Page 33 of Absolution

Doubt.

What do I do?

The shuffling sound came again, louder this time, coming from the kitchen on the other side of the hall.

There was no time to think. He had to act.

Seizing the momentum, spiked by the fresh surge of adrenaline, he dashed quietly down the hall to his study. He opened the door silently and crept toward the safe. He flinched at the tiny noise each button made as he pressed them, glancing back over his shoulder in case his unknown foe was ready to strike.

Time stretched out around him as the safe door sprung open and he grappled around its confines, searching for the weapon he’d left there. His pounding pulse was making it difficult to think, but years of training had honed his ability to subdue panic and focus. As that thought settled in his mind, his fingers skimmed over the cold casing of the gun.

Gotcha.

Brushing his finger over the weapon, he ensured the safety was on before he turned and slunk back to the door. His gaze searched the darkness for any sign of danger, and finding nothing obvious, he edged along the hallway toward the kitchen, checking the bedroom door was still shut.

Ella’s safe.

The respite was brief, swallowed quickly by the nagging feeling that he should press on. He’d definitely heard someone in the kitchen, so he edged toward it. Waiting outside the door, he hesitated, considering his next move. The intruder could be armed. They could have any kind of weapon with them. He had to be bloody careful. Steeling himself, he pushed the door open, flicking off the safety and scanning the room with his gun pointed toward the dark, empty space.

The gloom presented no obvious signs of a threat, and the air was cool and quiet as he peered around, but thegalloping of his heart continued, apparently unconvinced by the ruse.

Feeling for the light switch, he commanded the room into sudden illumination, his heart skipping a beat at what he found.

No one.

He walked slowly to the end of the island, the only conceivable place an adult could hide, his brow creasing as he found no evidence of anyone.

There was no one.

No one hiding behind the island and no one hiding in the kitchen unless they’d been able to climb into one of his crockery cabinets. There was, though, a window open at the far end of the room.

I didn’t leave that open.

Tucker sprinted toward it unthinkingly, keeping his weapon fixed on the open pane as though he expected a person to come flying at him from the blackness outside. He rarely opened the windows this high in the building for safety reasons and had only allowed a limited number of them to be able to be opened because of the risk of people falling from them.

Clearly, whoever he’d heard had exited that way, and possibly entered the apartment through the window as well, although how they’d scaled the building and made it past his security team, Tucker wasn’t sure.

Reaching the open pane, his gaze fixed on the rope dangling outside. It descended south into the night until it was no longer visible.

“Rope?” His heart thundered at the absurdity.

Someone had used a rope to get in? As he pulled the pane closed and secured it, the notion seemed as crude and dangerous as it was unlikely. Even if they’d got past his security, how would they have gotten access? Each pane was secured from the inside, and he knew neither he nor Ella had left a window open.

“I need to call security.” His breaths were labored as he turned back to grab his phone from the bedroom, but as he scanned the room, his eyes landed on the elephant in the room—the sight that should have snatched his attention right from the get-go.

“The roses!” He jogged to the end of the island to get a better view of what remained of his gift to his little girl.

Someone had been there all right, and while they’d been shuffling around in his kitchen, they’d felt inclined to slice the heads off every one of the blooms he’d bought, save for one solitary rose.

“Oh God.”

There was something insidious about the deed. To break into his apartment in the dead of night had been bad enough, but to do this? What message was this supposed to send?

Swallowing his rising trepidation, he glanced down at the card he’d had sent with the flowers, his blood chilling atwhat he found. There, scrawled in red ink, were three words and an initial, written in all capital letters.

I’M BACK, BOWMAN. C.

Chapter Thirteen

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