Lethal Legacy. Carol J. Post
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contacted a Realtor, and her parents’ seven-thousand-square-foot spread was going on the market next week.
This one was harder to let go. It had been in her dad’s family for three generations. Four, if she counted her own.
After shutting the last drawer, she picked up her toiletry case and headed for the bathroom. As she stepped into the hall, something moved in her peripheral vision. She snapped her gaze in that direction.
A huge man barreled toward her. Except for two eyeholes, a knit mask hid his face. He slammed into her, knocking her hard against the wall. Her head hit the doorjamb. Pain shot through her temple and stars exploded across her vision.
Another figure ran past, this one much smaller. As retreating footsteps grew softer, blackness encroached. She gripped the jamb, willing herself to remain conscious, but strength drained from her limbs. She slid to the floor, landing on her hands and knees.
The front door creaked open but didn’t slam shut. They’d left it ajar. She needed to secure the house. And she needed to call the police. The front door seemed miles away. The bedroom was just across the hall, and her purse was on the bed. If she could crawl there...
She moved her right knee forward, followed by her right hand. The darkness spread, seeping in from all sides. The walls tipped ninety degrees, and the cold floor met her right side.
She lifted one lead-filled arm, trying to grasp the last threads of consciousness.
Her hand fell.
And even that small circle of light faded and disappeared.
* * *
Bryce Caldwell flipped on the cruiser’s right signal and made his turn onto Ranger Road. As he accelerated up the steep incline, his headlights spilled over the tombstones dotting the landscape. The street cut right through Ranger United Methodist’s cemetery.
He rounded a series of curves, following Ranger as it snaked its way upward. His gaze shifted left, the same as it always did. Since night had fallen some time ago, there was nothing to see. But that didn’t stop him from looking. He’d been doing it as long as he could remember.
Many years ago, his reasons had been romantic. Now they were entirely practical. His neighbor spent most of his time in Atlanta and had asked him to keep an eye on the place.
Bryce tapped the brakes. Lights were on at the old house, and a vehicle was parked out front. There wasn’t enough light to identify the make, but it was too large to be Dennis Wheaton’s Mercedes.
He pulled into his own driveway a couple hundred yards down. As he approached his house, a black face nudged aside the vertical blinds hanging at the living room window. Cooper greeted him with a single bark. The dog would have to wait a few minutes longer. Since lights were on next door, the visitor was likely there with Wheaton’s knowledge and permission. But it would take only a few minutes to check.
He turned around and retraced his route. As he crept up the drive next door, his jaw tightened. The front door was wide-open, and no one was outside. He stopped behind the vehicle, a newer Cadillac Escalade, and stepped from the cruiser.
“Hello?”
Silence met his call. He moved past the SUV, and a chilly gust swept through, sending the leaves at his feet into a frantic dance. When he stepped onto the porch, he called again. Still silence. Who would leave the front door open and not be somewhere nearby?
“Hello?” Now he was at the doorway, half in and half out. “Anybody home?”
A moan came from the hallway. His senses shot to full alert, and he drew his weapon. When he stepped into the hall, a woman was working her way onto her hands and knees. Strawberry blond hair had fallen forward to hide her face.
He rushed toward her, still scanning the area. He wasn’t about to let down his guard.
“Are you alone?”
She lifted her head. Blue eyes met his, sending a jolt all the way to his toes. Andi. Years fell away, each one a punch to his gut. She’d left just before he started college, after he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. And she’d managed to stay away for twelve long years.
Her gaze slid from his face, down his uniform and back up again. Instead of recognition, her eyes held confusion. “Did I call? I didn’t think I...” She sat back, one leg curled beneath her, the other in front. “I tried, but...” She fell silent, shaking her head.
He knelt in front of her. “Tell me what happened.”
“Someone was inside, knocked me into the doorjamb.” She pressed a palm to her left temple. “I hit my head.”
Her assailant must have run out the front, leaving the door wide-open. Bryce slid his pistol back into its holster. “He’s probably gone, but we need to call it in.”
The furrows between her brows deepened. “Who are you?”
Bryce Caldwell. It was right on the tip of his tongue. But considering how they’d parted, he’d better save specifics for later. “I’m with Cherokee County, but I’m not on duty. I just happened to be driving by. We’ll get this reported officially. Then you need to go to the hospital and get checked out.”
“I’m fine.” She gripped the bedroom doorjamb and pulled herself to her feet. Even holding on, she swayed. If she thought standing would convince him she didn’t need medical attention, she was sadly mistaken.
“You probably have a concussion. You need to be seen.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got too much to do to spend several hours in a hospital emergency room.”
He frowned. If she let go of that wall, she’d be flat on her face. But it was no use arguing. She’d developed a stubborn streak that hadn’t been there before.
“Let me at least get you to the couch. You need to sit before you fall down.”
When she took the hand he offered, he led her into the living room, where the sofa, love seat and recliner formed a U-shape around a stone fireplace. He and Andi had spent countless winter weekends sitting on that hearth, roasting s’mores.
After he’d seated her on the love seat, he pulled out his phone. One bar. He wasn’t surprised. He always lost service at the bridge shortly before turning onto Ranger, and then didn’t pick it up again until somewhere between the Wheaton property and his own.
Without touching the open door, he stepped onto the porch for a clearer signal. When he introduced himself to the dispatcher, he smiled at the sharp intake of air behind him.
He wasn’t surprised she didn’t recognize him. Even if she hadn’t conked her head, it wouldn’t have been easy. Through his teen years, he’d been tall and lanky and had worn his hair on the long side. Now it could almost be classified as a buzz cut. Though he was still six-two, he’d packed on fifty pounds of muscle since his teenage years.
Once finished with dispatch, he sat on the couch opposite her. “Do you know who accosted you?”
“No. They were both wearing ski masks.”
“Both?”
“After the larger guy hit me, another one ran out behind him.”
He nodded. The confusion she’d displayed earlier had left, and stiffness had settled in, leaving the air thick with tension. Maybe she’d stay long enough for him to try to rebuild some bridges. Probably not. He didn’t even know why she’d come. But it wasn’t important. There were more pressing matters.
Bryce glanced around the room. “Any idea what they were after?”
Nothing appeared disturbed. Of course, the house had never held the usual items that attracted thieves. Other than a telescope that had been top-of-the-line twenty years ago, there wasn’t any equipment, electronic or otherwise. As far as he knew, the Wheatons had never had TVs or computers.
That wasn’t