Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Aspen, listen to me.”
“Give me my phone.”
“Listen to me, baby.”
“No. Give me my phone, Buck. You can’t treat me like this. I’m not a fucking child. Now give me my damned phone!”
I shove the phone in my back pocket. Then I grab both her arms. “Listen to me. We broke in. If you call the police from your phone, they will trace your phone. They will have your number, and they will know we were here. They will know we broke in. That’s a crime, baby. You know this. You know I’m right.”
She leans into me then. “But the dog…”
I kiss the top of her head. “I wish we could take him. I do. I don’t want to leave him. But we have to get out of here. And we have to get out of here now.”
“So you’ll dial 911 from the landline?”
“I will. But then we leave quickly. We have to make sure no one sees us.”
“All right. I just have to know that Edgar’s going to be all right.”
“Edgar will be fine.” I kiss her hair again and then I hand her the key fob. “Go out to the car. Get in and wait for me. If I don’t come out within five minutes—and I’m serious—get the hell out of here.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
I kiss her then. Hard. With a whole lot of tongue and whole lot of passion.
With a whole lot of love. Her safety is all that matters.
I don’t want to stop the kiss, but I force myself. I gaze at her—at her beautiful, terror-stricken eyes.
“Go. Please. Give me five minutes.”
Her lips tremble as she takes the key fob. “All right.”
I nod and give her a little shove. She heads down the short hallway through the living area and out the door.
Once she’s gone, I steel myself.
For the last few minutes, I’ve known.
We are not alone in this house.
“All right.” I pull my Glock out of the holster. “Show yourself, you fucking coward.”
It’s a feeling. Instinct. I heard a few creaks, but this is an older home, and older homes creak.
Still, I know.
“Get the fuck out here,” I say again, this time through gritted teeth. “Show yourself, you fucking psychopath.”
Again, no response. I look down at Edgar who has stopped barking for a moment.
“You have to lead me to them, pup.”
But Edgar only runs back into the bedroom, jumps on the bed, and tries to rouse his owners.
I follow him to the bedroom, check the closet and the adjoining bath.
Nothing.
Maybe my instinct is off. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve trusted my instinct and nothing panned out.
I only gave Aspen five minutes, and that’s fine. Even if I’m still looking around in here, she’ll leave and be safe. I hated lying to her—telling her I’d call 911 when I had no intention of doing so.
The bedroom seems to be clear, so I slink into the second bedroom. Edgar doesn’t follow me. He stays with his owners’ bodies.
The second bedroom closet is clear. There is no third bedroom. I check every other crevice I can find. The coat closet in the living room, the pantry in the kitchen.
There’s no second floor, and there’s no basement.
Damn it. The house appears to be clean.
I still have about thirty seconds to get to Aspen in the car. Then I look at Edgar, who has left the bedroom and is scurrying at my feet, barking.
“I don’t know, boy. I think you and I might be hearing things.”
I’m ready to leave, to join Aspen in the car and get out of here, when her voice echoes in my head.
We can’t leave him here. He’ll starve.
“Damn it, you dumb dog.” I lean down and pet his soft head.
I’ll find the landline phone. I’ll dial 911. That way someone will come, and the dog will not starve. God, I hope he doesn’t end up in a shelter.
“Fuck it all.” I scoop him into my arms and head toward the front door.
48
ASPEN
Five minutes pass.
Then ten.
Buck, please, I beg him in my mind. Please come out here. Please come back to me.
I’m already five minutes past his limit.
Five minutes more. I’ll give him five minutes more.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The invisible clock ticks inside my mind.
When my five minutes are up—making fifteen minutes total—I press the start button on the car.
Where do I go? Back to the hotel?
No. I go to the only place I know where I can find help.
I plug Katelyn’s address into the GPS, and I’m off.
LA traffic is the worst, especially heading toward the beach on a beautiful morning. It takes over an hour to make it to Katelyn’s house. I screech to a halt and run to the door.
I bang on it. I bang on it relentlessly. Jed barks behind the door.
Until finally—
The door opens, and Luke stands there, stroking Jed’s head.