A creak jerked his attention toward the entry hall.
He’d locked the doors. He was sure of it. Had he set the alarm?
Shit! No, he hadn’t. Shit!
Calm down and go set it now. His imagination was running away with him.
He pushed up from the sofa, swayed a moment before he captured his equilibrium. Damn, that Scotch had done the trick. He walked unsteadily into the entry hall. The cool marble floor beneath his feet made him laugh.
How could he have heard the floor creak when the entry hall was marble? Yeah, yeah, he was scared shitless and hearing things.
He reached the keypad. The buttons gleamed in the darkness. What the hell was his code? Maybe he should have done this before he drank the Scotch.
Who cared about the alarm? He should just open his front door and wave to the officers in the squad car parked in his driveway. They were supposed to be his security system.
He heard that sound again. Not a creak this time ... a soft whisper of leather against stone.
He turned around too fast, swayed, dropped the bottle of Scotch. It crashed against the marble.
“Tsk, tsk, Doctor. Such a waste of good Scotch.”
Carter peered through the darkness. Tried to make out the face of the form. There was someone there. This was not his imagination. He analyzed the voice, but it was too soft, too low.
“What do you want? How did you get in here?”
“Carter, Carter,” the voice whispered. “You’ve been a very bad boy.”
Fury whipped through him, making him sway again. “Did my father send you?” That would be just like the old man. Send someone to shake him up, teach him a lesson. “The police are right outside.”
“No, I’m afraid your father didn’t send me. And your policemen are too busy discussing how it sucks to work so hard for so little while jerkoffs like you are born into money.”
“Who the hell are you? And why are you here?” His tongue was thick now. He had a hard time getting the words out. Wait ... heknew. “Nash? Did that bastard send you?” Carter should push those two buttons. The two that summoned emergency services. He tried to focus on the keypad. Couldn’t.
His visitor said something he didn’t understand. Carter didn’t care. He tried to see the keypad again. His vision blurred. He couldn’t see which buttons to push.
“Come, Carter,” the voice said.
He shuddered. It was right behind him now. He needed to run. Before he could make his legs react, something hit him in the back. Something small. He yelped.
“You’re going to do us all a very big favor, Carter.”
He tried to reach behind him, tried to pull it off.
A jolt went through him. His muscles convulsed. His face was suddenly lying against the cool marble.
What the hell?
He told himself to move. Couldn’t.
Something moved beside him.
He tried to turn his head ... couldn’t.
“You’re going to die, Doctor. Any last requests?”
Chapter Forty-Eight
904 Williams Avenue, 11:48 p.m.
