“Yeah. Absolutely.” He grabbed their shoulders and steered them toward the back, and I silently thanked him.
I waited until they were out of earshot to speak. “So…” I kicked at the dirt, attempting nonchalance. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but Scott had a massive heart attack.”
“What?” I stilled, all the sounds around me becoming fuzzy. “When?”
“Last night.”
“What do you mean?” This didn’t make any sense. “I was with him last night.”
“Technically early morning, I guess.” He hooked his thumbs in his bulletproof vest.
“Where is he?” I headed for my truck, removing my work belt and tossing it on one of the benches. “Sunnyville General?” He shook his head. “Melville?”
Jesus, man. Spit it out.
“He, um—” He shifted. “I’m sorry, Ethan. He didn’t make it.”
“What?” I gasped. No. This couldn’t be right. It didn’t make sense. Sure, he’d had some chest pain last night, but it was indigestion. Not…oh shit. He was having a heart attack, and I could’ve helped him.
I sank to my knees, anguish filling my every bone, every breath. I tried to hold it together as my world fell apart. Scott had been like a father to me. He’d taken a troublesome and aggressive teen no one wanted and guided me to become the man I was today. Everything good in my life was due to him, and now…he was gone.
Chapter Three
“Stupid.” I gripped the suitcase handle, dragging it up another stair. “Freaking.” I lugged it up another. “House.” I huffed, having finally made it up to the porch. I smoothed down my skirt, straightened my shirt, then stared at the gold plate by the door.
Scott Monroe,Esquire.
The patina had fadedwith time, but the words were still clearly etched into the metal just as they’d always been. Nothing had changed, and yet, everything was different.
I climbed up on one of the patio chairs, reaching above the window to search with my fingers for the key. When the metal rattled against the wood, I smiled to myself and grabbed the key. I climbed down, slid it into the lock, and the door swung open with a groan, reflecting the age of the grand Victorian home.
I lifted my bag over the threshold, setting it carefully on the wood floor. The house was eerily quiet in the darkness of the night, and I shivered, more from being there than the cold. For a moment, I regretted not taking Emerson up on the offer to stay at her place or Desi’s—anywhere but here.
I ran my fingers along the top of the chair railing, feeling as if I’d stepped back in time. I hesitated at the threshold to the living room, knowing how my father had always loved reading in his chair by the original fireplace. And yet—the room was dark. The chair…empty, though his indentions remained. It was silly, really, expecting to see him there as he lived in my memory. He was gone, after all. But his spirit still inhabited the space. And it was easier to imagine that he’d stepped out to run an errand and would return at any moment, his voice booming through the hall.
I shook away the thought and headed for the stairs. Between the time difference and a day packed with travel and work, I was beat. I flicked on a light in the back, surprised by the gleaming stainless-steel appliances that met me in the kitchen. Guess he’d done some updating in the years since I’d been gone.
I paused when I heard the creak of a floorboard upstairs. There was no reason for anyone to be here. It was well past midnight, and my father had lived alone for years.
I held my breath, my ears straining for any sound, when I heard another creak. I grabbed my purse and darted toward the semi-hidden closet under the stairs. I fumbled for my phone, nearly dropping it as I extracted it from the pocket of my jacket. The screen illuminated the dark, and my hands shook as I dialed 9-1-1.
Beneath the familiarity and the memories housed in one of my favorite childhood nooks…beneath the comfort was fear. Awareness prickled down my spine. Someone was in the house.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“I’d like to report a break-in,” I whispered, cupping the speaker. “At 830 Howard Street.”
“Are you at the house now?” I appreciated her calm tone, even if it was a bit unnerving.
“Yes.”
“Are you somewhere safe?”
“I’m hiding in a closet. Please. Send help.” I could hear footsteps on the stairs.Oh shit. My luggage by the front door was a dead giveaway.
“The police are on their way. I’ll stay on the line with you until they arrive.”
