Читать книгу Field of Danger - Ramona Richards - Страница 12

“I want him to come. Please.” April hated the pleading sound in her voice, but she had to make the sheriff understand.

They stood in Aunt Suke’s driveway, Ray Taylor’s hand still on the top of his cruiser’s door, which he had opened for April. He had just ordered Daniel to go home. Again.

Ray growled under his breath. “Ms. Presley—” He stopped and took a deep breath as if to calm himself. “April. Listen, it’s bad policy to have family involved in these things, even if he’s a trained officer of the law. Bad for the case and good for any defense attorney.”

April glanced quickly at Daniel, who waited silently, his body tense but still, his ebony eyes focused on her. April knew he had to be a little wary of what she would say. Which was understandable, since she’d held him at bay since her arrival in Caralinda. But he’d asked her out so soon after her divorce that she’d had no choice but to turn him down. At that point she would have been skittish around almost any man.

They had not been around each other much since, even though Levon had clearly been on a campaign to get them together. He’d frequently given her updates about events in Daniel’s life, and suggested that Daniel would make an excellent husband. At first Levon’s matchmaking had been awkward, but after a bit, April had found it almost charming that he cared so deeply for his only son.

Daniel was a good man, and it had felt beautifully natural to lean on him, to cry on his shoulders. But she didn’t want to appear false or cloying at a time like this. April took a deep breath, searching for the words that would tell Ray how much she needed Daniel to be involved without sounding disingenuous. After all, Daniel wasn’t just a deputy sheriff in those moments; he also was a man devastated by his father’s murder, the son of the only real friend she’d made in Caralinda over the past year. And right now they both needed a friend.

“I understand that, Sheriff, but your deputy is also my friend. And right now I could use one with me.”

Daniel’s left eyebrow twitched, but he otherwise showed no reaction.

Ray Taylor snarled and turned his back as he returned to the driver’s side of the cruiser. “All right, get in, the both of you. You in front, April.”

Daniel held the door for her, then shut it as she buckled the seat belt. He got in behind her, and Ray turned the car out of Aunt Suke’s driveway and headed toward April’s house.

“What did Gage find?” Daniel asked.

Ray glanced in the rearview mirror. “When he found the front door open, he called for backup, and I sent two more officers over. The suspect has apparently been in the house, but it’s clear now.”

April clutched her hands together in her lap, suddenly aware of how cold they were. “Did he say how bad it was?”

Ray hesitated, then shook his head once.

He knows. It must be awful. April straightened in the seat, trying to steel herself to see what had happened to her beloved cottage. They drove the rest of the short distance in silence, and as the cruiser bumped and rolled slowly up April’s rough gravel driveway, she tried not to hyperventilate. She focused on Jeff Gage, noticing that he seemed anxious. She exhaled slowly, making herself sit still a moment. This, after all, was not her first break-in. Her parents’ house had been burglarized when she was a teenager, and her first home had been broken into not long after her wedding. In both cases, the thefts had been quick and dirty, removing electronics, guns and, in the second robbery, all her wedding gifts. You’ve been through this before. You know what it’s like. You’ll get through it again. Stay calm.

Ray parked the car, and they got out, walking slowly toward the steps leading up to the porch. April stood at the foot of them, staring at the open door of her home, an odd hollow feeling growing in her chest. Her breaths came faster, and a slight dizziness settled over her.

Daniel stepped closer to her back, his warm presence reassuring her, as if she could lean back against him and never fall. “Are you okay?”

“Not yet,” she whispered, and she knew they all watched her, waiting for her to react to the violation of her home.

Levon Rivers had built the small Cape Cod-style cottage for his mother’s sister, carving the plot from one corner of his expansive fields. When his aunt died, he’d rented it to a niece, who eventually decided to return to college. At that point, Levon had put the charming cottage on the market.

April, desperate to get out of Nashville and away from her hostile in-laws and bitter ex-husband, fell in love with it instantly and made an offer the first time she saw it. In the year since then, she’d polished the hardwood floors and painted everything in her beloved earth tones. She’d even picked out a new door made from heavy oak and featuring three long panes of beveled glass. All of her work had made it truly hers, secluded and cozy and loved.

Now someone had smashed open the door, shattering the glass and splintering the door frame.

Ray Taylor touched her arm. “I just want you to look around inside the door. Gage has already been in, so he’s the only one I want moving around in the house. We will dust for prints later, so try not to touch anything. We need to know if you can tell if anything is missing.”

April nodded, took a deep breath and climbed the steps. Stepping over the threshold, she braced herself for what she would see.

As she moved past the splintered front door, however, April saw that this was not just a burglary—this was a personal, vicious attack. As she scanned the room, her knees weakened, and she swayed, suddenly grateful for the firm strength of Daniel, who still stood close behind her.

His hand closed on her arm, steadying her. “You okay?” he asked again.

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“You don’t have to do this now.”

She wrapped her fingers around his hand. “Yes, I do.” The house held an echoing stillness that made her own home feel unfamiliar, as if she’d walked into the abode of a stranger. Forgetting Ray’s instructions, she moved forward, her toes crunching down on a shattered cup.

She stopped, looking down. It wasn’t the only dish on the floor. Her kitchen cabinet doors splayed wide, their shelves cleared of all contents. Broken china littered every open space on the floor. Cans of vegetables and soup rolled free, and flour, cereal and sugar dusted all surfaces while a faint scent of cornmeal and yeast hung in the air. Biting her lower lip, she scanned the room.

Destruction…yet nothing seemed to be missing. The television still stood in place, although its smashed screen looked like a dark star in a black hole. Not even everything had suffered. The CD player on one end table remained untouched, as did her collection of books and some of the CDs stacked neatly on one shelf of a bookcase. Other CDs were tossed about the room like confetti, their cases splintered. The randomness was nearly as disturbing as the violence. Her attacker had stood in her home and deliberately chosen which parts of her life to wreck, and which to keep intact.

“He didn’t steal anything.” April’s voice sounded flat and hollow, even to her.

“Are you sure?” Ray asked behind them.

Before she could answer, Daniel whispered in her ear. “Is there anything really odd? Not the trashing. Something odd in the middle of it.”

April felt a laugh borne of hysteria bubbling in the back of her throat, and she almost choked. Anything odd? Had he lost his mind? Her house had been destroyed! Her food, her fine china! Her life! Her gaze darted about the room as her mind clicked through what would have to be replaced. The television, the carpet, the curtains that hung half off their rods…

The curtains.

She froze, her eyes narrowing. The curtains on the back window were closed.

April blinked, her anxiety calming as she stared at the bright yellow and green fabric that added light and color to her open living room. Every morning, she opened both sets, on the front and back windows, to allow in as much light as possible. Now the ones on the rear window were closed.

April turned slightly toward the front window. Those curtains were still open.

She looked at Officer Gage. “Did you close the drapes?” She pointed at the torn fabric.

Confused, the young man looked from her to Ray.

The sheriff nodded. “Did you?”

Gage shook his head, and Ray gestured toward the window. “Open them.”

Picking his way through the shards of April’s life, Gage fumbled through the ripped cloth for the cord, then slowly drew back the drapes.

At the sight of the windows, Daniel gasped out a low, choked prayer. “Dear God, save us.”

April’s eyes widened as her breath left her. She stumbled back against Daniel, who braced her, his hands closing on her shoulders.

The block letters trailed across the glass in smeared reddish-bronze lipstick, and the splintered tubes clustered beneath the window, crushed into the carpet.

The message was simple.

YOU TALK

YOU DIE