Page 38 of Justice Denied

The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

Seth shrugged but didn’t reply. The distant sound of sirens drew his attention—and the intruder’s.

“But since it appears I’m out of time, I’ll spell it out in words even someone with your brawn but not brains can understand. Lay off your harassment of Topher Robotics.”

“Or what?” Seth cocked his head, his calm demeanor a front as he digested the man’s words.

Without answering, the man moved toward the door, the knife still visible in his hand. Seth mirrored his steps, arriving at the door at the same time. He stared into the intruder’s hard eyes.

Bingley barked, the sound coming from downstairs. The man took advantage of Seth’s momentary distraction to slip through the door. Seth flew after him, pounding down the stairs. He caught the man’s arm on the threshold of the open front door, but he whipped around, knife gleaming, and sliced Seth’s bicep.

Pain exploded and Seth reflexively let go as blood spurted from the vertical gash across his upper arm. He gritted his teeth, his right hand covering the wound on his left arm. The man disappeared from view a few minutes before a police vehicle roared to a stop.

Bingley nudged his leg as he stood dripping blood in the entryway. Jetta! He stumbled as a feeling of lightheadedness washed over him. He wouldn’t pass out, not from a little blood loss. He had to stay strong and find Jetta.

“Halt! Police! Show me your hands.”

Seth stopped a few feet from the front door. “I’m injured in my left arm, but I don’t have any weapons.” Blood continued to drip onto the hardwood floor, giving his statement credence.

“Turn around slowly,” the male officer commanded.

Seth did. When he came face to face with the officer, he squinted, blinking sweat from his eyes. “Trevor?”

The officer frowned. “Seth? What are you doing here?”

Seth nodded toward the gun his Bible study mate still pointed at him. “Mind lowering your weapon?”

Another officer approached the house as sirens indicated more help had arrived. “Hawks, what you got?”

Falls Church Police Officer Trevor Hawks holstered his gun. “Not sure, but this man needs medical attention. He’s Seth Whitman, a photojournalist withTheHerald.”

Seth breathed a prayer of thanks that the responding officer was a friend. “I’m fine, but Jetta Ainsley, the daughter of the home’s owner, is somewhere downstairs, and she might be hurt.”

Trevor stepped into the house. “You wait here and tell Fleetwood what happened.” He moved around Seth as the other officer came up to Seth.

Officer Fleetwood said, “The ambulance is here, so let’s get that arm looked at while you tell me what occurred here.”

Seth didn’t want to leave the house, not before finding out where Jetta was, but as another police vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb, he allowed himself to be guided to the ambulance. As an EMT cleaned his wound, Seth relayed what had happened, along with a description of the intruder and which direction he had gone after leaving the house.

By the time the EMT had bandaged the cut and directed him to see a doctor as he was certain it would need stitches, Seth could hardly stay still, the need to see Jetta racing through his veins. “Thanks.”

He bounded out of the back of the ambulance, swaying a bit as his feet hit the pavement, then he ran toward the house, shouldering his way past the officer at the door. “Jetta!”

Bingley woofed, directing him into the living room. Seth screeched to a halt in the doorway as another EMT crouched by Jetta’s side as she sat on the couch.

“Jetta.” He breathed out her name at seeing her. They hadn’t rushed her to the hospital, so perhaps that meant she and the baby were okay.

Jetta raised her head and met his gaze. The smudges under her eyes appeared more pronounced than they’d been less than an hour earlier. Bits of something black bracketed her mouth. “Seth.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as if seeing him released a dam inside her. Her eyes widened. “You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing.” He weaved his way around Trevor talking to another cop to reach her, dropping onto the cushion at her side.

The EMT packed her bag. “Check in with your OB-GYN if you feel anything unusual with the baby.”

“Will do, thank you.” Jetta swiped tears from her cheeks with her fingers.

Seth handed her a tissue from a box decorated with fall leaves and pumpkins. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She used the tissue on her face. “It’s not. You could have been killed.”

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