A Broken Bone (Widow's Island #6) - Melinda Leigh Page 0,10

captivity for more than two decades. Five months ago, Tessa and Cate had helped find and free her.

Tessa could not ignore a middle-of-the-night call from Sam. She answered the phone. “What’s wrong, Sam?”

Sam said, “Someone broke in.”

“I’ll be right there.” Tessa jumped out of bed, shed her pajama bottoms, and stepped into clean uniform pants.

Logan was already on his phone. “I’m calling my grandmother to come over.”

“But it’s only four thirty in the morning.” Tessa shoved her hair back into a ponytail and reached for a shirt. She was stretched in more directions than one person could possibly handle. How could she care for her mother, her sister, a traumatized friend, and a whole freaking town?

“She won’t mind,” Logan said. “She’s probably up already anyway. Just breathe.”

Tessa tried, but she felt like she was suffocating.

4

Logan followed Tessa’s patrol SUV into town. Samantha Bishop lived with her mother, Marsha, in a small house in North Sound, within walking distance of the shops. Marsha had recently purchased the town’s small jewelry shop, Shiny Objects. Sam’s mother had made jewelry for many years, but shop ownership was a new venture. Marsha kept jewelry supplies at home. Had someone broken in to steal them?

Tessa rushed to the front door. Sam opened it. Logan hung back while the ladies hugged.

Sam stepped back to let them inside. She wore red flannel pajamas adorned with penguins. They walked into a bright kitchen. Never sure how Sam was coping with more than twenty years of rape and captivity, Logan gave her plenty of space.

All the lights were blazing. Sam’s mother, Marsha, stood in the center of the small room, one hand pressed to the base of her throat. She wore a pale-blue ankle-length robe. Jewelry-making supplies were strewed across the kitchen table.

Tessa scanned the space, looking for Sam’s eight-year-old son. “Where’s Mickey?”

Sam nodded toward the hallway. “He didn’t wake. These days, he plays hard and sleeps hard.” Sam’s mouth softened as she talked about her son.

“What happened?” Tessa asked.

“We were sleeping. I heard a noise.” Sam shuddered. “I came into the kitchen and saw a man in the kitchen. As soon as he saw me, he ran out the back door.”

Anyone would have found that terrifying, but with Sam’s history, it was amazing she was functioning.

“That’s a good sign,” said Logan. “He didn’t want a confrontation.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Sam’s brows drew into a deep V.

“Can you describe him?” Tessa asked.

“Not really.” Sam shook her head. “It was dark.”

Tessa and Logan crossed the room. A sliding glass door led to a tiny backyard.

“He lifted the slider off its tracks,” Tessa said.

Sam shuddered. “Is that all it takes to break in?”

“Unfortunately, yes, if you don’t have additional locks.” Tessa nodded.

Logan eyed the door. “I’ll install an additional lock for you today. This house is small. I can also alarm your door and windows and install some cameras.”

“Thank you,” Marsha said. “I appreciate your help. We should have put in an alarm already, but money is tight right now. Buying the shop stretched us, but we wanted to invest in ourselves. We’d spent so many years at a standstill it felt important that we take a big step forward.”

Sam looked away. Marsha might have been ready to move forward, but was Sam? More than two decades of captivity had left a mark. In the months since she’d been rescued, Sam hadn’t left the island.

“I’ll dust the glass for fingerprints.” Tessa went out the front door and returned in a few minutes with her kit.

Logan turned to Sam. “Where was he standing when you saw him?”

Sam pointed. “There, next to the kitchen table. He was leaning over the table and shoving things into his pockets.”

Logan went to the place she’d indicated, next to the kitchen table. “Was he taller or shorter than me?”

“Shorter. About six inches.”

Logan stood at six-two. “So he’s around five-eight.”

Sam nodded.

“What about his build?” Logan tapped his own chest.

“Not big.” Sam shook her head. “He looked normal for his height.”

Tessa turned to Sam’s mother. “Did you see him, Marsha?”

“No.” Marsha worried the edges of her robe. “I heard Sam scream and ran in the room after he went out the back door. I saw his shadow go over the fence.”

“We’ll check for footprints too.” Tessa took a photo of the kitchen table. “Could you tell his race or hair color?”

“Sorry, no.” Sam folded her arms across her waist. When Tessa and Cate had brought her home, Sam had been startlingly skeletal, like a strong breeze