The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,66
there!” she said, and while the dog whined to be let out and go after the intruder, she stood to peer through the blinds to the backyard. She was sweating, her throat tight, her mind spinning with all kinds of horrid scenarios.
But everything appeared calm. The house now quiet. The backyard fountain was still gurgling serenely. The pathway lanterns illuminated a rock wall near the fence line and up-lighting washed a soft glow up the trunk and spreading branches of the magnolia tree. No dark figure seemed to be lurking in the shadows, and the creak of the back gate as it moved in the wind suggested he’d run out of the yard. Her heart pounding, she hurried to the front of the house and squinted through the sidelights of the front door, searching the empty street for a car speeding away. She expected to see the red glow of taillights or hear the sound of a fading engine disappearing into the night, but she heard nothing other than the rush of distant traffic and the sigh of the wind moving through the branches of the trees flanking the house.
Turning, she spied Mikado, apparently without injury, trotting up to her. “You’re a good boy,” she said, bending down and patting his head. “Such a good, good boy.” He wiggled happily and seemed uninjured, thankfully.
Next, she checked all the doors and windows and found them all locked. All secure. So how had the intruder gotten in? With a sinking feeling, she wondered if she’d forgotten to lock the back door when she’d come home. Mentally she retraced her steps, coming into the house from the garage, wearing her sling, hauling her laptop bag and the takeout sack. Hadn’t she locked the door behind her? She’d been on the phone with that pushy reporter and walked inside and . . .
She didn’t remember.
Once more she went through a perimeter check, making certain she was alone and that every way into the house, even the dog door, was battened down. She thought about calling Reed and picked up her phone and hesitated. It would only upset him and she was safe now. And he’d be home soon. Right?
She decided to text and typed quickly.
FYI—Letting you know we had an intruder. Mikado chased him out. Never caught sight of him. Nothing stolen. Everything is okay. I’m fine. House is locked. See you soon.
She hesitated, then hit the send button and with one last glance around spied Jennings standing atop the bookcase in the den. “Come on. You too.” With the dog following, adrenaline still pumping through her veins, she headed upstairs.
The phone rang before she reached the second floor.
It was Reed. Of course.
“I’m on my way!” he shouted as she answered. He sounded out of breath. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Aside from being still terrified.
“What the hell happened?” She heard a car door open and close.
“Just what I said. There was someone in the house. He’s gone now. Mikado scared him off.”
“Hell.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not! Stay put.”
“Reed, really, I’m fine. Mikado’s fine.”
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“He was kicked.”
“Fuck! Seriously?”
“Yeah. But, really, he’s okay. I checked.”
“Good. I’ll be right there.” She heard an engine spark to life, a gearshift being rammed into gear. “Stay on the line with me.”
“I don’t need to—”
“For God’s sake, Nikki, just stay on the damned line.”
This time she didn’t argue. “Okay.”
“I’ll be home in ten minutes.”
He made it in eight.
CHAPTER 16
It was after midnight when the officer taking the report had left and Reed was satisfied that the house was secure, his wife was unharmed and the damned dog, who had apparently saved the day, wasn’t injured.
“This has something to do with the investigation,” he decided, forgoing a nightcap and stripping off his clothes. They were in the master bedroom and Nikki had already slipped between the covers. Her hair was still damp, surrounding her face in ringlets, her face without any makeup, her eyes following his every move.
God, he loved her.
Never had he met a woman who could stir so much passion in him.
And no one could piss him off so deeply.
“So from now on—”
“I know, I know, you’ve said it, like, twenty times or maybe thirty. ‘Double-check all the locks, keep my phone with me at all times and keep the dog at my side.’ Is that about it, Detective?”
“About,” he admitted, tossing his slacks over the back of a side chair where his crumpled shirt and tie were already draped. He threw his T-shirt onto the growing pile.