Secret Alibi. Lori L. Harris

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      “You wouldn’t dare!” Lexie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calm down. Just a head game. That’s all the threat was. He might burn the papers, but he wouldn’t burn the house. He wasn’t quite that crazy.

      As she sat there in the dark, though, she realized that she was wrong. Drunk and mad, Dan might be capable of almost anything.

      “Okay, Dan. We’ll play it your way one last time.”

      She tossed the phone on the seat and turned the key in the ignition. If the papers weren’t signed, that was it. She’d kept her mouth shut for way too long. But no more.

      Ten minutes later, Lexie paused at the end of the driveway leading down to the Victorian that she’d once shared with Dan. This house and Riverhouse had passed into her hands nearly four years ago with the death of her grandparents. Just the thought of losing it frightened her. As Dan had known it would.

      Unlike most in the neighborhood, the large home with its deep, wraparound porch sat well off the boulevard. Several ancient live oaks blocked the view of the house from the road, their dark limbs so low-slung they appeared to rest on the lawn before rising skyward. As a child, she had spent summers crawling on those sturdy branches, climbing upward to where a thick bounty of leaves had made her invisible. At least once, when her mother had come to collect Lexie at summer’s end, she’d sought refuge there.

      And there had been unpleasant consequences for that action.

      Lexie took her foot off the brake and let the car creep down the brick drive. Some lessons stayed with you for a lifetime. Avoidance was an option, but it was rarely a solution.

      The front light wasn’t on, and large, dense hedges blocked any light from neighboring homes, making the yard extremely dark. A lamp in the foyer and the one in Dan’s office were on, though.

      With the rain having increased to a steady drum on the car roof, Lexie removed her coat before getting out. She held it over her head as she made a run for the door. Her eyes darted toward the wide set of stairs that climbed from the brick walkway to the porch, but just as quickly she looked away. She couldn’t go up them. She would never use those stairs again.

      As she started for the back of the house, she saw movement, a shadow, just inside the front door. He must have seen her headlights. He’d know to meet her at the back door.

      Lexie sprinted across the thick St. Augustine grass, now slick with rain, and ducked under the back porch covering. She shook the dampness off her jacket. Shoving her arms back into the sleeves, she peered through the glass, waiting for Dan to come into view.

      They’d remodeled the kitchen two years ago, replacing the ceramic tile countertops of the 1920s with granite and the original cabinets with new ones that had been made to look old. The under-cabinet lighting they’d added gave the room a peaceful glow.

      As she stood there, though, the knot in her stomach tightened. The last time he’d gotten her over here with a promise of signed papers, there had been candles, wine and a diamond bracelet waiting instead of the papers.

      One look and she’d been out of there.

      When she didn’t see Dan after half a minute, she knocked. Pulling her damp suit jacket closed, she crossed her arms to hold it that way. “Come on. It’s too damn cold for this.”

      Several seconds later, when there was still no Dan, she tried the door and, finding it unlocked, debated going on in. Was that what he wanted? For her to come in? Was he waiting for her naked on the couch again?

      She stood there weighing her options. She didn’t relish the idea of dealing with a drunk, naked man, but it wouldn’t be the first time. There was also the possibility that he had simply passed out. If he had, and if by some miracle the papers were signed, she could just grab them and leave. No confrontations.

      Lexie pushed the door open. The first thing that struck her when she stepped inside was the silence.

      Dan liked noise. He always had the television going, or left a CD on. He couldn’t handle being alone. It was the same reason he drank. The same reason he occasionally abused Valium.

      “Dan?”

      When he didn’t respond, the knot in her chest tightened. Something didn’t feel quite right….

      “Dan? Where are you?”

      As she crossed the kitchen, heading for the door leading into the dining room, she opened her jacket. The house was unusually warm, which wasn’t like him, either. He always kept the place cold enough for a polar bear.

      She shoved open the swinging door. When she let it go, it closed behind her, the only light now coming from the lamp on the old English chest in the foyer.

      “Dan?”

      Her footsteps echoed on the oak flooring, and then were muffled by the foyer’s Persian carpet. A thin swath of light spilled out from where the door to his office stood ajar. She called out one last time when she was still several feet away.

      Two scents registered simultaneously. Blood. Fresh blood. She remembered it from the few times she’d entered an operating room. And the underlying scent, the much more subtle one—cordite.

      “No!” Her heart crashed inside her rib cage as her gut twisted in fear. Her palms slammed into the door, her forward momentum carrying her halfway across the room before the scene registered: Dan slumped at his desk, his head resting in a large pool of blood. Lexie kept going, something inside her refusing to believe—until she touched his hand.

      Releasing cold fingers, she jerked backward, almost as if something had struck her a physical blow. Her hand came up to cover her mouth. Too late, she realized there was blood on it.

      She stared at it, then at Dan. She tried to take a deep breath, but couldn’t. It was as if her brain, her body, had forgotten how, had been short-circuited by what was in front of her.

      The first wave of nausea hit her, forcing her to stumble backward, toward the door. She clamped a hand over her mouth as if that could stop the vomit. She made it as far as the small bathroom beneath the stairs.

      When the retching passed, she leaned against the sink, afraid her legs would give out. Dear God, this couldn’t be happening! Not to Dan. What would make him commit—?

      When she lifted her gaze to the mirror, her thoughts suddenly derailed.

      She hadn’t closed the door behind her. She was sure of it. But it was shut tight. And everything inside her told her there was someone on the other side.

      Waiting for her.

      Chapter Two

      Rain came down hard and steady as Deep Water’s chief of police, Jack Blade, was waved through the barricade by a slicker-clad patrolman.

      Wadding up the wrapper from a greasy cheeseburger, Jack tossed it back in the sack, then rolled down the window to speak with the officer.

      “Who’s all here, Hank?”

      “Ellis, Martinez, Shepherd, Fitz. The D.A. did a quick walk-through about forty-five minutes ago.”

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