Page 30 of Beckett
“Shit. Forgot. You probably wanted an early night.”
“And miss beating the hell out of you? Not a chance.” He grinned as he grabbed his bag. “But yeah, cold front’s rolling in. Radio says snow soon. Might stay out there a while.”
“Thanks, Coop. For the sparring. And for not being a complete asshole.”
He just gave me a chin lift on his way out.
After he left, I went back to the bag, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. Coop’s words kept cycling through my mind. Time. Space. Safety without strings.
I threw one last halfhearted combination at the bag before calling it quits. The ten-minute drive back to Pawsitive Connections looked different at night. Nothing but darknesssurrounded by the overpowering shadows of the trees. The temperature had definitely dropped—my breath fogged in the air as I walked from my truck to the guest house.
The main property sat quiet, the kennels dark except for the security lights. I’d done a final check on the animals before heading to Warrior Security, and Audra’s car had already been gone. Not unusual—she often left right at five, probably heading to whatever cheap motel she was staying at.
The house welcomed me with its familiar simplicity. I should have been tired after the workout with Coop, should have been ready to crash. Instead, restlessness crawled under my skin like ants.
I tried reading, but the words blurred together. Tried watching TV, but nothing held my attention. Finally, I gave up and pulled on my jacket. Sometimes walking was the only thing that helped clear my head. The cold air might shock some sense into me.
The moon hung low and bright, casting silver light across the grounds. I started toward the far pasture, needing the space, the silence. My boots crunched on frost-brittle grass—Coop was right about that cold front.
I’d made it halfway across the property and was about to head back to the house when I saw it. A faint glow coming from the equipment shed on the opposite side of the land for just a second. My body went rigid, training kicking in instantly.
We’d had break-ins before in Garnet Bend. Kids looking for tools to pawn, mostly. As far as I knew, Lark hadn’t had any problem with theft here, but I wasn’t going to let it happen on my watch.
I jogged back to my truck, cranking the engine and heading across the property. Gravel spat under my tires as I accelerated. If someone was stealing from Lark while she was gone?—
A sound cut through the night as I killed the engine twenty yards from the shed. Not the clatter of tools or the scrape of metal.
Something else. A thud. Like something hitting wood.
I was out of the truck and moving before my brain fully processed what I’d heard. The shed door was closed but not locked—the padlock hung open on the latch. As I approached, more sounds came from inside. Thrashing. A choked sob that made my blood run cold.
“Hello?” I tried the handle. The door moved an inch before catching on something, stopping all progress. “Anyone in there?”
The sounds intensified. Someone fighting. Someone trapped.
I put my shoulder into it, but whatever blocked the door held firm. The sounds inside were getting worse—gasping now, panicked.
“Stand back!” I yelled, though I wasn’t sure whoever was inside could hear me over their own distress.
I took three steps back, a deep breath, and then I drove forward, foot connecting with the door just beside the handle. Wood splintered. The door burst inward, whatever had been blocking it clattering aside.
A lantern that looked like it was from the 1970s illuminated the cramped interior. And there, tangled in a sleeping bag on a makeshift bed of moving blankets, was Audra.
Her eyes were closed, face contorted in terror. She thrashed against invisible restraints, fingernails catching on the sleeping bag’s fabric. A keening sound escaped her throat—pure fear given voice.
A nightmare. I knew the signs intimately.
“Audra.” I kept my voice calm, steady, though my heart hammered against my ribs. “Audra, you’re safe. It’s just a dream.”
She didn’t respond, lost too deep in whatever horror held her. I’d been there. Trapped in memories that felt more real than reality. You couldn’t just shake someone out of that.
I knelt beside her, careful not to touch. Touch could make it worse, could fold into the nightmare and become part of the threat.
“Audra, listen to my voice. It’s Beckett. You’re at Pawsitive Connections in Garnet Bend. You’re in the equipment shed. You’re safe.”
Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps. Hyperventilating. If she kept that up, she’d pass out.
“Breathe with me,” I said, making my own breathing audible. “Let’s just count. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.”
