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FIFTEEN
Chase’s muscles tightened. The gunshots had come from outside, near the front of the house. He bolted across the living room to the windows overlooking the driveway. Red and blue lights strobed across the grass. The driver’s side door to the patrol car was open, but David wasn’t visible. Had his fellow officer shot at an intruder? Or worse, had he been shot?
Within moments, Chase had palmed his gun and his cell phone. He called the attack into dispatch while hustling Faith down the hallway toward her bedroom and the baby. His best friend needed no urging. She raced to collect Anna from the playpen. The baby was still sleeping as she settled into the crook of Faith’s arms.
He loved them. Both of them. Chase was going to marry Faith. His future was with her and, God willing, with Anna too. The fear of losing them forever if the killer succeeded in his mission was nearly crippling in its intensity.
Chase had to make sure that didn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow it to happen.
“Come on.” He lightly took Faith’s arm and tugged her down the hallway, back toward the kitchen. The bedroom only had windows. If the killer made it inside the house, they had limited means of escape. Chase had planned for every contingency. He needed to get them to a place where they had access to both the front and back doors. Backup was on the way, but it would take time for them to reach the house. How long he wasn’t certain. He’d hung up on dispatch to call David. The officer wasn’t answering.
That fueled the worry coursing through Chase’s veins. He shot off a text message to his friend but didn’t get a response. Chase didn’t want to consider what that could mean. David was a good friend, and the urge to race outside to his aid was a strong one, but Chase couldn’t leave Faith and Anna unprotected. He sent up a silent prayer for David’s safety.
Chase paused in the hallway, listening for any noise that didn’t belong. The quick tick of the grandfather clock melded with the sound of his own heartbeat and Faith’s quick breathing.
Nothing. The intruder hadn’t entered the house. Not yet.
The living room was centered in the house and provided the most visibility. He guided Faith near the Christmas tree and urged her to crouch low. The bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the house would provide cover if the killer shot through any of the windows. The twinkling lights on the tree played against her hair and illuminated the fearful look in her eyes. Somewhere along the way, she’d grabbed a knife. She clutched the weapon in one hand while keeping the baby safe in the other. Scamper, sensing the danger to his mistress, took a protective stance next to her.
“Stay here,” Chase whispered.
Faith nodded sharply. He squeezed her hand in a comforting gesture before releasing it and taking several steps toward the windows overlooking the front yard. His vision blurred, and he stumbled. Chase’s hand shot out. He grabbed the back of the armchair and steadied himself. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. The room spun.
What on earth?
He’d been in dangerous situations before—life-threatening ones, even—but he’d never experienced anything like this. Chase shook off the sudden wave of dizziness and forced himself to take a few more steps. Time seemed to move in slow motion. Something slammed into his knees and it took Chase far too long to realize he’d fallen to the carpet. A heartbeat later and Faith was by his side. His vision swam again and he could sense she was talking to him, but her voice sounded very far away, as though she was in a tunnel.
His muscles went slack and he slid the rest of the way to the carpet. Someplace, in the back of his foggy mind, his brain registered what’d happened.
Drugged. He’d been drugged.
In the hot chocolate?
He tried to move his mouth, to warn Faith, but the words wouldn’t come.
The world went black.
“Chase!” Faith shook his shoulder, panic welling in her chest as his eyes rolled back in his head and he became unresponsive. Had he been shot? She hadn’t heard a bullet, nor was there any blood, but something was terribly wrong. She pressed her fingers to his neck and found a strong and steady pulse. His breathing was also regular.
Faith’s head swam as a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her. Anna, still nestled in the crook of her left arm, was so heavy. A wet tongue scraped across Faith’s cheek, snapping her mind into focus. Scamper. The dog was next to her. He nudged her shoulder and Faith belatedly realized she must’ve closed her eyes for a moment. They were so heavy.
Unnaturally heavy. She’d been drugged. It was the only thing that made sense. And the only thing she’d had in the last half an hour was the hot chocolate. Chase had finished his entire mug, but Faith only had about half. Whatever had been in the mix wasn’t strong enough to render her unconscious. At least, not yet.
Scamper growled, the sound low and deep in his chest. It sent Faith’s heart into overdrive. She shook Chase’s shoulder once more, calling his name, but he remained unresponsive. Giving up, she palmed the sharp knife she’d taken from the kitchen. Chase’s gun rested on the floor next to him, but Faith didn’t know how to shoot. She wouldn’t even be able to figure out how to get the safety off.
Heart pounding, she followed Scamper’s gaze to the front door. The handle twisted, first one way, then the other. A scream lodged itself in Faith’s throat. She clutched Anna closer to her chest. The baby was still sleeping, thankfully, long lashes resting against her chubby cheeks.
No one was going to hurt this child. No one.
God, give me strength.
She would need it. How could she protect Anna and defend an unconscious Chase with nothing more than a knife? Her gaze frantically bounced around the room, seeking answers. The flashing bulbs on the Christmas tree drew her attention. The cheery lights were a sharp contrast to the fear coursing through her veins, but then a flash of inspiration struck her.
Faith scurried across the living room. Several presents rested under the Christmas tree branches. One box was large. She tossed the top off and quickly removed the cozy blanket inside. It was a gift for her mother, who loved curling up on the couch at night with a cup of tea to watch her shows. Ever so gently, Faith laid a still sleeping Anna into the empty box. “Stay quiet, little one.”
The baby sighed, completely unaware of the danger coming their way. Faith replaced the lid on the box, careful to leave a corner elevated for fresh air. Then she patted Scamper’s head. “Guard, boy.”
She gathered the blanket just as movement shifted on the porch. A dark shadow, large enough to be a man, appeared in the window pane. Seconds later, glass shattered, and a hand reached in to unlock the door. Bile rose in Faith’s throat. She clutched the blanket to her chest, as if it was a baby, and shot to her full height. Her mind raced. Would her trick work? In the dark, and at a glance, she prayed the attacker would believe she had Anna wrapped up in her blanket.
