Sandy’s lips pressed together. Air bag for a mattress. Sleeping bag. The woman hadn’t even gotten a real bed. Carrie’s clothes were stacked neatly against the wall, a duffle bag open and ready at the end of the line.
Just in case she needed to leave quickly, Sandy knew. That was the same reason why Carrie hadn’t spent any money on furniture. She’d need her assets to remain liquid so that she could move on quickly at the slightest threat.
Sandy understood the drill and wished the world was different. Things were changing, but it was still a harsh world for so many women.
She walked into the bathroom and pretended to brush her teeth, then straightened her wig. From a distance, she could pass for Carrie…but up close, one would easily figure out she was a decoy.
Sandy pulled off her jeans, trying to move around the room just as Carrie would when getting ready for bed. The leggings underneath the jeans kept her from actually being naked during the upcoming takedown. She then slipped her pistol under the pillow, and turned off the lights. For a long moment, she contemplated going over to the window, just to look out and let the asshole know that she was here, waiting.
But that wasn’t something Carrie would do, so instead, she sat down on the floor and waited. Carrie wasn’t a victim, Sandy thought. Carrie might be scared, but hell, who wouldn’t? The woman wasn’t a victim. She was a survivor! A damn good one, she thought!
In her earpiece, she heard the words of warning, “He’s coming to you, Detective.”
Sandy slid along the floor to get in a better position to see the door. It was easy to do since there wasn’t a lot of furniture. Even so, she slid quietly, listening intently. There were no sounds anywhere but from her earpiece.
“He’s at the doorway,” one of the officers announced.
“The video has been confirmed, correct?” Sandy recognized the voice of Sheriff Davenport, her boss.
“Confirmed,” another officer responded.
“Confirmed and recording,” yet another said. Sandy knew that the second voice was from Andy who was the tech officer and was stationed half a block away, sitting in the police van.
“He’s in. Detective McLean, standby.”
Sandy heard the words and readied her weapon. At the last minute, she moved, shifting towards the side of the doorway and holstering her weapon.
“Carrie!” a male voice called out. There was a shattering of glass. Apparently, the jerk had dropped several of Carrie’s plates onto the kitchen floor. “I can’t believe you’re living in this dump, you bitch!”
Sandy slowed her breathing, picturing him as he moved through the kitchen.
“You know I’m going to kill you this time, don’t you Carrie?”
Sandy smiled, feeling the adrenaline shoot through her. “It’s going to be really slow. I’m going to have fun killing you, my little darling. You escaped from me last time. I won’t risk it again!” He laughed. The bastard actually laughed at the idea of killing a woman! What a bastard!
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he sing-songed.
Sandy heard him start up the stairs. The guy wasn’t even trying to be quiet.
“You know I’m going to hurt you even more if you make me have to look for you, Carrie!” he snapped. Apparently, his patience was at an end.
Sandy remained still, wanting him to lose his temper.
“Detective McLean, ping if you’re still in place,” her boss ordered softly through her earphone.
Sandy reached up silently and tapped her earpiece, giving the ping that would alert her team and boss that she was in place and prepared to take the bastard down.
“Officer Swanell, ping if you’re in place.”
Another ping. Sheriff Davenport went through the other officers that were standing by in the various rooms of the house. Each of them pinged back, indicating that they were not only ready, but waiting eagerly.
Finally, the bastard reached the top of the stairs. Stepping into the bedroom, the man lifted his arm. Sandy, safely off to the side of the door, waited.
“Now I have you, Carrie! And no, I’m not going to kill you. Yet!” He laughed, the sound coming across as more than slightly maniacal.
There was a gunshot and Sandy moved fast. She grabbed the bastard’s arm and twisted, forcing the pistol out of his hands. Simply because he’d shot the woman’s air mattress, which certainly didn’t deserve to die, Sandy continued to twist. Whoops! His arm came out of his shoulder socket.
“John Mingram, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Carrie Andrews. For the