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Sam shielded his eyes, blinking, then flopped over on his stomach. “I read in the living room.”
Her own eyes took a minute to adjust. When they did, her pupils widened at the wreck they had made of the bed. The covers were twisted and hanging off, the pillows were—where were the pillows?—and the bottom sheet was pulled free at one corner and wadded in the middle of the bed. “Holy cow,” she said in astonishment, then shook herself and looked around for her clothes.
Sam opened his eyes and propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes both sleepy and intent as he watched her search the room. She found her shirt tangled in the bedcovers. She got down on her knees to peer under the bed for her bra; he scooted closer so he’d have a better view of her backside waving in the air.
“How on earth did it get under the bed?” she fussed, dragging the bra out of its hiding place.
“Crawled,” he suggested.
She gave him a quick grin and looked around. “And my pants are …?”
“In the living room.”
She went into the living room, turned on a lamp, and was in the process of untangling her pants when Sam wandered in, stark naked and carrying a pair of sneakers. Jaine didn’t bother with her bra, but slipped into her panties, then pulled on her shirt and pants. Sam stepped into his jeans and pulled them up, then sat down and put on the sneakers.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Walking you to your door.”
She opened her mouth to say that wasn’t necessary; then she remembered it was necessary, at least for now. She put on her shoes, stuffed her bra in her purse, then gathered up her shopping bags. Sam slid his pistol out of its holster, holding it in his right hand. “Give me your key and stay behind me,” he said.
She dug her key chain out of her purse, selected the house key for him, and handed it over.
The rain had stopped, leaving the night warm and humid. Crickets chirped, and at the end of the street the corner light wore a misty halo. They crossed both driveways and went up the steps to the kitchen door. Sam tucked the pistol in his waistband while he unlocked the door; then he returned the keys to her and drew the pistol once more. He opened the door, reached inside, and flipped on the light switch.
He uttered a vicious curse. Jaine blinked at the destruction illuminated by the overhead light, then she screamed, “BooBoo!” and tried to lunge past Sam. He blocked her with an out-thrust arm, turning so that his big body barred the entrance. “Go to my house and call nine-one-one,” he barked. “Now!”
“But BooBoo—”
“Go!” he yelled, giving her a shove that almost sent her flying off the stoop. Then he wheeled and stepped into the house.
He was a cop; she had to trust him in this. Her teeth chattering, she ran back to his house and into the kitchen, where she knew he had a cordless. Grabbing it up, she punched the talk button, then 911.
“Where are you calling from?” The voice was impersonal and almost uninterested.
“Uh—next door.” Jaine closed her eyes. “I mean, I’m calling from my next door neighbor’s. My house has been ransacked.” She gave her own address. “My neighbor is a cop, and he’s going through the house right now.” Carrying the phone, she walked out on the front porch, staring across the driveways at her little house, where lights now blazed from two of the windows. As she watched, the light in her bedroom came on. “He’s armed—”
“Who is?” The dispatcher sounded suddenly alarmed.
“My neighbor is! Tell the police if they see a half-naked man with a gun, don’t shoot, he’s one of them!” She took a deep breath, her heart pounding so hard she thought she would be sick. “I’m going over there.”
“No! Ma’am, don’t go over there. If your neighbor is a policeman, stay out of his way Ma’am, are you listening?”
“I’m here.” She didn’t say she was listening. Her hand was shaking, clattering the phone against her teeth.
“Stay on the phone, ma’am, so I can keep the responding officers up-to-date on the status. Units have already been dispatched to your address; they’ll be there in a few minutes. Just be patient, please.”
She couldn’t be patient, but she could be sensible. She waited on the porch, tears tracking down her face as she stared unblinkingly at her own house, where Sam was methodically searching it and putting his life in danger every time he entered a room. She didn’t dare think about BooBoo. The dispatcher said something else but she had stopped listening, though she did make a noise to let the woman know she was still there. In the distance she could hear the shrill of sirens.
Sam stepped out on the kitchen stoop, BooBoo cradled in his left arm.
“BooBoo!” Jaine threw down the phone and ran across to them. Sam let her take the cat from him, then he tucked the pistol in his waistband.
“Whoever did it didn’t hang around,” he said, putting his arm around her and urging her back toward his house.
With BooBoo safe and disgruntled in her arms, she dug in her heels. “I want to see—”
“Not yet. Let the techs do their job first, maybe find something that will give us a clue who this bastard is.”
