Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls #1)(9)
He drove down the main street and headed toward Lee’s house. His hometown of Scarlet Falls was a small suburban community in upstate New York, about an hour north of the state capitol in Albany. With the Appalachian Mountains to the west and Hudson Valley to the east, the town was picturesque, but the economy had been limping along since Grant was a kid. The region wasn’t thriving but it wasn’t going bankrupt either.
It was, in a word: average.
But in this ordinary slice of American suburbia, Lee and Kate had been brutally murdered. Had it been robbery? Or something even more sinister?
Ten minutes outside of town, Grant entered Lee’s neighborhood. For the most part, the residences were large, old homes on oversize lots. No cookie-cutter tract house for Lee. No, a year and a half before, he’d sold the small starter home and moved up to a more prestigious address. Lee must have been doing well at the firm. He’d leased a BMW at about the same time.
Grant turned onto the right street. In the sparse light of the occasional streetlamp, the neighborhood looked barren. When he’d been here last May, the valley had been gleaming green. Shrubs had been trimmed and fronted with flowers. Kids rode bikes and played hockey in the street. Moms pushed strollers to the playground on the corner. Now, warming temps had muddied the landscape, thawing in the daytime and refreezing at night. Moonlight gleamed on the layer of frozen muck. Grant hadn’t spent much time here since high school. The dreary vista was more depressing than the images in his memory. As a teen, he couldn’t wait to get out of town, as if staying here would make him stagnate.
Lee and Kate’s old Victorian sat behind a long, narrow front lawn. The Cape Cod–style house on the right was dark, but lights still burned in the two-story Colonial on the left. Streetlights were few and far between out here. Grant turned at the mailbox and parked at the head of the driveway. The big house was dark, almost forbidding. Trees loomed over the roof and cut off any light from the moon. Grant’s headlights cut a swath of clarity through the gloom and illuminated the front porch.
He got out of the car and stared up at the house, suddenly realizing he didn’t have a key. How was he going to get in? With a sigh, Grant trudged around the property, checking first-floor doors and windows in case one was left unlocked. No luck. He might need to go to a hotel after all, which meant a drive back out to the interstate, but at this point, sleeping in the car was looking good, despite the damp cold. The front seat of a sedan certainly wouldn’t be the worst place he’d spent the night. At least Scarlet Falls didn’t have enemy forces trying to kill him. He went back to the rental car. His truck, parked in a base storage facility in Texas, had a toolbox and flashlight in the back. Not this vehicle.
He opened the trunk and pulled the tire iron from the spare tire well. He could break a window, but then he’d have to fix the window. Probably not his best option. His gaze strayed to the house next door, and he remembered Lee’s pretty brunette neighbor. They’d met a couple of times during his last visit. Even after ten months overseas, a man didn’t forget a woman like Ellie Ross.
“Can I help you?”
Reaching for his sidearm, Grant whirled at the feminine voice. His hand hit empty jacket.
A small, older woman stood in the driveway. Darkness obscured her features, but he had no trouble seeing the shotgun in her arms. He froze, the sight of the gun sending his adrenals back into overdrive. He flashed back to the ambush and a figure in digital desert camo pointing a weapon in his direction.
How did she sneak up behind him? Was he that distracted?
“Drop the tire iron,” she said. “And don’t move.”
“Don’t worry.” He let the tool fall into the trunk and raised his hands as she pointed the twelve-gauge at the dead center of his chest.
Chapter Four
“Nan!” Ellie squinted into the darkness. Beyond her shotgun-wielding grandmother, the man standing in her neighbor’s driveway looked familiar. But her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the lack of light, and he was standing in the shadow of his open trunk. “You cannot point a gun at someone.”
“Well, he was skulking around the house in the dark. He looked like he was going to break in.” Nan tapped a white athletic shoe on the pavement. Frenzied barking emanated from their house. “A girl can’t be too careful. Lots of crime around here lately.”
“He parked in the driveway, Nan. That’s hardly criminal behavior.” Ellie gently liberated the gun from her grandmother and let the muzzle tip toward the ground. “That barking is going to wake Julia. Would you please go inside and make the dog stop?” Then Ellie would try to convince the man not to call the police—or a psychiatric ward—on her grandmother.
Nan gave her a pointed look, but she complied, walking toward their house.
The stranger closed the trunk and faced her, and she recognized Lee’s brother. “Grant?”
At six foot four, his broad shoulders and wide chest filled out his brown leather jacket.
“Hello, Ellie.”
Sadness crept up the back of her throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat.
“I apologize for my grandmother,” she said. “She’s tired of reporters and photographers. Plus, there have been other people who actually were skulking around the place in the dark looking for a way to break in. We called the police a few times. They said once the media releases the victims’ names, it isn’t uncommon for criminals to target the house. Is there anything I can do for you?”