Page 76 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Unholy laughter billowed into the cool air, defiling the frosty morning as he kept walking, a madman with no fear. “Not before I put a bullet in your head, whore.”

Crack!

The sound of her Glock reverberated in the air as her bullet whizzed his arm. He stumbled back with a stunned look. The whites of his eyes expanded in horror when a scarlet stain grew like a sponge in the dirty white fabric of his soiled T-shirt.

“Get away from the car!” she screamed, jerking the Glock higher.

His shock turned to hate as he backed away, the deep blue of his eyes turning black and beady as he clutched his bloody arm. “I’m going to make you pay for this, skank,” he whispered, the sound an eerie hiss while he staggered back. “And then I’m going to kill you.” He tripped over one of the rocks that lined the drive and toppled to the ground. His vile curses and groans were music to Molly’s ears.

Chest heaving, she ripped her jacket off and raced around the back of the car to the driver’s side while the creep lumbered up in a daze. Lashing the door open, she tossed her jacket on the seat and got in, switching the pistol to her left hand to turn the key with her right. The engine growled to life, its savage screech colliding with that of the wacko as he charged her side of the car.

Heart in her throat, she rammed into reverse and squealed out of the drive, spitting gravel into the air like a dust storm with sting. In the street, she gunned the engine for all it was worth, laying rubber for one hundred yards before she finally glanced in the rear-view mirror. Hands white on the steering wheel, bile rose as she heaved jagged breaths of air while the creature got smaller and smaller, finally disappearing in a foggy haze of dust.

“You’re too sweet and soft, babe,” Tyler had told her, “too afraid of little things like spiders and snakes to have what it takes to be hardcore like a detective needs to be.”

Apparently. Her whole body shook as she laid the pistol on the passenger seat and sped toward Emerald Cottage, chest heaving with sobs she could no longer hold back. But then this was her first experience with being strangled and stalked by a demon on dope, so bring on the spiders and snakes …

She swerved hard into Miss Lilly’s gravel drive. Practically pummeling the garage-door opener, she waited for the door to raise before the psycho could find her, sweat beading both her neck and forehead. Grateful Miss Lilly had driven to Mabel’s, Molly pulled the car in and rammed the remote button hard, relief all but melting her to the seat. Carefully retrieving her phone from her back jeans pocket, she tried to hold it still while she searched for Sloan’s number. Frustration swarmed when her trembling fingers kept messing up, so she opted for Siri.

“Hey, Siri, c-call Sloan,” she stuttered, praying Siri wouldn’t balk. She didn’t.

“Sloan Kennedy,” a gruff voice answered, and Molly literally sobbed in gratitude.

“Sloan, i-it’s”—a heave broke from her throat—“M-Molly …”

“Molly? What’s wrong?” She’d never heard that kind of panic in his voice before, but she certainly understood it. “Are you all right?”

“I … w-was attacked … in Pete’s house … by his nephew …”—another gasp of air escaped before she was able to swallow the bile rising in her throat, so rattled, she prayed he could understand—“shot at h-him and then d-drove away, b-but he’s still after m-me …”

“Where are you?” he shouted.

“Em … rald … Cottage, d-doors locked.”

“Do you need an ambulance?”

“No … j-just your help …”

“I’m on my way. Do you have your pistol?”

A harsh chuckle scraped past her lips. “Oh y-yeah.”

He barked orders that had her nodding. Or maybe she was just shaking that much. “Double-check all the doors and windows to make sure they’re locked, and I’ll be right there.”

He hung up, and Molly grabbed both her pistol and her purse before hurling the car door open, not even bothering to close it again as she dashed into the house. Never again would she argue with Miss Lilly about leaving the kitchen entry door unlocked when she went out!

Slamming it closed again, she quickly bolted it, dropping her purse with her gun inside before racing to every window and door to make sure all were secure. Returning to grab her gun from her purse, she sagged against the kitchen garage door, her limbs like rubber as she literally sank all the way down. Her gun slid from her grip in a clatter onto the wood-plank floor, but she was barely aware, knees clutched to her chest. Head buried on top, she broke down and cried like a baby, thinking as much as she hated to admit it, Tyler was right. She was too soft to be a detective.

She dug a tissue from her purse and blew her nose loudly, hiccupping for good measure as she dabbed at her eyes. Sloan had asked if she was all right. She grunted before she blew her nose once more.

Ha! Not even.