CAUGHT IN A KILLER’S CROSSHAIRS

Were it not for her cop neighbor, widowed mother Madison Jacobs would be dead. Thankfully, Detective Brody Philips interrupts an attempt on her life in the nick of time. But the would-be killer hasn’t given up, and each tick of the clock brings the madman closer to finishing what he started. Brady vows to catch the serial killer plaguing the sleepy Virginia town…especially when he realizes the danger has followed him from the big city. With everyone around him at risk, it’ll take everything Brody’s got to do his duty and keep Madison and her son safe.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you, Madison. Make sure you stay safe,” Brody said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I wish I felt so certain.” What about Lincoln? What if the man who attacked her came back and tried to harm her son? She couldn’t bear the thought of it. Perhaps she should simply take Lincoln and go somewhere, anywhere.

“We’ll catch him, Madison.” Brody’s voice sounded confident, reassuring. It was as if he could read her mind.

Just then, they pulled up to her house.

With each step she took toward her back door, nausea rumbled in her gut. Could she face this nightmare again? She swallowed as they stepped inside, trying to stay strong. Brody led her to the foyer.

“I’ve got you,” he said, a reassuring hand on her arm.

CHRISTY BARRITT

loves stories and has been writing them for as long as she can remember. She gets her best ideas when she’s supposed to be paying attention to something else—like in a workshop or while driving down the road.

The second book in her Squeaky Clean Mystery series, Suspicious Minds, won the inspiration category of the 2009 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery. She’s also the co-author of Changed: True Stories of Finding God in Christian Music.

When she’s not working on books, Christy writes articles for various publications. She’s also a weekly feature writer for the Virginian-Pilot newspaper, the worship leader at her church and a frequent speaker at various writers groups, women’s luncheons and church events.

She’s married to Scott, a teacher and funny man extraordinaire. They have two sons, two dogs and a houseplant named Martha.

To learn more about her, visit her website, www.christybarritt.com.

Race Against Time

Christy Barritt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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My God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,

my shield and the horn of my salvation.

He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior—from violent men You save me.

—2 Samuel 22:3

This book is dedicated to my mom, Louise Mohorn, a beautiful soul inside and out,

and someone I aspire to be like. I love you!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

As soon as Madison Jacobs stepped into her house, the sound of ticking crept from an unknown crevice and reverberated in her ears. She froze at the front door, car keys still in hand, and listened. She usually came home to the solitude of a quiet house.

So what in the world was that noise?

She’d only been gone twenty minutes—long enough to drop her son off at preschool and return home. Each tick tightened her nerves, winding them with more tension than a spring.

Lincoln must have left the timer going on one of his toys, she realized. Didn’t that windup dragon make a similar sound? Yes, it did.

Madison let out an airy laugh, shook her head and closed the door, shutting out the bright rays of sunshine from outside. Of course, one of her son’s toys was to blame. What else did she think it was? A bomb? She chastised herself again for her out-of-control imagination.

Out of habit she clicked the lock on the front door into place. Being a single mom for the past three years, she tried to err on the side of caution. After depositing her purse and keys on the marble-topped table in the foyer, she glanced at her watch and saw she only had one hour before she had to meet with her next client. She had to get showered and changed out of her yoga pants and T-shirt—and fast.

As she started down the hallway toward the bedroom in her ranch house, the ticking intensified. She paused at the bathroom door. Was that where the sound came from? Reaching inside the bathroom, she flipped on the lights. Her blue-and-yellow lighthouse-themed room came into view. On the bathroom counter between the faucet and the soap dispenser sat her son’s old-fashioned egg timer. Had Lincoln actually taken her advice to brush his teeth for two minutes this morning? Perhaps he’d accidentally set the clock for longer.

She picked the plastic device up, noting it was set to chime in twenty minutes, and twisted the handle until the bells jangled. Her nerves seemed to stretch tighter at the sound.

But if her son had set the timer before they’d left this morning, why hadn’t she heard anything? She remembered their rushed departure. The TV had been on, Lincoln had been singing his favorite preschool song, and she had been frantically trying to urge him out the door.

Her schedule was tight today and she couldn’t afford to even start it a minute late, knowing if she did her tardiness would have a domino effect and put her behind on all of her appointments.

She tossed the timer into a drawer that overflowed with hairbrushes and toy boats, and then hurried across the hall to the spare bedroom-turned-office. Finding her calendar, she checked her schedule one more time and reviewed her assignments for the day. Just seeing the jam-packed list made her feel weary. But she had to squeeze in as much work as possible. Making ends meet as a single parent was becoming harder and harder.

She closed the calendar and, wasting no more time, went into the master bathroom. After showering she towel dried her shoulder-length honey-blond hair and threw on some khakis and a button-up white top. Five minutes later she’d applied make up, grabbed her camera from her office and started down the hall. She had fifteen minutes to get to her appointment. Time would be tight, but she could do it.

She froze midway down the hall and placed a hand on her hip.

What was that sound?

She shook her head. It couldn’t be…

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.

Fear pricked her skin.

The timer? She’d turned it off. Thrown it in the drawer.

Was she hearing things? The sound was subtle, subdued. Maybe the device had started again in the drawer? The thing was cheap, often turning off in the middle of one of Lincoln’s time-out sessions. Had it turned on by itself now?

She sighed and stepped back into the hallway bathroom. Flipping on the light, she yanked the drawer open and found the timer exactly where she’d thrown it. She picked it up and shook her head. Cheap thing. It had been free, sent as a part of an advertising campaign for some new company in town. What was that slogan? Don’t Let Time Run Out on Our Special? Clever.

Before she could twist the plastic white timer off, the bell jangled.

Madison jumped, dropping her camera bag onto the tiled bathroom floor. Papers detailing today’s work scattered all over the room. Hand over her heart, she laughed at herself. Silly woman. Jumping at nothing.

She dropped the timer back into the drawer, shaking her head. Why was she so skittish? And over something so silly?

She caught a glance of herself in the mirror over the sink, noting the circles under her eyes. She’d been working too much lately, worried too much about finances. She leaned toward her reflection and wiped a streak of mascara under her eye. As she turned to leave, something in the mirror caught her eye.

She glanced at the reflection of the shower curtain behind her.

Her heart froze.

A man stood there, a knife in his hand. Before she could scream, he grabbed her.

* * *

Brody Philips always considered sweat a good measure of hard work. If that was the case, then his jog this morning should earn him a vacation. He continued on his ten-mile run, nearly finished now. The hot and muggy day couldn’t even be eased by the gentle breeze that floated from the Chesapeake Bay.

The part of the Bay he lived by wasn’t the sandy beach area. Instead, marsh grasses jutted up and little streams filled with tadpoles and crabs meandered between the foliage. Herons and egrets made their homes in the sun-bleached wetland area. Finally the grasses subsided until the glorious blue of the bay shone in the distance.

His house—actually, his cousin’s house that had been kindly loaned out to Brody for the next several months while his cousin was stationed with the army in the Middle East—stood in the distance. He passed the home of his one and only neighbor on the secluded street.

He’d met her once. Madison Jacobs. She’d come over that first week after he’d moved in to introduce herself. She seemed nice enough and certainly she was easy on the eyes. But Brody hadn’t moved here to make friends, not even acquaintances, really. He’d moved here to get away from everything about his past in New York.

The secluded little Virginia town was the perfect spot for his self-imposed hiatus from his old life. He’d taken a job as a detective for the county’s sheriff’s department, one that was considerably slower paced than his former position in the Big Apple. Aside from his job, he avoided most of the townspeople when possible and whenever he needed a dose of anonymity, he visited the nearby city of Newport News or headed to Virginia Beach.

His neighbor had seemed to take the hint and hadn’t bothered him since that first introduction when he’d moved in. The woman—pretty with her sun-kissed skin, natural blond hair, and sparkling blue eyes—would smile tightly and wave as she passed him in her SUV coming and going. The action wasn’t overly exuberant, but appeared to be more of a forced courtesy.

Perhaps he should have been friendlier when she’d rung his doorbell, toddler and cookies in tow. He’d taken one look at her and known that getting to know her better would be way too tempting. Instead, he’d done the opposite and offered as little information about himself as possible before insisting he was in the middle of something so she’d go home. Her eyes had changed from friendly to perceptive and then annoyed as he’d closed the door. Good. It was better that way.

As his feet hit the dusty road, rocks crunching beneath him, a sharp, high-pitched sound split the air.

Brody slowed his pace and wiped the perspiration around his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. Was that a scream? Or was it the shrieking call of one of the marsh birds?

He glanced at Madison’s house. Her car was in the driveway, but he didn’t see her anywhere. She must be inside, either chasing her toddler or doing some work. He couldn’t be positive, but his best guess was that the woman worked at home.

His jog slowed to a walk, and he kept his ear attuned for any more sounds. Nothing. He must have imagined the earlier noise.

He tried to be satisfied with that, but he wasn’t convinced. He was a detective. His finely trained instincts told him to stay on guard.

Something crashed in the distance. The sound had definitely come from Madison’s house. His muscles tensed. He should go back to his house, get his gun. But everything in him screamed to get to her house, that time couldn’t be wasted.

He ran across crunchy grass toward his neighbor’s brick ranch. His gaze scanned the house as he approached. Nothing appeared out of place. The closed shades made it impossible to see inside.

He crept onto the wooden porch, grabbing a baseball bat left on a rocking chair. Slowly he twisted the brass handle of the front door.

Locked.

Something else crashed inside. A woman cried out.

He pictured Madison’s pretty face and imagined the horrors that might be going on inside. Adrenaline surged in him. He backed up and, on the count of three, charged forward. His shoulder impacted with the door. Wood split, cracked, then crashed.

The foyer stood before him. Dust and wood particles settled to the tile floor. Then an eerie quiet filled the space.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Brody stepped over the door, his ears attuned for any telltale signs. Bat in hand, he peered around the corner into the hallway.

A shadow passed by a door in the distance.

Sucking in a deep breath, he braced himself for whatever was to come.

* * *

Blurry. Fuzzy. Jumbled.

The drugs—whatever the masked man had injected into her—caused Madison’s thoughts to swirl. Fight it, Madison. Fight it. She couldn’t let herself fall into unconsciousness. The rope around her neck would choke her if she did. She had to resist the urge to close her eyes. Fight death. Fight for life.

Her head bobbed forward and the rope dug into her neck. She jerked back. Gulped in a breath.

Lord, give me strength.

But her limbs felt like gelatin. The stool she stood on wobbled. The man who wanted her dead would return and finish his cruel game.

A moan escaped her, the sound guttural, desperate.

Her head fell forward again. She gagged. Pulled her head back. Gasped for air.

Lincoln. She blinked, trying to find focus. She had to fight this for him. The boy couldn’t lose two parents before he reached the age of five. Tears pricked her eyes as her son’s sweet face flashed in her mind. She needed to be there for him, to comfort him when he got hurt, to tuck him into bed at night.

Her tears made breathing hard. She couldn’t let herself fall into despair. She had to stay strong.

But how long could she stand here? How long before the drugs kicked in and knocked her out completely? Was there any hope of surviving?

Her eyes darted around the room. Where had the man gone? And had she heard a crash or imagined it? What was the madman planning next?

Her head dipped. Her airway constricted.

Not much longer.

She jerked her head back, fighting to stay lucid. But tiredness closed in on her.

A figure appeared in the doorway. Not again. What would her attacker do this time? She cried out, tried to back up. The rope tightened around her neck.

“It’s just me.” The man rushed toward her.

Madison blinked. Her neighbor? Or was this a hallucination? Maybe she’d already drifted into an unconscious state and the drugs were playing tricks on her mind.

“Madison.” He muttered the word. His arms encircled her waist and raised her up. She gulped in breaths, thankful for relief.

But her relief was short-lived. Her head whirled. Blackness closed in on her.

“Don’t fade now. I’m going to get you down. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, but it was already too late. Everything went dark.

TWO

The nightmare from Brody’s past flooded his mind, making nausea roil in his stomach. Horrifying images and intense emotions flashed through him, each one feeling like a sock in the gut. He blanched before pushing the thoughts away. No time to dwell on that now. If he didn’t act quickly a woman could die in his arms.

His gaze searched the room. He had to find something to cut his neighbor down from the ceiling. But if he released her to search for a knife, she’d choke.

His heart racing, he continued searching with his eyes, looking for something…anything.

Nothing. Just some clothes on the dresser. A hair brush. Shoes. Pillows. Typical bedroom items.

Think, Brody. Think.

His muscles strained. The woman was a deadweight in his arms. She’d lost consciousness and it was only a matter of time before she lost her life.

Adrenaline surged through him. Not again.

He looked at the ceiling fan that held the rope and made a split-second decision. Still holding Madison with one arm, he grabbed the fan’s motor. Using all of his strength, he jerked down on the device.

The ceiling cracked.

He gripped the motor tighter and, yanking up his legs, let his weight do the rest of the job. The entire fan tumbled to the floor, himself and Madison with it. He didn’t bother to brush off the plaster that covered them. Instead he grabbed the rope around his neighbor’s neck. He pulled the noose until it widened enough to jerk it off. Then he went to work on the ties around her wrists.

She lay limp in his arms. He did a quick examination. Red, raw skin surrounded her neck. Torn shirt. Bleeding forehead. But she was breathing. Thank goodness she was breathing.

Any minute now an ambulance and the sheriff should be here. He’d grabbed a phone from a table in the foyer and hit 911 before proceeding down the hallway.

He gently shook the woman. “Madison? Madison? Can you hear me?”

She moaned.

What exactly had happened in here? Had the woman—who had seemed mild mannered enough—flown into a rage before deciding to end her own life? Could that be what the sounds were that he’d heard? It was the only explanation that made sense.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

“Help’s coming,” he whispered, pushing the woman’s hair back from her face. “Help is coming.”

He only hoped they’d get here fast enough.

* * *

Brody paced the hospital hallway, waiting for the doctor to give him the go-ahead to speak with his neighbor about what had happened. The rubber soles of his athletic shoes squeaked against the shiny linoleum floor, the noise offset by the sound of machines beeping and nurses murmuring and a lunch cart rattling.

He couldn’t get the image of Madison hanging by a rope attached to the ceiling fan out of his mind.

It reminded him so much of Lindsey…

He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t go there. He had to ignore the memories that slammed into his mind with enough force that an ache began to throb at the back of his head.

Instead, he replayed the events from today. What would drive a woman with a small son to try and commit suicide? He knew her husband had died in an auto accident a few years ago. His cousin had told him that much. Had Madison, who always seemed so pleasant and warm, decided she couldn’t take it anymore? He would never have guessed her to be the type, but he’d also learned in his years as a detective that you never knew what went on behind closed doors. The most put-together person could in reality be a total mess, just be a master at disguising it.

Something nagged at Brody. Though it appeared his neighbor had tried to commit suicide, something felt wrong. He remembered the noise he’d heard as he jogged outside her home. It almost sounded as if she was being attacked. The noise must have been coming from Madison, though, because there was no evidence to suggest foul play.

“Detective Philips?” The nurse behind the counter called him. He could tell by her gaze that she found him attractive. He knew enough to be able to read that from her wide smile and doelike eyes.

He stepped forward. “Yes?”

She dangled the phone toward him. “The sheriff wants to speak to you.”

He crossed the hall and took the phone, giving the nurse a brief smile. “Detective Philips here.”

“Just wanted to let you know that we found a suicide note. I don’t know what Madison did before hanging herself. The house is a wreck. But it’s definitely an attempted suicide.”

Brody wasn’t sure why he felt disappointed. He’d wanted to believe his neighbor wasn’t capable of wanting to end her own life. He didn’t know her, but perhaps he’d made up his own version of what she’d be like. She seemed to have everything so together, to be such a loving mother. She wouldn’t purposely leave her son an orphan…would she?

“Thanks for letting me know.” He cleared his throat. “What did it say?”

“Basically that she loves her family, but she can’t get over the heartache of losing her husband. Poor girl has had a bad run of luck since Reid died. I’ve known her since she was in diapers. I never thought I’d see this day. Never.”

“No one ever does.”

“Be kind to her, you hear? I’d be there myself, but I’m on my way to a drunk-driving accident. You tell her I’ll be checking on her later.”

“Of course.” He handed the phone back to the nurse, careful not to smile back again and give the woman the wrong idea.

So, it had been a suicide attempt. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He still wore his jogging clothes. He hadn’t had time to go home and change. The sheriff had ordered that he go with the paramedics to the hospital and write up a report. For some strange reason, Brody wanted to hear what she had to say for herself. He’d lost his mom to cancer at fifteen years old, and he couldn’t respect anyone who tried to end their life. It was a cowardly way out.

The door to her room opened and a young doctor with a receding hairline stepped out, clipboard in hand. “You can see her now. She’s still not one hundred percent, so go easy on her. You only have a few minutes. She needs her rest.”

Brody nodded, nausea rising in his gut as he stepped into Madison’s room. His gaze went straight to the woman in the hospital bed, her hair fanned beneath her, an IV in her arm, dullness in her eyes. She didn’t bother to smile as he approached.

As he touched the metal bed railing, he cleared his throat. “Madison.”

She nodded. “Detective Philips.”

“I need to write up a report.”

She touched the sensitive skin around her neck and looked toward the window. Her hand then moved to her temple until finally she looked at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t think the drugs have worn off yet. My mind is…not right.”

She’d taken drugs before hanging herself? Had the medication not worked fast enough? He’d never understand some people. He pulled out his notebook and a pen, and tried to keep any judgment out of his voice. It wasn’t like he had any room to judge anyone, not after everything he’d done. “Drugs, you said? What did you take?”

Some of the dullness left her eyes and she straightened slightly. Her gaze fully focused on him now. “What did I take? I didn’t take anything. A man injected me with something.”

Brody rotated his shoulders back. “A man?”

“You thought I was trying to kill myself?”

“There was a suicide note.” His gut instinct had been right. There was more to this story. Had her attacker been in the house when he had broken in? He had to tell the sheriff, get the deputies to start a search. Maybe there was some evidence that hadn’t been destroyed by the crew of paramedics, firefighters and sheriff’s deputies roaming her place.

“The man—the monster—forced me to write the note. Had a knife to my throat.” She closed her eyes, as if the memory physically hurt. When she opened them, Brody saw the pain there. “I thought I was going to die. If you hadn’t come when you did…”

He cleared his throat. “Can you tell me anything about the man who did this to you?”

“He wore a black mask. Medium height. Thin, but strong. His shoes were dirty. Dusty almost. I think…I think his eyes were brown. His voice was disguised.”

“Disguised how? By an electronic voice modulator?”

“No, it just sounded like he was trying to make his voice deeper as he spoke.”

“His voice didn’t sound familiar?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all.”

Brody sat down in the chair at her bedside. “I know it’s going to be difficult, but I need you to tell me everything that happened. Every detail will be important.”

The door opened and the same young doctor strode inside. “Not right now. She needs to rest. Her body has been through serious trauma and she needs to recover. She can answer your questions later.”

Brody stood. “Time is of the essence here, doc. The more time that passes, the less likely it is that we’ll find this guy.”

“You’ll be the first person we tell when she’s rested up. But now I’ve got to insist that you leave.”

Brody looked back at Madison and saw her eyes were closed. Reluctantly, he nodded and stepped from the room. He’d wait outside the door until she woke. In the meantime, he’d get a crime-scene crew out to her house to look for evidence.

Who would do this to someone like Madison? He didn’t intend to slow down until he found out.

* * *

When Madison awoke again, her head pounded. She’d hoped the events of the day were simply a terrible nightmare, but the beeping of the heart monitor and the IV attached to her arm proved that the attack had been all too real. Tears filled her eyes, followed by relief that she’d survived and anger that the attack had happened at all.

“Reid,” she whispered. Life had been so much easier when she’d had someone to share her burdens with. It still didn’t seem fair that her husband had been taken from her so early. They’d had so much of life left to share together.

The drugs still made her mind feel sluggish, made her emotions harder to reign in. Her eyelids still drooped. Her limbs felt heavy.

Brody’s face floated into her thoughts. Thank goodness for her neighbor. Though he’d not even given her the time of day since he’d moved in, at least he’d been there when she’d needed him.

Madison had been put off when she’d first introduced herself to him. She’d only wanted to make the newcomer feel welcome in the neighborhood. But the man had acted as if she had made a pass at him and he’d wanted to send a clear “not interested” message. Sure, the man was handsome. Any woman would think so. He had thick, dark brown hair, even features, broad shoulders and towered at least six feet tall. He’d reminded her a bit of a Ken doll, which she didn’t find necessarily complimentary. Brody almost appeared too plastic, his eyes too lifeless.

Besides, Madison hadn’t for a single minute been interested in another man since Reid died. She knew the kind of love they had was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. To find someone else who shared her faith in God, who understood her and respected her the way her late husband had didn’t seem like even a remote possibility. What they’d felt for each other had been beautiful and when Lincoln was born, life had seemed perfect.

Lincoln.

Her gaze darted the room, searching for a clock. Three thirty. Someone needed to pick up Lincoln from preschool. She had to call someone to get him.

She swung her hand toward the phone on her nightstand, but her fingers fumbled. The device crashed to the floor with a loud jangle of metal and plastic.

She threw her feet over the side of the bed. Her IV tugged at her wrist, the medical tape pulling at her skin. Her entire body felt like it might topple out of bed.

Momentum seemed to pull her toward the floor and the room began to spin. Just then the door burst open. Brody rushed toward her. His strong hands caught her shoulders and eased her back into the hospital bed before she hit the floor.

“What are you doing?”

She pushed her head into her pillow, praying the wave of dizziness would pass. “Lincoln. My son. Someone needs to pick him up from preschool. He’s going to be scared, think I forgot him.”

He cleared his throat. “I asked my cousin to pick him up for you.”

Madison’s mind raced. “Kayla?” Kayla was one of Lincoln’s preschool teachers and also went to church with them. The two had recently struck up a friendship, but it was still new, not the kind of friendship where you asked for favors yet.

“I know you two know each other, so I figured you’d trust her. I do.”

Madison did trust Kayla and so did Lincoln. That was the important thing. She didn’t want her son to be freaked out by everything that had happened. “How’d you know someone needed to pick him up?”

“I’m a detective. I’m paid to be observant.”

“He can’t go to our home. Or see me like this. I should call her…” Her thoughts crashed into one another. She again started to reach for the phone, but Brody eased her back toward the bed.

“Don’t worry. I asked her to take him to the park and to get some ice cream. He can stay with her as long as needed. You’ll probably be discharged today. You can both stay with her if you need to. I know she’d be more than happy to help out with Lincoln. Don’t tell her I told you, but I’m pretty sure he’s her favorite student. She talks about him all the time. Those kids are her life.”

Some of the tension left Madison’s shoulders. Kayla’s bubbly personality connected with the preschoolers in her class, and since she was single and had no children of her own, her students did seem to be her life. “Wow. You thought of everything. Thank you.”

He shrugged. “I just tried to put myself in your shoes.”

“I appreciate it.”

He glanced toward the door before looking back at her, a professional uptightness replacing his earlier sympathy. “Listen, I know the doctor hasn’t freed you to talk with me, but do you feel up to going over what happened?”

She pushed herself up, trying to ignore her aching body as she gathered her wits. Did she really want to relive what had happened? “I just want to forget.”

“Forgetting won’t get this man behind bars.”

She touched the tender area around her neck, remembered the feeling of the rope there. Was it even possible to forget? Probably not. She was going to have to face this head-on if she ever hoped to move past it. Her hands trembled as she placed them in her lap.

She glanced at the detective and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”

THREE

Madison’s fingers twisted the white blanket covering her. Her nails dug into the threads with enough force that the fabric separated and her fingertips scraped her legs. She twisted the blanket over and over as she tried to get a handle on her thoughts.

The detective stood at her bedside, his green eyes, framed with thick lashes, looking at her intently. Each muscle in his body looked rigid as he stood poised to take notes on what she told him. If not for the flash of compassion she saw in the depths of his gaze every once in a while, she might feel intimidated.

She had to get this over with. Share her story, do her part, then pick up her son and try to resume normal life.

She’d learned how to make a new “normal” after her husband had died. She knew she could do it again. She had to. With Lincoln, she didn’t have much choice. Sitting around and feeling sorry for herself wasn’t an option if she wanted her son to have a happy childhood.

“Ma’am?” The detective’s voice sounded soft but urgent.

Her gaze met the detective’s again. She licked her lips and nodded, forcing herself to relax her hand against the blanket. “Sorry. I don’t know where to start.”

“Not to sound like I’m speaking in clichés, but just start at the beginning.”

“The beginning.” She sucked in a deep breath and noted that even her lungs ached for some reason. “I guess it all started when I walked in from dropping my son off at preschool. As soon as I stepped inside my house I heard something ticking.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like a bomb?”

She shook her head and immediately regretted it as the room began spinning again. She closed her eyes until regaining her equilibrium. “It was one of those little plastic timers people use in the kitchen. Not the digital kind…the old-fashioned kind. I thought my son had left it on. I found the timer in the bathroom, turned it off and tossed it in a drawer. After my shower, I heard it ticking again. When I went into the bathroom to turn it off, I spotted a man waiting for me.” She pulled in a shaky breath, but the air didn’t fill her lungs. She sucked in more breaths as fear threatened to overtake her.

“You okay?”

The image of the man hiding in her shower flashed into her mind and her body began trembling uncontrollably. Trying to stop the tremors was useless, so she pushed forward, knowing she had no other choice. “He put a knife to my throat. Before I could even react, he injected something into my arm. I got drowsy right away.” She rubbed her arm, her fingers still shaking. She could still feel the sting of the needle and the burn of the injection.

Detective Philips placed his hand over hers, bringing her back to reality. The jolt of electricity she felt at his touch shocked her, and she drew back.

His hand moved to the bed railing. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can get the doctor in here.”

“I’m fine. It…it just seems surreal.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “He told me to go into my office. I did. At my desk, he dictated a note to me. Said he’d kill me and my son if I didn’t write it. So I did.”

“Did he recite the note as if he’d rehearsed it? Or did he wing it?”

She closed her eyes, everything still so vivid. “He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and read it to me. He was very precise on what I should say. I couldn’t miss a word.”

“What happened next?”

“As soon as I signed my name to the note, he dragged me into my bedroom, reached under my bed and pulled out a rope. He must have planted the noose there when I was out.” She shuddered at the thought of someone watching her house, knowing her routine and using it to plan his crime.

“You’re doing great, Madison.”

His encouragement gave her the strength to keep going when she’d like nothing more than to stop. The next few minutes had been horrific. She’d been certain her life would end. “He made me tie the rope to the fan. He already had it looped up. Everything was planned and ready…” Her voiced cracked.

“Do you need to take a break?”

“No. I just want to finish.” Her throat suddenly felt dry. The emotions from the event rushed back to her, but she fought them. “I realized he was going to kill me,” she croaked out. “Whatever he injected into me made me feel like with each movement I made I was swimming through gelatin. I kept thinking of Lincoln.” Her voice caught and she grabbed a tissue to dab her eyes.

“He seems like a great boy.”

She nodded. “Yes, he is. I knew I had to fight this man, that once I had that rope around my neck my chances of surviving would diminish. I elbowed the man in the nose. He threw me into my dresser. I hit my head and everything really started to spin.”

“It was obvious you put up a good fight. You probably didn’t stand a chance since he drugged you.”

“What did he give me?” she asked.

“We’re still doing a tox screen now. We’ll know soon.”

She sucked in a breath, wanting to block out the memories, but knowing she couldn’t. The sound of the man’s voice, the feel of his gloved hands grabbing her wrists, the image of his glistening knife all flashed back.

“I didn’t have much energy after that. He grabbed me, wrapped the noose around my neck and put that stool under me just to taunt me. My feet could barely touch it, just enough to suck in a breath every once in a while. Plus the drugs were knocking me out. It was just a matter of time. I knew I was dead.”

“What did the man do next?”

“I heard a crash from the front of the house. It must have been you. The man ran to the bathroom. Must have jumped out the window.” She wiped the tears from her eyes again. “Have I said thank you enough?”

“I’m glad I was jogging when I was.”

“You’re a godsend.”

“No one’s ever said that God sent me before. Usually the opposite.” He smiled mischievously.

“I don’t know about that.”

His smile disappeared. “Madison, think about this carefully. When the man ran, did he look panicked?”

She thought about it a moment. “Not really. He seemed relatively calm. Of course, I was fighting for my life, so I wasn’t paying as much attention to him at that point. Is that really important, detective?”

“It gives me insight into the man’s mindset. Every detail helps.” Brody met her eyes. “You have no idea who this man was, do you? No enemies or anyone who would want to harm you?”

She shook her head. “No, not that I know of.”

He shifted his weight to his other foot. “Tell me about this timer.”

“There’s not much to say about it. My attacker seemed to be taunting me with it. At first I assumed the ticking was coming from one of my son’s toys or that Lincoln had been playing with the timer and left it on. I knew deep down when I heard the ticking the second time that something was wrong.”

Brody started to ask another question when the doctor burst into the room. “Detective, I don’t recall giving you permission to come in here.” The doctor scowled at Brody as he walked briskly to Madison’s bedside.

“I dropped something and he came in to help,” Madison jumped in, feeling a strange need to defend the man who, up until today, had seemed opposed to even giving a neighborly hello. “He did nothing wrong.”

The doctor didn’t look convinced as he stared at Brody through his wire-framed glasses and tapped his finger impatiently against a clipboard. “I need a moment to examine my patient.”

Brody nodded and looked back at Madison. “Thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch. And if you think of anything in the meantime…”

“I know where to find you.”

With another clipped nod, he left the room. Madison immediately missed his presence. Something about just having him in the room made her feel safer, as if everything would somehow work out. That same chill from earlier returned and she again faced the situation…alone.

* * *

Something about what Madison told him nagged at Brody. As he left her hospital room, he mentally replayed the conversation with her, trying to pinpoint whatever it was that seemed to be clamoring at him to take notice. Whatever it was remained on the edge of his rationing, taunting him.

Brody waited in the hospital hallway until a deputy showed up to guard the door to Madison’s room before he went home to shower and dress. Most likely the killer wouldn’t be foolish enough to come to the hospital and finish what he’d started, but Brody wanted to be safe. Until they had a profile of this man, he’d take every precaution necessary.

He needed to get to the station and talk to the sheriff, but first he needed to change out of his shorts and T-shirt. He gripped the steering wheel of his sedan as he turned off the highway and onto a more rural road leading toward his home. The glaring sun, unhindered by his visor, only further served to agitate him. What was it about Madison’s story that nagged at him?

As he pulled into his driveway, he saw that the emergency crew was gone from Madison’s. Looking at her home now, one would never have guessed the tragedy that had almost transpired there. Inside would certainly be a different story. He intended on reviewing the evidence inside her home himself after he checked in with the sheriff.

He quickly showered and changed into khakis and a blue, button-up shirt. Twenty minutes later he arrived at the neat, two-story station, his car crunching the gravel in the parking lot. As he looked at the brick-fronted building, he shook his head. What a change this place was compared to the precinct he worked at in Brooklyn.

“The sheriff in yet?” he asked Miranda, the deputy working the front desk.

She glanced up over the red frames perched on her nose. “Not yet. They’re finishing up that accident on the highway. Should be back anytime now.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing a cup of stale coffee on the way past.

He nodded an aloof greeting to his colleagues before reaching his office. Once in his well-used swivel chair, he stared at his desk a moment. Where to start on this one? With typing up the police report, he supposed. Then he’d have to check in with the crime-scene crew to see what they’d found. Hopefully any additional evidence hadn’t been trampled.

Halfway through typing his report, he stopped. There’d been two other suicides in York County in the past few months. York County wasn’t a huge place. What was the probability that the area had had two suicides within a four-month period?

He wanted to look through those files again. They’d seemed open-and-closed enough at the time. But what if there was more to those cases than they’d first assumed? Brody found the reports he needed and began reviewing the information.

The first suicide had happened in May. The man, Willie Fisher, was a mechanic. He worked for a local auto repair shop off Route 17, the main highway through York County. Two weeks before his death, Willie had been fired from his job for supposedly stealing money from the company. He’d claimed his innocence, but his reputation had taken a beating. He’d even gone to the doctor and been prescribed medicine for depression only three days before his life ended through carbon-monoxide poisoning.

The second suicide was a young sheriff’s deputy named Victor Hanson who’d died in June. He’d just graduated from the academy a year earlier and seemed to have a promising career within the department. His wife had left him prior to his death. Victor’s suicide note alluded to the pain of her rejection being too much to take. He’d taken a gun to his head.

Brody had actually bought his truck from Willie and he’d seen the man on occasion at the gym he frequented off Route 17. And, of course, he knew Victor from the Sheriff’s Department. Brody marveled how connected everyone was in a small town. This place was so much different than New York.

He stared at the reports. Was there something here that he was missing? Could these deaths have been more than suicides? Could those men have been murdered? And, if so, what was the tie between their murders and the attempted murder of Madison?

He couldn’t get the agonized look she’d had out of his mind. She’d handled the situation well and drawn from a deep strength within herself, one that impressed him. Even as she’d recalled the horrid details of what had happened, she’d seemed to have a peace about her. The woman, even in her battered state, was certainly beautiful. She was the type of woman who could turn heads and not even realize it. Petite and trim with blue eyes that matched the bay. Not that he’d noticed, he told himself.

“How’s Madison doing?” Sheriff Carl appeared behind him, his brow still damp with sweat from being in the stifling heat outside. Brody often marveled that Sheriff Carl looked exactly like Andy Griffith from his later years on the TV show Matlock.

Brody swiveled in his chair and decided not to mince words. “Sheriff, this wasn’t a suicide like we first assumed. Madison said a man attacked her and forced her to write that suicide note before attempting to murder her.”

The sheriff’s eyes widened, as if in shock, before he slowly nodded. “I knew she wasn’t capable of suicide, especially not with that boy of hers. He means everything to her. She wouldn’t leave him.”

“This crime was calculated, Sheriff. Every last detail was planned, all the way down to using her egg timer to count down the minutes until he attacked her. He had a suicide note already written and the noose stocked under her bed. The only thing he didn’t plan on was that I’d be jogging and hear Madison scream.”

Sheriff Carl, a man whom Brody had come to respect because of his even temperament and measured wisdom, nodded again, obviously soaking in all of the information Brody threw at him.

“Do you usually jog at the same time every day?”

“No, sir. I usually jog as the sun comes up. But since today was officially my day off, I decided to sleep in.” Not to mention that he couldn’t sleep last night because he’d had nightmares of Lindsey, about his old life back in New York. And like every nightmare he’d beaten himself up through, the ending was always the same. He’d woken up covered in sweat, laden with guilt and uncertain of his ability to ever change into a better man.

“So your routine was off. The suspect was probably counting on you jogging this morning as you always do.”

“Sounds accurate to me.”

“Madison’s a sweet girl. I hate to think of her going through this. Her husband was a good man, a true patriot. For someone to target a widow with a young child is just beyond me. Of course, sometimes I think this whole world has gone mad.”

“Sometimes it feels like it has, sir.”

Sheriff Carl glanced at the papers and files covering Brody’s desk. “What are you looking at?”

“Those other two suicides we’ve had here in York County recently.”

“You think there’s a connection?”

“I need to investigate the cases, Sheriff. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“You’ve got a good instinct. Go with it. I have to say, I hope you’re wrong. If you’re not, that means there’s a serial killer on the loose here in York County.” He sighed heavily. “The whole county will go crazy if that leaks out. Let’s not say anything until we know for sure.”

“Got it.”

Brody couldn’t help but think that maybe the whole county should be going crazy. Until this man was caught, no one was safe.

Especially not Madison.

FOUR

A sheriff’s deputy drove Madison to Kayla’s house. Madison was forever grateful to Bonnie, Sheriff Carl’s wife, who brought her some clean clothes and a few toiletries. The last thing Madison had wanted was for Lincoln to see her in her previous state: torn shirt, disheveled hair, busted lip. He’d already been through enough. No need to traumatize him further.

She sat silently in the front seat as the rookie deputy rolled down the quiet streets toward Seaford. How could such an attack have happened in such a peaceful little fishing community? She’d always felt safe here. It was against her instincts to leave her doors unlocked, but she knew people who did and she understood their reasoning. The worst crime that usually happened here was a drunk driver or a brawl between neighbors. Nothing like what had happened to her today. As soon as the news media found out it wasn’t an attempted suicide, they’d be on the story like a crab on seaweed. The fact that she freelanced for the newspaper wouldn’t give her any immunity.

“Can I stop and get you anything, ma’am?” Deputy Young asked kindly.

She shook her head. “No, I just want to see my son. Thank you, though.” She twisted the tissue in her hand until it ripped. Looking at her lap and the evidence of her anguished thoughts, she collected the scraps of tissue and stuffed the pieces into her pocket.

Her thoughts drifted to Brody. She wished he was with her now instead of the fresh-faced deputy. There was something she’d found comforting today about the man and his demeanor.

She wondered about the torment she’d briefly seen on his face as she’d recounted the details of her attack. She’d thought, just for a moment, that she’d seen something very raw flash through his gaze. The grueling emotions she’d spotted seemed to be deeper than those of a compassionate detective. What about her attack made him look regretful?

The man had a heart. She shouldn’t be surprised. Kayla—his cousin and Lincoln’s teacher—had expressed that much, saying that Madison shouldn’t let his aloofness bother her. She’d insisted he was going through some stuff that had left him in a bit of an identity crisis. Ignoring his typical blatant disregard of her was easier said than done, however. But now this new side of him emerged, and Madison didn’t know what to think about Brody Philips.

Finally the car pulled to a stop in front of Kayla’s bungalow, a small yellow house that sat on a stretch of other similar houses on a lone country road. The deputy started to walk her to the door, but Madison politely declined. Before she made it even halfway up the sidewalk, the front door flew open and little blond haired Lincoln ran out to greet her. With his trim, lean frame and blue eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. The feel of his sticky hands around her neck made her forget everything else, even the searing pain that ripped through her ribs.

He pulled his head back and looked at her from only four inches away. “Mommy, where were you? I thought we were going to the playground today.”

The playground. She’d totally forgotten about her promise to him. “We’ll go this week. I promise. Mommy had a little…accident and isn’t feeling very well.”

Her son studied her face with a frown. “Did you catch a germ?”

Madison smiled. “Not quite. Don’t you worry, though. I’m doing much better now that I’m with you.”

Kayla smiled from the doorway. As Madison carried Lincoln up the steps, she waved at the deputy and he drove away. Kayla extended her arm behind her, welcoming Madison inside. Still holding Lincoln, Madison stepped into the cool living room, grateful to get out of the smothering heat.

Kayla closed the door and offered a warm smile. “I made some Boatman’s Stew, in case you’re hungry. Lincoln already had some pizza. I hope that’s okay.”

Madison nodded and touched her throat. “Of course.” When would this stop feeling so surreal? Images continually flashed back into her mind, making her feel like she could hardly breathe.

“Mom, can I finish my video game?”

Madison nodded and the boy scrambled back to the TV, picked up a remote and began playing an alphabet game. Madison followed Kayla’s lead and settled on the couch, unsure of what to do with herself.

Madison looked at the petite woman across from her. Kayla was probably only a few years younger than Madison and had a square face, a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks, and lovely, thick auburn hair. “How’s Lincoln been?”

“He’s been great. He’s asked a lot of questions, but really he’s such an easygoing kid. I didn’t tell him anything. I figured you’d want to handle that.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done,” Madison said.

“I just…I just can’t believe something like this would happen here…and to you.” Kayla shook her head. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

“I’m still in a state of disbelief myself.”

A knock sounded at the door. Kayla disappeared and a moment later Madison heard a deep voice echoing from the front door. Her heart sped slightly when she realized it was Brody. She scolded herself for the reaction.

He’d saved her life. Of course she might have the man at hero status for now. It wouldn’t last long. Soon he’d return to being her grouchy neighbor and she’d resume her routine as a single working mom. The only reason he showed so much concern now was because of his job—he had no choice but to be kind.

She rose, rubbing her hands against her jeans, as his broad form filled the doorway. “Brody.”

He nodded toward her, his posture stiff and professional. “Madison. I just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

“Kayla’s been a lifesaver.” She glanced back at Lincoln, who still played a video game, oblivious to anything that had happened. “We’re all hanging in, doing as well as can be expected.”

His eyes caught hers, and he seemed to search her gaze for evidence of truth in her words. She looked away, afraid he’d seen her fear and exhaustion.

He seemed to take the hint as the warmth left his eyes and an aloof professionalism replaced it. “I wanted to let you know that the crime scene has been cleared. You’re free to return home whenever you’re ready.”

Kayla placed her hand on Madison’s arm. Compassionate eyes met hers. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”

Madison nodded, relief filling her. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face her house yet. Though Bonnie had also offered them the chance to stay at her place, Madison knew that Bonnie’s ailing mother also lived there. Madison didn’t want to place any more pressure on the woman. Kayla’s place would be perfect, though, especially since Lincoln already felt at home here. “I appreciate it. I think I’ll go back to my house tomorrow after Lincoln is at school and try to straighten up. I don’t want him to see it in its current state.” The noose wrapped around the fan flashed into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase the image.

A firm hand came down on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw that Brody had closed the distance between them. The warmth returned to his gaze.

“That’s probably a good idea.” His voice sounded kind and assuring. Her racing thoughts slowed. “How about if I pick you up in the morning to help out? You’re going to need a new front door. I’d be happy to help replace it, especially since I was the one who knocked it down.”

Madison felt her eyes widen against her will. Was this the same man who’d given her the cold shoulder since he’d moved in? Again she reminded herself that he was just doing his job—though fixing her door probably wasn’t written out explicitly in his work description. “I don’t want you to go out of your way…”

“I don’t mind.”

She swallowed, her throat dry. “Thank you, then. That would be a huge help.”

His hand dropped from her shoulder and she instantly missed it. Was she this desperate for someone to help take care of her? She’d never thought of herself as a needy woman. Instead, she’d thought she’d been strong and independent. Based on her reactions to Brody today, maybe she was wrong.

Brody gave her a tight smile before nodding at Kayla. “Good night, then. Call me if you need anything. And lock your doors tonight.”

Madison shuddered. Did locked doors even keep people safe? Today had proved otherwise.

* * *

As Brody drove home, he wondered why he’d volunteered to spend more time than necessary with Madison. He told himself it was because she might remember more details about her attacker and Brody wanted to be there when she did. He even told himself that it was his job to keep her safe, although in actuality his job was to solve the crime more than act as bodyguard.

Brody knew there was more to his offer. He’d known from the moment he set eyes on the pretty blonde that she was the type of woman it would be easy to fall for. If he was smart, he’d still keep her at a distance. He’d let her find someone from church or work who could help her with the door. He’d interact with her only enough to get the answers he needed, he decided as he pulled up in front of his house.

But if he didn’t help her pick up in the aftermath of the attack, who would? The woman seemed so busy that he rarely saw her take time for social visits at her home. Not that he was paying attention to who came and went.

He glanced over at her house, unusually silent and dark without Madison and Lincoln inside. Okay, maybe sometimes he did pay attention to what went on at his neighbor’s. He couldn’t help it. Anyone coming or going did have to pass his home first since the street dead ended past her house.

Keep your distance, he warned himself again.

He let himself into his quiet home, one so very different from his apartment in Brooklyn. He’d never dreamed he’d be in a place like Seaford or that he’d enjoy the small town as he did. Still, he didn’t plan on being here forever. It was better if he didn’t get to know his neighbor—or anybody else, for that matter—too well.

The last thing he wanted to do was to ruin someone else’s life. He already had a long enough of list of people whose lives he’d messed up. Especially Lindsey…

Just the thought of her made a heaviness settle over him. It happened every time she crossed his mind. He’d never forgive himself for his past mistakes. Never. Yet here he was thinking about his pretty neighbor.

That settled it. Tomorrow he would do as he’d promised and fix her door. But after that he’d do his job and nothing more.

* * *

Madison shook off her chills as she stood on the front porch of Kayla’s house the next morning. The August heat felt stifling, yet still she shivered. Her gaze traveled from side to side again, searching the shrubs decorating Kayla’s flower beds. It would be a while before she stopped looking around every corner for an intruder. Experiences—traumas—like yesterday would take months, maybe years, to get past. Or would she ever get past it? She shook her head. Of course she would. With a little bit of trust in God she could overcome anything, even this enormous mountain before her.

Kayla had left thirty minutes ago for work at the preschool and had taken Lincoln with her. Brody had told Madison he’d pick her up this morning and go with her into her home. She was incredibly grateful for his support. The idea of facing her home alone made her stomach roil. Even if it was just Brody and if he was just doing his job, having him there would ease her apprehension some. She’d take whatever she could get.

She swatted away a gnat and glanced at her watch again. She still had five minutes until he arrived. Five long minutes. She looked around the porch once more, making sure she hadn’t missed any creepy indications that she should be on guard. Nothing. She should feel relieved. Why didn’t she?

Madison had stayed inside Kayla’s home for the first twenty minutes after her gracious hostess had left for work. But every creak and groan of the house had made her practically jump out of her skin. She’d decided that being out here on the wide, open porch would allow her to feel safer.

But would she ever feel safe again? Why did that question continually come back to her? Why couldn’t her logic and emotions work hand in hand? Instead, they often seemed at odds with each other.

She shook her head, which started to ache. She had to put those thoughts out of her mind. Life was going on and for Lincoln’s sake she had to keep up. There was no time to feel sorry for herself.

A truck coming down the road caught her attention. She straightened, held her breath a moment. Brody? Why did the thought of seeing him cause a tingle of excitement to race up her spine? She scolded herself for even feeling anything. She had so much to worry about already. She had no room in her life for romance.

Brody’s broad frame filled the government-issued vehicle. In a few minutes, that same imposing frame would help her to feel protected when she ventured back through the scene of her attack.

The truck pulled to a stop at the end of Kayla’s driveway, and Brody stepped out. A tense smile greeted her. She didn’t wait for Brody to reach the porch. She started toward him, ready to get this over with.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

She only glanced at him long enough to nod her hello. “Good morning, Brody.”

He opened the passenger-side door for her and waited for her to slide in. Once seated and buckled in, Madison scrutinized the interior of the vehicle. It was everything she’d expected from Brody—orderly, neat and without any bells or whistles.

He slid in beside her a moment later and the scent of spearmint filled the vehicle. He wore a golf shirt and jeans. Not the typical attire she expected from a detective, but Madison knew he planned on helping at her home today.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Achy, tired, grateful. Everything you’d expect, I suppose.” She rubbed her neck, still remembering the feeling of the rope there. Her skin was still raw and bruised, and wouldn’t let her forget.

“It will get easier with time.”

“I know.” She sighed and pulled her arms across her chest as they cruised down the road. “Any leads?”

“Not yet. But we’re looking at what happened from every angle.”

“I can’t believe that monster is still out there.” She shivered again. “When he finds out I survived, do you think he’ll…?” The rest of the words wouldn’t leave her lips. She didn’t want to say them aloud. Couldn’t bear to.

Brody glanced over at her and something flickered in his eyes. What was it? Fear for her safety? The realization that Madison couldn’t avoid the truth? The thought that she was simply paranoid, perhaps in shock after yesterday’s events?

“He’d be foolish to come back,” Brody finally said.

Madison noticed he didn’t say that her would-be killer wouldn’t come back, though. Her head throbbed.

“You okay?”

She nodded and stared out the window. The thought of her attacker coming back to finish what he’d started made panic churn in her gut and rip apart every shred of peace she tried to hold on to. Her hands began to shake, tears welled in her eyes and images from yesterday began playing rapid fire in her head.

A hand clamped down on her knee. “Hey.”

Madison swung her head toward the voice. Brody. Just Brody.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you, make sure you stay safe. It’s going to be okay.”

“I wish I felt so certain.” What about Lincoln? What if the man came back and tried to harm her son? She couldn’t bear the thought of it. Perhaps she should simply take Lincoln and go somewhere, anywhere. Maybe down to see her parents in Florida? On that vacation to the Bahamas that she’d been dreaming about?

Vacation was out. She barely had money to pay her bills. Not to mention she’d be getting another bill—a hospital bill—soon. Though her insurance would pay for most of it, how much would her portion be? How would she ever pay for that?

She could stay with her parents, but her dad had a heart condition. If he found out what had happened, his blood pressure might rise and trigger more problems with his heart. She could never live with herself if she caused something to happen to her dad.

“We’ll catch him, Madison.” Brody’s voice sounded confident, reassuring. It was as if he could read her mind.

Just then they pulled up to her house.

With each step she took toward her backdoor, nausea rumbled in her gut. Could she face this nightmare again? She swallowed as they stepped inside, trying to stay strong. Brody led her to the foyer.

Madison grabbed the wall as the room began to sway. Or was that her swaying? She couldn’t be sure. Perhaps she should have asked a friend to be here with her, to help her walk through this.

Instead, Brody stood at her side, and he looked as if he’d rather be waiting in line at the DMV than walking through her emotions with her.

A huge piece of plywood was nailed where the front door used to be. Now that she stood in the place where her nightmare had begun, she soaked in all the details. Splintered, cracked wood littered the tile floor in front of her while exposed timber gaped at the door jamb. There were her keys on the table, just where she’d left them. Who knew the nightmare that she was about to encounter when she’d deposited her keys there and gone to get dressed for the day. The act had seemed so simple and ordinary, but right now, as she looked at those keys, she remembered again how quickly life could change.

Yesterday flashed into her mind. She’d been in such a hurry to make her photography appointments. She remembered the sound of ticking. She halfway expected to hear it again. But all was quiet. So quiet she could hear her heartbeat.

“It’s too soon for you, isn’t it? I should have told you to stay away for a while.”

“I have to face the house sometime. It might as well be today.” If only she felt as confident as her words sounded. Her body betrayed her and sagged against the wall.

Brody’s hand cupped her elbow. “Anytime you want to stop, you just let me know.”

She nodded. “Do you know how he got in yet? I always lock the house up.”

“There’s no evidence of forced entry, no jimmy marks on the windows or doors, no broken screens or locks. Is there anywhere someone might have gotten a copy of your house key?”

She shook her head. “I keep one on my key ring and one hidden in my car.” She’d used the one in her car to get inside her home today—it had still been just where she’d left it. So apparently her attacker was a phantom who could creep through walls. The thought didn’t comfort her.

“Do you always leave your car unlocked, like it was today?”

Heat filled her cheeks. Locking her home seemed safe and logical, but she never even thought twice about leaving her car unlocked. “I do.”

“Nobody else has a copy of the house key? A boyfriend or relative maybe?”

“My parents don’t live in the area and I have no time for a boyfriend, so, no.” Her words reminded her of how much life had changed in the past three years. Her parents had decided to retire and move to Florida six months before her husband had died in an auto accident. Suddenly, there was no one. Just her and Lincoln. Life had gone from being full of love and family to being a struggle.

“How about if we take a break? We’ll go into town and get you a new door. We’ll get the entire foyer cleaned up before we tackle anything else.”

Madison nodded, grateful for his suggestion because she was beginning to feel suffocated in her own home.