Taken In Texas. Susan Sleeman

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СКАЧАТЬ else who would be on the property. No one but Eve and her nephew had a key to the house.

      A deputy made a routine morning check, but Mrs. Smalley didn’t answer the door. When they notified the nephew, he said she never went out at night and asked them to check back.

      So if he was right, and she was home, why were all the lights out?

      Kendall thought about her own grandmother in this situation. Her precious, sweet, dear grandmother. Maybe injured. Maybe inside, waiting for help. Or worse—maybe attacked by an intruder.

      A cold knot formed in Kendall’s stomach.

      “Relax,” she whispered to herself before she overreacted to the eerie night. “Her nephew was probably wrong, and she went somewhere with a friend. Or she’s already in bed.”

      Kendall’s pep talk did nothing to stem her anxiety. Six o’clock was way too early for bed, even for an older woman.

      Kendall slipped into her squad car and angled her computer to access the department’s record-management system. She plugged in the license plate number and waited. The screen filled with information, and Kendall quickly scanned the data.

      Just as she’d thought. The car belonged to Mrs. Smalley. She should be home, so there could be trouble inside. Kendall reached for her radio to communicate with dispatch.

      “221.” She gave her uniform number. “I need the information for the deputy dispatched this morning to the Smalley residence.”

      “Copy,” the dispatcher said, and silence followed for a moment. “221, deputy 228 responded to the call.”

      “Copy.” Kendall reached for her cell phone in the pocket of her vest. She didn’t have to look up the deputy’s number to get a name. She knew it well. It belonged to her cousin, Deputy Dylan McKade, who was off duty now. She dialed his personal cell and waited for him to answer.

      “What’s up, cuz?” he asked.

      “I’m calling about the welfare check you did this morning for Eve Smalley. I’m following up at her residence now and wondered if you found anything odd when you were here.”

      “Yeah, maybe.” His cheery tone evaporated. “The car was in the drive. Didn’t look like it’d been driven in some time, but she didn’t answer the door. I looked in the windows and saw nothing odd. Both doors were locked. There wasn’t any sign of foul play, so I couldn’t enter the home. I asked the desk sergeant to follow up with the nephew.”

      “That’s why I’m here now. Nephew says the aunt doesn’t go out at night and asked us to check back, but the car’s here, and there aren’t any lights on.”

      “Doesn’t sound good.” Dylan’s alarming tone raised Kendall’s concern even more. “Maybe we can get the nephew to drive over from Houston.”

      Kendall swallowed down her worry. “No point in making him do so if it’s a false alarm. I’ll take a good look around first.”

      “Let me know what happens, okay?”

      “Sure thing.” She disconnected and stowed her phone.

      She took her car keys and closed the door, leaving the vehicle running to keep the lights trained on the house. Their squad cars were equipped with a Run Lock System, so if someone tried to steal the car and engaged either the hand or foot brake, the engine immediately cut out.

      She pocketed her keys, snapped off the safety strap on her holster and cautiously approached the door. She pounded hard, and her training kicked in, forcing her to stand next to the door and out of the line of fire should there be an altercation.

      Kendall listened carefully—cicadas buzzing in the woods was the only sound—and then knocked again. “Mrs. Smalley, Deputy McKade here. I need to talk to you.”

      A faint rustling came from inside. She waited for the door to open. It didn’t. Had she wanted the woman to be home so badly that she imagined the sound?

      She pounded harder. No one came to the door. She twisted the doorknob. Locked. Time for that look around the property.

      She made her way to the side of the house, running the flashlight over thick shrubs hugging the foundation. A soft breeze played across the yard but did nothing to lessen the eighty-degree temperature, raised another five degrees by heavy humidity.

      Kendall stopped at the first window and peered in but saw nothing in the darkness beyond the first few feet of wood flooring. Easing ahead, her back against the house for protection, she glanced in the next window near the rear of the unfenced yard. She pressed her hands against the glass and rested her face on them. A man’s silhouette flashed in the distance, then was swallowed up by the darkness.

      What in the world? No one else had a key. Or should be there.

      Instincts had Kendall shooting back and grabbing her radio. “221 requesting backup at Smalley residence. Possible intruder.”

      “Copy,” the dispatcher said.

      A loud crash sounded inside. A shot of adrenaline hit Kendall hard. Indecision followed.

      She should wait for backup. No, she couldn’t. Not when this older woman could be hurt. Maybe in danger. The home was located on the far-north side of their county. It could be ten minutes or more before backup arrived, and Mrs. Smalley could be dead by then.

      Kendall lifted her gun and flashlight, then eased ahead. She swung around the rear wall and took three steps up to a deck. She turned the knob on the back door. Unlocked.

      Odd. Dylan said it had been locked that morning.

      Kendall scanned the wood and doorjamb—saw no sign of forced entry, but the intruder could’ve come in a window. She pushed the door open and stepped off to the side to listen.

      Silence reigned. No movement.

      “Police!” she shouted. “Show yourself. Come to the door with your hands on your head.”

      She waited. Counting.

      One. Two. Three. Going higher and higher. Hitting twenty.

      “This is your last warning,” she called out. “Show yourself with hands on your head.”

      No sound. No movement.

      She stepped to the door. Shone her light inside. Paused. Assessed.

      The kitchen lay ahead. A door on the far wall led out of the room. She ran her flashlight over the space. Old cabinets. A small table. Worn flooring with a large puddle of dried blood.

      Blood. There was blood. Something bad had happened here. Not just now, as the blood had dried. But it had happened.

      Disturbing images built in Kendall’s mind, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She held up her service weapon. Her heart thumping, she stepped in and headed toward the door.

      Silently. Slowly. Cautiously.

      She pointed her flashlight into the opening before she moved forward and put herself in a СКАЧАТЬ