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Chapter Eleven
“Stay here,” Luke told Kaylee, his body as tense as the dog’s as they approached the front door.
“No way,” she whispered, clutching his hand. “What if it’s an axe murderer?”
He stopped and swiveled his head to look at her. “An axe murderer? I was thinking more like a neighbor who came over to borrow something or the less likely idea that I’m being robbed. But I hadn’t even considered an axe murderer.”
She shrugged. “I’m a writer. I have a vivid imagination.”
“Okay, but why would anyone want to murder me? With an axe, no less.”
“Axe murderers aren’t always logical.”
“All the more reason for you to wait out here.”
“By myself?” Her voice squeaked.
His lips twitched up in a grin. “All right, we can face the axe murderer together. But at least stay behind me, okay?”
“Deal.” She pressed closer as she followed him up the stairs. He set the bag of leftovers in one of the rocking chairs and let go of her hand as he picked up the broom that had been left there from when he’d swept the mud off the porch earlier that day.
“A broom’s not gonna do much against an axe,” she whispered.
He turned his head back toward her. “You sure you don’t want to wait out here?” he whispered back.
“Sorry. I’m sure that broom will work great.”
He nodded as he turned back. Holding the broom out in front of him, he carefully pushed open the door with the end of the handle.
Kaylee had hold of the back of his shirt as she followed right behind him. She gasped as she peered around his shoulder.
The living room had the pillows from the sofa knocked to the floor, but the kitchen was the real disaster. The pantry door was open, and canned and boxed goods had been pulled from the shelves and littered the floor. Pasta noodles lay scattered amongst cans of green beans, and the air held a mix of garlic and tomato scents from the jar of pizza sauce that had broken, the contents from which were now splattered across the lower cabinets.
A bag of flour had burst open when it fell, and the dust had exploded across the hard wood. Tiny floury footprints crisscrossed over the kitchen floor then up a cabinet and across the counter, leading to the masked bandit.
But their intruder wasn’t holding an ax. Instead, he gripped a red box of Cheez-Its in his furry paws.
A large raccoon sat on the kitchen counter, calmly nibbling a cracker from the package as he peered at them across the wreckage.
For one moment, they all just stared at each other, then all heck broke loose as the dog’s raced toward the kitchen, barking and growling at the masked trespasser.
The raccoon took off across the counter, knocking off the bowl Emma had been grating cheese into as it ran, but still keeping hold of the box of crackers. The bowl hit the hard wood, spilling the leftover cheese onto the floor, but not shattering the glass.
Cooper barked again, but Gladys stopped to gobble up the orange cheese shreds then licked at the pizza sauce on the cabinets.
“Get down from there,” Luke yelled, waving the broom toward the raccoon as he tried to get it off the counter.
Kaylee hopped from one foot to the other, not sure how to help, but unable to stand still. She pointed to the raccoon as it climbed on top of the pink pig-shaped cookie jar and leapt up to the top of the refrigerator, a cracker still clutched in its paw. “Get it, Luke. It’s on top of the fridge.”
“I can see where it is,” he called back. “How do you expect me to get it? Hold out my arms and tell it to jump?”
“I don’t know,” she shrieked. “I’ve never had a raccoon in my house before.”
“Well, I haven’t either.”
Kaylee let out another shriek as the thing leapt off the refrigerator.
It hit the floor with ease, but instead of running toward the door they’d left open, it scampered straight toward Kaylee.
