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Mrs. Cortez clutched her husband’s arm. “Jeffrey … Jeffrey!”
“Andrea,” her husband admonished her. “It’s all right. Livvy’s power came back on and probably triggered her house alarm because she had the door open.”
“Jeffrey!” The woman pointed to the porch step, her face pale and pinched with horror. Her husband followed her finger and let out a low curse. Livvy didn’t want to look. She didn’t. But she forced her gaze to drop, and cold chills danced across her bare arms.
A bloody white collared dove. The note underneath was printed in block letters.
NO MORE WAITING. I’M COMING FOR YOU NOW.
Livvy was going to be sick.
“Stay here and call the police,” Mr. Cortez commanded. “The sicko who did this can’t be far. Where’s your breaker box?”
“Garage,” she managed. Her stomach tumbled.
‘The sicko who did this?’ Treven couldn’t be here. He couldn’t. He was in prison. It was one of his friends or someone he’d paid.
That didn’t make her feel much better.
Mr. Cortez slid past her and raced through her house and into the garage entry.
Livvy should’ve called 911, but she wanted Jensen. He might prefer busty redheads, but he represented safety, protection, and solid strength to her.
She held her phone button down and said, “Call Chief Jensen.”
Mrs. Cortez’s eyebrows lifted as she stared at her. Livvy didn’t care to explain. Her neighbors probably thought she was odd enough, only leaving her house when her dad was around. If she told the lady she had a huge crush on the chief of police and he kindly came by to check on her, she couldn’t imagine what she’d think or say.
The call connected.
“Livvy.” Jensen’s voice was soft and husky. Just the way he said her name made warmth and safety flow through her. He put so much inflection in her name, it made her feel as if she’d called him at nine-thirty at night to beg him to come snuggle through a movie.
“My power got turned off. There’s a dead dove and a note saying, ‘No more waiting. I’m coming for you now’.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll get officers en route.” Jensen became very businesslike, and she could hear him moving. “Are your doors locked? Are you alone?”
“I’m on the porch, but my neighbors are here with me. The power came back on, so Mr. Cortez chased after whoever must’ve been messing with it. My dad’s on his way.”
“Okay. Officers are in your area; they’ll be right there.” The speaker switched, and she heard a motor start.
Sirens split the night air around her house. Mrs. Cortez’s brows went up again. “That was quick. Special privileges, eh?”
Mr. Cortez came through the gate from the backyard, gasping for air and shaking his head. “The guy went over two fences. I’m sorry.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I couldn’t catch him.”
There had been a guy, though. That made her fear ramp up again. How had he gotten into her garage? She always kept it locked. And why hadn’t he left as soon as the alarm went off?
She nodded to him and said to Jensen, “My neighbor chased somebody, but he got away. Treven isn’t …”
“He’s still in prison.”
“Thank heavens.” She walked on wobbly legs to her porch swing and sank into it.
Police cars raced up to her house, her dad pulling in at the same time. Neighbors poked their heads out their doors. Livvy clutched the phone to her ear. She didn’t want to talk to anyone but Jensen. Not even her dad. That thought startled her. Her dad was always here for her.
“I’ll make a call and check on Treven,” Jensen said. “You’ll be all right until I get there?”
“Yes, thank you. The police and my dad are here.”
“All right. See you soon.”
