Read Online Every Move She Makes by Robin Burcell - Free Book Online
Authors: Robin Burcell
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blindly for the book of matches I hoped was there. "Sam, if it's you, you need to turn yourself in," I said, trying to sound the voice of reason. Keep him talking. Away from my door. I found the matches. Rushed to the window. I lit the whole damn book. The thick, blue-yellow flame danced in the glass. Heat seared my fingers. I dropped the book into a ceramic dish on the windowsill. Had Torrance seen it? Something crashed on the stairs. I spun toward the kitchen. My gun. It was in my purse. I
heard the cat scream, as if someone had stepped on its tail.
"IAS watching the place," I said, my gaze riveting on the kitchen door.
If it was Scolari, he'd leave. If it wasn't Scolari, I didn't know what he'd do. Could I reach my purse before whoever was there got in?
"They're outside now.
The phone disconnected. My stomach clenched.
Was I only imagining that someone was rattling the doorknob? That my kitchen door was shaking?
God, let it be the wind.
Goddammit. Open up!" I stared at the door. I didn't want to know who was there, not without reinforcements. I grabbed my gun, pointed it toward the kitchen, called 911. My heart bolted in my chest.
The pounding on the door continued. "Gillespie?
You okay?" "Torrance?" I called out. The 911 operator came on the line.
I ignored her, waiting to hear it was Torrance out there. That I hadn't imagined his voice. "Gillespie." The knob turned. Rattled. "Unlock this thing." I slammed the phone in the receiver, then rushed into the kitchen. "Torrance?" I asked again, my hand on the lock. "What's going on in there?" I tore open the door. He stood on my porch, soaked to the bone. Rivulets of water ran down his dark hair and he brushed it off of his face, then removed my weapon from my shaking hand. "Mind if I come in?" he asked. Not waiting for my answer, he entered, set my gun on the counter. I sank into one of two. kitchen chairs, numbly watching while he locked the door and turned to study me. The water from his raincoat flooded the linoleum floor, but neither of us paid much attention. "I saw your light," he said.
"Someone called." How ridiculous that sounded.
Like I expected the suspect to reach through the phone and grab me. "At first I thought it was Scolari, but I couldn't tell." "What did he say?"
His voice was calm, and he showed no emotion in his face. Just as I would, were I facing a hysterical woman who cried wolf. just as I had done many times on patrol myself. It was strange being on this side of the fence. I'd overreacted. It shook me to think how quickly I'd lost control. "I panicked when I heard a noise on the steps. I thought he was on a cellular. I didn't recognize the voice.
Thought whoever it was might have come here looking for me."
"I didn't see anyone. Maybe it was the wind." "No. I definitely heard something ... although I guess it could have been Dinky."
"Dinky?
"My landlord's cat."
"The cat I saw on your porch is named Dinky? As in small?"
"Believe it or not, Dinky was the runt of the litter. He lives on my steps."
"What did Scolari say?"
"I don't think it was him," I said. Torrance leaned against the kitchen counter, his expression telling me he believed otherwise. I recounted the phone conversation.
"Sorry I got you out of your car," I finished.
He didn't quite smile, but almost, and I expected it was probably an effort. "Don't worry about-" He stopped. This time there was someone on the steps. Then a knock. Had the caller dared to come over anyway?
Torrance wasn't taking any chances. He stood to the side of the door, drew his weapon from his shoulder holster, motioned for me to answer.
"Who is it?" I called out.
"Police. We got a 911 call?"
"Just a moment," I said.
Torrance backed to the kitchen window over the sink, lifted the curtain a fraction to peek out. "It's okay," he said, holstering his weapon. I pointed to my Smith and Wesson on the counter
heard the cat scream, as if someone had stepped on its tail.
"IAS watching the place," I said, my gaze riveting on the kitchen door.
If it was Scolari, he'd leave. If it wasn't Scolari, I didn't know what he'd do. Could I reach my purse before whoever was there got in?
"They're outside now.
The phone disconnected. My stomach clenched.
Was I only imagining that someone was rattling the doorknob? That my kitchen door was shaking?
God, let it be the wind.
Goddammit. Open up!" I stared at the door. I didn't want to know who was there, not without reinforcements. I grabbed my gun, pointed it toward the kitchen, called 911. My heart bolted in my chest.
The pounding on the door continued. "Gillespie?
You okay?" "Torrance?" I called out. The 911 operator came on the line.
I ignored her, waiting to hear it was Torrance out there. That I hadn't imagined his voice. "Gillespie." The knob turned. Rattled. "Unlock this thing." I slammed the phone in the receiver, then rushed into the kitchen. "Torrance?" I asked again, my hand on the lock. "What's going on in there?" I tore open the door. He stood on my porch, soaked to the bone. Rivulets of water ran down his dark hair and he brushed it off of his face, then removed my weapon from my shaking hand. "Mind if I come in?" he asked. Not waiting for my answer, he entered, set my gun on the counter. I sank into one of two. kitchen chairs, numbly watching while he locked the door and turned to study me. The water from his raincoat flooded the linoleum floor, but neither of us paid much attention. "I saw your light," he said.
"Someone called." How ridiculous that sounded.
Like I expected the suspect to reach through the phone and grab me. "At first I thought it was Scolari, but I couldn't tell." "What did he say?"
His voice was calm, and he showed no emotion in his face. Just as I would, were I facing a hysterical woman who cried wolf. just as I had done many times on patrol myself. It was strange being on this side of the fence. I'd overreacted. It shook me to think how quickly I'd lost control. "I panicked when I heard a noise on the steps. I thought he was on a cellular. I didn't recognize the voice.
Thought whoever it was might have come here looking for me."
"I didn't see anyone. Maybe it was the wind." "No. I definitely heard something ... although I guess it could have been Dinky."
"Dinky?
"My landlord's cat."
"The cat I saw on your porch is named Dinky? As in small?"
"Believe it or not, Dinky was the runt of the litter. He lives on my steps."
"What did Scolari say?"
"I don't think it was him," I said. Torrance leaned against the kitchen counter, his expression telling me he believed otherwise. I recounted the phone conversation.
"Sorry I got you out of your car," I finished.
He didn't quite smile, but almost, and I expected it was probably an effort. "Don't worry about-" He stopped. This time there was someone on the steps. Then a knock. Had the caller dared to come over anyway?
Torrance wasn't taking any chances. He stood to the side of the door, drew his weapon from his shoulder holster, motioned for me to answer.
"Who is it?" I called out.
"Police. We got a 911 call?"
"Just a moment," I said.
Torrance backed to the kitchen window over the sink, lifted the curtain a fraction to peek out. "It's okay," he said, holstering his weapon. I pointed to my Smith and Wesson on the counter
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