Page 1 of Flynn

ChapterOne

Taylor Templeton frowned at the sound of breaking glass. It was three in the morning and she was giving three month old Max his bottle. She rose, cradling the baby close and moved toward the nursery door. A wave of apprehension made her turn and douse the small lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.

The Millers were asleep, or so she assumed. Robin and Steve Miller were distant cousins on her mom’s side of the family. When they’d learned she had experience as a live-in nanny, they’d hired her to help with Max now that Robin Miller had returned to work. The large two-story house in Brookland, Wisconsin, was very nice, and the Millers were decent people.

She hovered in the open doorway, listening intently. Had she imagined the sound? Maybe Robin or Steve had woken up in the middle of the night and had dropped a glass of water. She could be battling fear for no reason at all.

Then a creaking sound reached her ears.

Someone was coming up the stairs!

Without giving herself time to think, she darted across the hall from the nursery to her bedroom. She left both doors open, fearing that closing them would catch the attention of whoever was coming up the stairs. Then she grabbed her phone from the nightstand where she’d had it charging.

The thud of a footstep on the landing made her shrink away from the bed. Spotting the walk-in closet, she quietly opened the door and stepped inside. She didn’t close the door because it sometimes squeaked. Besides, she had to assume the intruder was looking for money, and if so, he would have no reason to come inside her room.

Or so she hoped.

Pressing herself in the corner of the closet against her clothes, she fought to breathe normally, despite the frantic beat of her heart. Her last live-in nanny assignment had brought a level of danger, so it was possible she was overreacting.

Steve could have dropped the glass, then cleaned it up, and was returning to the master suite. Yes, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she was being ridiculous. There was no reason to be afraid.

She stepped toward the partially open closet door.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

The four shots were somewhat muffled but loud enough to reach her. Every muscle in her body froze at the implication.

Gunfire? Had the intruder shot and killed the Millers?

Taylor opened her mouth to scream but managed to swallow the sound without uttering a word. She needed to call 911, but her fingers didn’t want to cooperate. Max continued to suckle his bottle, thankfully oblivious to the danger.

Then she saw a man dressed in black moving past the open doorway of her room. She caught a brief glimpse of his face, especially his prominent nose and bearded face. Her heart nearly burst out of her chest as she recoiled back from the closet door. She lowered herself to the floor, scooting into the corner and bending over to make herself as small as possible.

She didn’t dare call 911, fearing the sound of her voice would lead the gunman to her hiding spot. Instead, she opened her text message app and scrolled through to the last message she had exchanged with Flynn Ryerson, a Milwaukee cop she’d met on her last assignment. She always kept her phone on silent, so she didn’t hesitate to send a text, despite knowing he wouldn’t likely see it at this hour of the morning.

A gunman is in the house!

She held the phone screen against Max’s blanket to minimize the glow of light. The seconds ticked by with excruciating slowness. Then she saw the flash as Flynn responded.

Get out!

I can’t. He’s in the hallway. I’m hiding in the closet with the baby.

Where?

Taylor texted him the address. The minute she hit send, a muffled thud sent her pulse skyrocketing. Was the intruder looking for the baby?

For her?

Lord Jesus, keep us safe in Your care!

Knowing Flynn was on the way, Taylor tried to remain calm. Maybe the gunman wouldn’t stick around. She belatedly realized Max had stopped taking the bottle. She needed to burp him but was afraid to move. He squirmed in her arms as if he were uncomfortable. What if he started to cry?

Bitter fear coated her tongue. With exaggerated slowness, she placed her phone screen down on the floor beside her to free up her hands. Gently shifting the baby in her arms, she settled him upright against her shoulder. She prayed he wouldn’t start crying or make any other sound that would give them away.

He didn’t.

Rubbing circles over Max’s back, she strained to listen. The silence was not reassuring. She half expected the closet door to swing open revealing the gunman.

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