She Can Hide (She Can #4)(61)

“Here, boy,” Abby called.

Zeus dodged his mistress like a cutting horse. He stopped on the lawn. Nose scenting the air, he swiveled his head left and stared down the narrow strip of yard that separated Abby’s house from the hovel next door. The dog’s feet dug into the snow as he sprinted in the new direction. Snow flew from under his paws.

Ethan and Abby jogged after him.

They turned the corner. The dog was sniffing the ground. He stood up on his hind legs and pawed at the small garage window.

Abby grabbed for the dog’s collar and tugged him away from the house. Zeus obeyed, but he stood at Abby’s side on full alert, legs stiff, huge muscles tensed, hackles lifted.

Ethan swept the beam of his flashlight on the window.

“What do you see?” Abby asked.

“Scratches on the sill. Not sure if they’re from the dog’s claws or something else.” He turned back toward her. “I’ll need a ladder to get a better look.”

But the dog’s reaction was pretty clear. Someone had tried to break into Abby’s house.

Ethan glanced around the neighborhood. Shadows gathered beneath trees, shrubs, and sheds. He’d already checked the house for intruders. “Let’s get back inside.”

The dog sniffed. His head and tail were on alert. Tension radiated from his body.

“Let’s walk through the house so you can see if anything is missing or disturbed.”

“OK.” Abby nodded.

But Zeus ripped the leash from her hands and bolted for the back of the house. Abby and Ethan ran after him. The dog scrambled across the kitchen floor and hurled his front paws at the door that led into the garage.

Ethan grabbed the dog’s leash and hauled him back to Abby’s side. “Stay here,” he said to both of them.

He went through the door and swept his beam across the concrete floor again. He didn’t think it was possible that he’d missed a person in the garage, but he didn’t like the dog’s reaction one bit.

Skirting the recycling waste, his gaze went to the window to his left, the one that Zeus had zeroed in on outside. Even from ten feet away, he could see marks on the sill. He glanced down to maneuver through the littered floor and froze. The bottles at his feet contained a small amount of pale green liquid. The plastic was swollen and misshapen, not from being physically crushed, but from interior pressure.

Oh shit.





CHAPTER TWENTY

Abby stood in the middle of the kitchen as Ethan disappeared into the garage. Zeus whined but didn’t strain against the leash. Fear bubbled into her throat. Moonlight filtered through the blinds and slanted across the table. The exterior of her laptop gleamed dull silver. She wanted to sit down and turn on the computer, but she couldn’t move. Fear paralyzed every muscle in her body.

She strained her eyes to see into the shadows. Outside the front window, a branch rubbed against the glass. There was no other noise. The house was silent. No hum of the refrigerator. No rattle of the heater. Silence rubbed her nerves like a rasp, and the darkness pressed in on her.

Just like the last time she’d been trapped in the dark.

Zeus leaned on her leg and whined again, no doubt picking up on her distress. This was stupid. If there was anyone in the house, Zeus would know about it. As sweet as his disposition was, his breeding could not be denied. His ancestors had been guard dogs for thousands of years. No one was getting in on his watch.

There was no reason for her current panic. But if there were scratches on her window, then maybe someone did try to get inside yesterday. Whoever might have been in her house was long gone. The dog was settling, and Ethan had already done the under-the-beds-and-in-the-closets check.

The dog bumped her hip with his nose. Abby couldn’t even move to stroke his head. Her brain circuits were as dead as the electrical lines running through her house.

Despair swelled. It wasn’t fair. As hard as she’d tried to put the past behind her, it continued to give chase, snapping at her heels like the hounds of her own private hell.

The lights turned on, flooding the room with brightness. Next to the laptop, her printer beeped. The light on the cordless phone charger blinked. From the kitchen, she heard the hum of the refrigerator shifting into operation. Beyond, the heater clanked and groaned.

As the house came to life, relief flooded Abby. She grabbed her overnight bag and ran upstairs, flicking lights on all the way to her bedroom. She opened the bag, tossed her dirty clothes in the hamper, and grabbed clean clothes for another couple of days. In the closet, she accessed her safe and removed her mother’s Glock. She’d been lucky she’d been able to reach Ethan’s gun when the detective’s murderer had confronted them. They both could have been killed. The memory sent fear sliding through her belly.

She tucked the handgun into the side pocket of the suitcase. On second thought, she also grabbed the cash and untraceable cell, stuffed both in her suitcase, and zipped it closed.

“Abby, we have to get out of here,” Ethan yelled from downstairs.

She pulled her bag from the bed and carried it down the steps. Ethan grabbed it from her hand and pulled her toward the front door. The grim set of his mouth warned her that the news wasn’t good.

“What is it?” She snagged her purse from the desk.

“Just come.” He bent down and picked up Zeus’s dragging leash from the floor. “Please. I’ll explain once we’re outside.”