stopped and squatted down by a twisted oak. He pulled his gun from under a pile of leaves where he must have put it before swimming out to get her. While he dusted off the dirt and grabbed whatever else he’d stored in the pile of leaves, Heather glanced anxiously around, keeping watch. Nick stood and grabbed her hand again, pulling her behind him through the woods. They rounded a clump of trees and suddenly they were on the front lawn of the house. Heather was surprised and relieved. She hadn’t realized they were this close.
The police car was no longer parked out front. Had the fake cops left? Or had they just hidden their car to make Nick and Heather think they’d left?
Her breath caught in her throat as they ran past Mark’s body, still lying on the grass. A reddish-brown stain darkened his shirt and spread down one side. She tugged her hand, trying to pull it out of Nick’s grasp so she could stop and check on Mark.
Nick’s fingers tightened around her wrist. He wouldn’t let her stop. “Keep going.”
The urgency in his voice had her pulse pounding in her ears. Had he seen something? Heard something? He pulled her at a dead run to the front door, then pressed her up against the side of the house, again using his body—his half-naked body, dressed only in jeans, without a bulletproof vest—to shield her. Heather wanted to scream at him and tell him how ridiculous and reckless he was being with his own safety, but she didn’t want to distract him, so she stayed silent. For now.
He held up one finger to his lips again, then held his palm out telling her to wait. He crouched down with his pistol out and dove in through the open front door. An agonizing ten or fifteen seconds later, he pulled her inside. He shut and locked the front door, waved her to silence again and disappeared down the long hallway.
It was too dark to see many details, but Heather could see the back door was closed. They’d left it open when they ran out that same door earlier this evening. Or had they? Had Nick closed it just now, when he came inside, before he pulled her inside with him? Had he had enough time to do that?
Her throat tightened at the sound of running feet. Nick ran from the hallway into the living room. He ran past her in a whisper of sound, heading into the kitchen. A door creaked, footsteps sounded. Was that Nick? Or someone else making those sounds?
She inched her way back toward the front door. Should she run for it? Go for help? Nick had said there weren’t any other houses on this road. Where would she run? Back to the ocean?
She stopped. No, no, she couldn’t run. She couldn’t leave Nick, not again. If only she had a gun. She chewed her bottom lip. Nick didn’t seem inclined to give her his backup gun. But did Mark have a backup gun? Had he mentioned that? She couldn’t remember.
A noise sounded from the garage to her right. Her knees started to shake. She had to do something. She couldn’t stand here waiting to be rescued, especially if Nick needed help. She squinted in the dim moonlight from the skylights. The end table by the couch had several statues on it. The dolphin statue looked heavy enough to crush a man’s skull if she put all her weight behind it. The idea of actually hitting someone with it had her stomach churning, but if that’s what it took to save Nick, she’d have to do it.
She pushed herself away from the wall and hurried to the statue before she lost her courage. Someone rushed into the room. Heather whirled around, lifting the statue before she recognized Nick’s familiar silhouette.
He stopped in front of her, his white teeth flashing in the dark. “You can put the dolphin down,” he teased. “The house is clear. I’m going to get Mark.”
Heather clutched the heavy statue to her chest. It was the only weapon she had and she wasn’t giving it up until Nick was safely back inside.
He opened the front door, holding his gun up at the ready. He leaned out before he ran
Susan Aldous, Nicola Pierce