“There’s no need to get cheeky.” My father’s admonishment lacked heat as it traveled across the phone line. The echo in the background confirmed my parents were using their speaker phone feature. “Besides, it’s been more than sixty minutes. You called to tell us about the murder Saturday. That was three days ago.”
A jazz instrumental played faintly in the background, providing a soundtrack to our conversation.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I was—”
“We’re your parents.” My mother bowled over my words again. “We have the right to worry.”
“Of course, Mom. I understand.” And I loved them for it, even as I wished they weren’t so concerned.
Angry car horns carried through the speaker phone. Had someone double-parked down their street again? “I don’t have—”
This time, my dad interrupted me. “We’ve been following the case through The Peach Coast Crier.”
Had I heard them correctly? “You’ve been reading the Crier?”
“We bought an online subscription.” My mother sounded like subscribing to the small town’s newspaper was completely normal. To her, it probably was.
“Okay, Mom and Dad.” I rose from my desk chair to pace my office. “I really appreciate your calling to check on me, but let’s take a breath.”
I pictured them sitting together in their warm gold and pale brown foyer. The room was in the front of their two-hundred-plus-year-old home. There were windows on two sides of the room, which during the day flooded the space with light.
“How can we take a breath?” Beneath my mother’s tense question, a siren blared. Briefly, I wondered whether it was an ambulance. It didn’t sound like a police car or a fire truck. “How can we relax when our daughter’s in danger? There’s a murderer running around loose in your town.”
Seriously? “There are murderers running around loose in Brooklyn.” My tone was dry.
“The difference is you were minutes away from us when you lived in Brooklyn.” Dad sounded defensive. “Now you’re several hours and hundreds of miles away. It wouldn’t be as easy or quick to jump in the car and go to you if you need us.”
I acknowledged his point. “About thirteen hours and thirty-five minutes. It’s a nine-hundred-seven-point-four-mile trip approximately.”
“That’s our point,” Mom said. “We thought you’d be safer in a small town. Maybe we were wrong. The odds may be that you’re less safe in a town of fewer than one thousand people versus a borough with more than two-and-a-half-million residents.”
How many more times would we have the “personal safety” discussion?
Shaking my head, I scooped up Phoenix and carried him back down to our living room. The wood flooring was warm beneath my bare feet. The sun had set hours ago. I lowered him to the floor and returned my attention to my parents.
“I wish you wouldn’t worry. As soon as the deputies know more about the murder and the investigation, I promise to call you.” This wouldn’t be a good time to tell my parents that I also was working on the case. In fact, there probably would never be a good time to share that with them.
Mom’s voice was tight with anxiety. “You have to promise us you’ll be very careful.”
“I promise.” More guilt. “And I do have the home security system with motion-sensing lights outside. Phoenix and I will be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Has Phoenix gotten used to the new place yet?” Dad asked.
I glanced toward the foyer. My cat had once again settled in front of the French doors. “Not yet. He’s being very quiet, almost lethargic. He’s just not himself. The first vet said this was normal, but I don’t know. I have an appointment in three days with a new vet for a second opinion.”
After a few more minutes of chatting with my parents, I wished them both a good night. Collecting Phoenix and his bed from beside the backdoor, I carried both upstairs. “Let’s see if it helps you to sleep in my room.”
Phoenix looked at me, then looked away. I sensed an eye roll in his response. At least he was responding.
Chapter 15
Suddenly, I was wide awake. Why? The clock read two in the morning. What had awakened me? I lay still and scanned my bedroom. Every visible surface. Every shadowed corner. Nothing. I was alone. Well, except for Phoenix who, forsaking his bed, lay snoring softly on the pillow beside me.
What had—
There it was!
The motion sensor flooded my backyard with light. Someone was sneaking around outside my home. My blood turned to ice. My heart sprang into my throat. And stayed there. For a second, I was too afraid to breathe, too afraid to move.
And then I couldn’t move fast enough.
I scooped Phoenix from the spare pillow and scrambled out of bed. Startled awake, he drove his claws into my chest. I ignored the pain as I crept to the bedroom’s rear windows. I felt bad for scaring him, but I needed to keep him close. I needed to keep him safe.
What if someone was trying to break in?
I peeked through the cream venetian blinds. My backyard seemed empty. I froze, straining to listen. No unidentifiable movements. Then the lights at the left side yard came on. Through the rear windows, I could see the lights illuminating the lawn.
When the rear lights came back on, I tightened my grip on Phoenix. Was the trespasser circling my house? Why? What did they want? My cat squirmed in my arms. Could he hear my heart racing? I kissed the top of his head and murmured nonsense, trying to calm him. Trying to calm myself.
I crept toward my front windows. Along the way, I grabbed my cell phone. With my right thumb, I dialed emergency services. I pressed Phoenix to my heart with my left.
“Nine one one. What’s your emergency?” The dispatcher sounded so loud.
“I think someone’s trying to get into my house.” I peeked out my front windows. I gasped as the motion-sensor lights blinked on.
Someone was there. Where? In
