Page 160 of Secrets Along the Shore
I turn the Jeep off and step out, unholstering my Sig Sauer 9mm and sweeping my gaze around the yard. “Bilbo? You good?” I keep my voice calm and approach with careful steps. The dog doesn’t move an inch. I give the appropriate signal and he sprints toward me, coming to a stop at my feet, still eyeing the end of the drive.
“You hear something, boy?” I say, rubbing his head and muzzle. When I draw my hand back, a bright red streak paints my thumb and forefinger. Terror ripping through me, I drop to my knees and take his head in my hands, examining him thoroughly. It’s not his blood.
It’s something—orsomeone—else’s.
Bilbo isn’t a hunter, and he’s trained not to seek out critters in the woods. The only way he would go after another creature—other than chasing birds during our walks, which I allow—is if it threatened me or invaded the area around the house. And while I suppose that could have happened, Bilbo’s focus on the driveway makes me think the reason for the bloodshed is an unwelcome human visitor who hightailed it in that direction.
The alarm is still on and the door locked, both good signs. I let myself in and walk room to room, checking inside every closet and under every bed. After conducting a full sweep of the house and finding no indication of an intruder, I venture outside again.
The night is quiet, just a gentle breeze and the occasional hooting of a barn owl somewhere in the nearby trees. Bilbo, who hasn’t left myside since I got home, is parked at my right foot. I squat down and scratch his head again. “What happened tonight, bud?”
Bilbo’s so interactive and human-like, I halfway expect him to tell me. But instead, he grunts, probably frustrated I don’t speak dog.
“I get it. I’m ready to be done with this day, too. Come on, I think we’re finished here.”
When I turn to go back in, he follows, but it’s not until I’m in the doorway, glancing down at Bilbo that I see it—a thin smear of blood low and along the edge of the door frame, not noticeable until you’re looking straight at it.
And that clinches it. What happened to Bilbo did not involve an animal, not unless it was trying to break into my house—and this isnotthe door with the doggie door. I scan the property again, the hairs on my arms rising as my nervous system, already shattered, takes another hit.
This is not safe. I’m alone here. Four women are dead. I do not want to be number five.
I take out my phone to call James. Then I remember.
An utter sense of aloneness I haven’t experienced in a long while grips me. I don’t know who to call anymore.
And then I do.
It’s midnight,and Cole Hollis leans back into my couch, shaking his head. He’s had me go through everything twice, to make sure he heard it correctly.
He did, and I assure him I realize it’s as crazy as it sounds. When he finally digests it all, he spends twenty minutes consoling me, insisting there must be another explanation for Edward’s phone call, other than my fiancé and future father-in-law conspiring to cover up a murder. Or, heaven forbid,twomurders, if Teresa Anders—the other woman wrapped in plastic, though likely killed after Kamden—somehow figures into this nightmare.
When I simply can’t talk about the situation anymore, we get backto the reason I called him out here—the attempted break-in, or possibly an attempt to lie in wait for me to come home.
I nod at the clear evidence bags containing swabs of the blood from both the house and Bilbo’s muzzle, as well as the fingerprints I collected with the evidence kit I keep on hand. “I need these typed and DNA-tested, but I can’t do it as part of the Kamden Avery investigation because someone’s watching it closely and leaking information. I don’t want anyone to know I’m doing this. I don’t want whoever this is”—I point to the materials—“to know I’m onto them. Ifyousubmit it instead of me, and file it as a generic, informational field report for the time being, no one will be the wiser.”
“Sure. And we can still file an official incident report if you decide to prosecute later.”
“I told you, I don’t plan on prosecuting this. There isn’t anything to prosecute anyway, except maybe trespassing. Bilbo thwarted whatever they had planned.” I look over at my warrior dog, sprawled upside down, asleep, with his head against Cole’s leg. “I just want to know who was here.”
Cole rubs Bilbo’s belly, and the dog yawns, unbothered by the night’s events. “I can’t believe you don’t have video cameras outside. You’ve got an alarm. Why not cameras? You’ll be safer. And you would’ve been able to see what happened—have something to prosecute.”
“Ugh.” My face sours. “I don’t want cameras. I’ve avoided them so far.”
“I don’t think you can avoid it any longer. And I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want them.”
“Anything can be hacked. And Goat tells me these systems are easy to break into. I don’t want someone knowing when I’m coming and going.”
“If they want to know that, all they have to do is watch your house. They don’t need to hack your video system. You’re being ridiculous.”
“That’s what Daniel used to say. He wanted one.”
“Well, he was right. Promise me you’ll call somebody later today and make arrangements, or I’m coming back out here to install a system myself, and I won’t tell you where the cameras are. No moredancing around, singing Whitney Houston, using your dish brush as a mic.”
I glare at him. “I don’t do that.”
“Uh, yeah you do. I’ve seen you. Your Cyndi Lauper’s better, though.”
I groan. “Fine, I’ll get cameras. But I don’t have to call anybody. I can use those self-install ones.”
