Threat Of Darkness. Valerie Hansen
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whole family. He’s not a bad kid at heart.”
“He’s an addict who probably sells the stuff to innocent little kids to support his habit. Is that the way you want to take care of the children in Serenity?”
“Of course not. I was planning to talk to Bobby’s folks but I wanted to wait and see what the actual charges were before I said anything, that’s all. This whole drug-conspiracy idea might be nothing more than a big misunderstanding.”
“Even if it is, there’s still somebody out to get you, Sam. All the good intentions in the world won’t protect you from evil if you don’t use your head.”
“Humph. I thought you believed in God taking care of His own.”
“I do. But I also know He gave us brains and expects us to think with them. I may be a Christian but I still put bullets in my gun. It would be idiotic not to.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point.”
She settled back against the seat as John started the truck and headed up the hill toward the old farmhouse. He was right, of course. It made perfect sense to use the capabilities each of them had been given. That was what she was doing when she volunteered through CASA. And that was the same thing John had been doing when he’d put himself in place to protect her.
That action wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was merely what he did. Who he was at heart. He would have done the exact same thing for anyone he felt was in danger.
Her conclusion about not being special to him was so obviously correct, it hurt.
* * *
First out of the truck, John trusted the other officers to have done their jobs so he didn’t order Sam to stay put. His opinion seemed to have little effect on her and the way he saw it, the less he tried to control her unnecessarily, the less they’d butt heads.
It didn’t surprise him that she was at his elbow when Walter showed him the tire tracks. John crouched. “They’re from an ATV, all right. There are probably hundreds just like this in Fulton County. You got pictures?”
“Yep. Measurements, too.” The grizzled, older man’s attitude clearly showed a chip on his shoulder. John understood. He’d returned to his former hometown with a degree in law enforcement and big-city experience that Chief Kelso had bragged of as an asset when he’d reintroduced him to the men he’d be working with. Given the fact that they had remained local and he was now viewed as an outsider, it was normal for them to feel a little put out.
“I’m sure you did everything by the book,” John assured him. “How about footprints?”
“It’s pretty dry and dusty. Not much to see.”
“Okay. We’ll put the dog out and let you in.”
“House is locked. I already tried the door.”
“Right.” He looked to Samantha. “You’ll need to open the door for us.”
Eyes widening, she stared at the porch. “Oh, no. My keys are still in the car. So is my purse.”
“Okay.” John rolled his eyes and sighed noisily. “Wait here with Glenn and Walter. I’ll be right back with your stuff.”
There was no way he would have considered leaving her at the farmhouse if she hadn’t had the companionship of veteran officers. They might look and act like good old boys most of the time but they were both plenty sharp. Sam would be safe with them, at least for the few minutes it would take him to retrieve her keys.
John made the trip down the hill quickly and easily. Stopping next to Samantha’s car he left his truck idling and stepped out. Everything looked the same as it had earlier.
He leaned in and reached around the car’s steering column, expecting to find the keys dangling from the ignition. That slot was empty. So where were her keys? Had Sam dropped them when she’d bolted?
Scowling, he squinted at the floor mats, then probed the slashes in the messy seat, finally scanning the bare ground outside the car. No keys. No purse, either. There was nothing left in Sam’s car but a worn, leather-covered Bible.
John straightened and carefully studied his surroundings. Had there been time for whoever had left the house on the ATV to have circled around and cleaned out the car? Maybe. Maybe not. It hardly mattered how many thieves were involved at this point. Someone had stolen everything except Sam’s Bible, including the keys to her house.
If the criminals came back, and John was positive they would, they could simply unlock her doors and walk in. Not only was Samantha in worse danger than before, it was at least partially his fault.
* * *
Samantha could tell from John’s closed expression and stiff body language upon his return that all was not well. The moment she saw him climb out of his truck and start toward her carrying her Bible, she assumed that that was the only thing he’d managed to retrieve.
“My purse?” she asked, trying not to sound as if she were making any kind of accusation.
“No sign of it. This was all there was left in the car,” he said, handing her the Bible. “I’m sorry. I should have made sure you had all your things with you before we came up here. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“I wasn’t, either.” The unshed tears that misted her vision were unacceptable. She blinked them away. “I’m sorry to cause all these problems.”
“It’s not like you went looking for trouble. At least not this time.”
Samantha was relieved to see a smile start to tease one side of his mouth when she said, “Thanks, I think.”
The more John’s expression softened, the easier it was for her to begin to smile at him—and at the other officers. “So, gentlemen, what do I do next?” She checked her watch. “I see we’re already too late for church.”
“Maybe we’ll take in the evening service,” John said. “Do you still hide a spare house key in the old barn?”
“Yes! I’d forgotten all about that. I’ll go get it.”
“No. I’ll go. You stay out here with Walt.”
“It’s on a nail, just inside the door to the left.” Samantha wasn’t about to argue with John this time. The notion of having her private space invaded so easily gave her the creeps. In mild weather she liked to throw open all the windows to let in fresh air. That practice was probably going to have to stop, at least temporarily. Moreover, she’d need new locks on her doors, not to mention doing something about changing the ignition, door and trunk locks in her car. This was getting complicated. And worse by the minute.
Returning with the single key, John unlocked the door and controlled Brutus’s exit so the other officers could enter the kitchen.
The mostly black dog bounded off the back porch and gamboled up to greet her. Just as delighted to see him, she bent to stroke his broad head and rusty-colored eyebrows, then ruffled his darker ears, speaking soft encouragements and enjoying the uncomplicated companionship while she bided her time.
“I am glad about one thing,” Samantha told John when he finally rejoined her. “They didn’t hurt Brutus. They could have. I let him out the front door this morning and if he’d realized someone strange was in the backyard he might have gone after them. No telling what they’d have done to him then.”
“Really? He was outside earlier?”
“Of course. No way was I going to leave for the morning without giving him a chance to go out first.”
“Just making sure.”
Judging by the way her old friend was scowling at her he had come to some conclusion. Since he didn’t seem inclined to share his thoughts she decided to probe for answers.
“Okay. I can see the wheels turning