Читать книгу Suspicion Of Guilt - Tracey V. Bateman - Страница 11

The night swirled around her. Black, stabbing darkness conjured terrible shadows from childhood nightmares. Leaves hovered like a vampire’s cape, suffocating. Fear gripped her. Branches tossed in the breeze—razor-sharp fingers ready to slice her to shreds.

Hurry, hurry, hurry.

A low half growl, half whine came from the Doberman behind the fence next door. She jerked her head at the sound, heart pounding in her ears like the thrum of a thousand drums.

Shh. “It’s okay,” she whispered. Don’t give me away. I’m so close to accomplishing my goal. The dog obeyed and sat—watching but silent.

Relief flooded her as she turned back to her task. Denni Mahoney, with all of her sweetness and light…

Shards of rage pierced her heart at the thought of Denni getting what she wanted. She didn’t deserve it. A mastermind of deception. Denni had fooled them all.

Everyone but me. The thought made her smile with grim determination.

With a shaky hand, she reached for the outside faucet. Hesitated. One twist and the broken pipe would send water rushing inside the house instead of flowing to the ground. The basement would flood.

She grasped the faucet tightly and gave it a quick turn.

Water spewed.

The Doberman barked.

Her heart rate escalated. She pushed to her feet, gulping down the fear and crept across the yard. Exultation shoved away the terror of night as she found safety.