Page 60 of Deep Waters
“You do?” I must not have hidden my disbelief.
She sniffed. “I’m old, not dead.” She hopped into the cab of her truck. A few seconds later, she was a dust cloud going down the road.
“Huh.” For a moment, I felt bad about cramping her style. Still feeling off-balance, I wandered into the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make burgers. My hands moved on autopilot—lighting the grill and chopping the onion, lettuce, and tomato. It didn’t even occur to me that I was alone. Unprotected.
Until it was too late.
I stood at the grill, eyes watering from the smoke. Maybe the burgers would be more well done than medium, but the kids wouldn’t complain. The damn things had shrunk too. I should have stuck with hot dogs. Lost in my own thoughts, it took me a moment to register the footsteps behind me.
“Don’t turn around.”
The gruff order had the opposite effect. I spun. The bulky man in the mask was dressed in a long-sleeved tee and pants. Too much for a sunny summer day. But perfect for concealing his identity. Still… his voice was familiar.
An eerie calm took over. SAR training didn’t cover direct confrontation, but it had prepared me for high-pressure situations. To calmly assess and look for escape routes. To keep my breathing under control, even as my pulse sky-rocketed.
“Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the man bit out, eyes shifting from me to the house. “I want the safe.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Liar.”
It was worth a shot. I held up my hands. “I don’t have it on me,” I modified. The way his eyes flickered, constantly shifting, made me think he was nervous. Or high.
“We’re going to go inside, and you’re going to give it to me. No funny business.”
“Or what?” I asked, not sure where my bravado came from. While he wasn’t holding a weapon, it didn’t mean he didn’t have one. His bulk alone made him a threat. The more he spoke, the more I picked up on his small tells. The anxious way he clenched and released his fist. The gentle lilt in his voice. Brandon Chen. He had to know I’d recognize him, making this confrontation incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Possibly both.
“Lady, I just want what’s mine. Some bad people will be after me if I don’t take care of business.”
“What’s in the safe?”
“That’s my business. Now where is it?”
I gestured toward the house. “Inside.”
“After you.”
The mocking edge in his voice grated. I didn’t like him at my back. But I doubted I could beat him inside and lock the doors before he grabbed me. If he were desperate enough, it wouldn’t matter if he had a weapon or not. He had more than fifty pounds on me. It’d be enough. Yoga and hiking were great exercise but lousy defense. I couldn’t exactly downward dog him into submission.
Leading him inside would give me options. Knives in the kitchen. The poker by the fireplace. All I had to do was get close enough to reach one.
I moved woodenly toward the back door, assessing and discarding potential weapons as I envisioned the house ahead. Funny thing about houses with kids—they were light on weaponry. But if I could get him to the garage… I diverted, leading the way to the workshop side door.
“Hey. Inside.”
I lifted a shoulder, pretending a cool I didn’t feel. “If you want to see the kids’ inventory of stuffed animals and board games, be my guest.” I cast a sideways glance at Brandon. Now that I’d recognized him, the black mask did little to conceal his identity. “I think you tried searching there already, am I right?”
“Where. Is. It.” He bit out the words, menace in every syllable.
I quaked inside, my earlier bravado turning to fear. Lying to him was a dangerous game, one I wasn’t sure I had the skill to play. The weight of his gaze pressed down on me, searching. Peeling back layers I wasn’t ready to expose. One wrong word, one flicker of hesitation, and he’d know.
“We discovered a safe in the garage and left it there. It was too big to move.” I was lying through my teeth, but Brandon didn’t know me well enough to spot my tells. When he followed me toward the garage, it confirmed my suspicion that he’d never seen the safe. So what did he think was in it?
“You say bad people want what’s in the safe. Does that mean the same bad people murdered Jordan?”
Brandon grunted, neither confirmation nor a denial.
