backward and let out a groan. “We need to wrap this up for today. Daddy needs rest—”
“Not till I see the checkered flag,” his father said. “LJ, hand me that clicker.”
LJ hit the power button, the volume blared, and he handed the remote to Galen.
Travis’s eyebrows arched. “Well, I think that’s it for today, gentlemen.”
Jack was glad he would get to spend time with Rebecca and Faye before bed. As he and Derrick headed for the parking lot, he mentally juggled the leads he planned to follow the next day. He would get into the paper early and explain everything to Cecil, in hopes that the editor would allow both him and Derrick to dig into the Demler-Vargus story full force.
“Right now, Demler-Vargus doesn’t know we’re looking into this,” Jack said.
“Was that a question?” Derrick hit the unlock button, and the lights blinked on the Cruiser as they hurried toward it in the cold night.
“I’m just trying to keep everything sorted out.”
“I know, this thing is feeling big.”
“You’re feeling it too?” Jack said. “It’s not just me?”
Derrick hopped into the driver’s seat, started the car, and flipped the heat on. “Are you kidding me? I feel like we’re standing on top of a hornets’ nest, but the hornets don’t know we’re there yet.”
“I gotta get Cecil to turn us loose on this.”
“He’ll be all over it. Nothin’ he likes better than a scoop.”
Jack’s phone vibrated as Derrick maneuvered the Toyota out of the parking lot. Seeing Pam’s number on his phone made Jack’s heart skip; she usually just texted him while he was working, unless it was something important.
“Hey, hon,” he said.
“Just be calm, okay?” Pam whispered. “Granger Meade is at our front door.”
Chapter 8
As she crouched in the dark by the window in the dining room with her back to the wall, Pamela made herself take deep breaths, in … very deep … as far as she could, and out … phhheewwwwww.
She had sequestered the girls in Faye’s closet, upstairs in her bedroom, with the door locked. Jack and Derrick were on their way. So were the police.
Stay calm.
She thought of how her mother would be freaking.
She thought of the gun they’d never bought.
It’s okay.
Keep the girls calm, Lord, please …
Rebecca had spotted him first and casually called from her bedroom upstairs, “Mommy, someone’s parked out front.”
Rebecca had known her mom would want to know. Ever since the home invasion, Pamela checked the street frequently out of habit.
Granger had unfolded out of the tiny truck and walked slowly and purposefully toward the house. His hands were chest high, as if someone was behind him with a gun, telling him to keep them in the air. He was thinner but still huge and broad, with a thatch of oily red hair.
When she heard his footsteps on the front porch, within inches of the door, within several feet of her trembling frame, Pamela’s breath departed. Her head buzzed as she waited for his shoulder to hit the door as it had before, like a medicine ball, busting through the glass and splintering the wood.
She felt worthless cowering there, paralyzed by the memory of him driving her through the night in the horrendous rain … as he smoked … talked nonsense … sweated … tore beef jerky with his crooked front teeth.
The first ring of the doorbell had jolted her back to reality. That’s when she fumbled for the phone and called Jack, and he’d said he would call the police.
Now the doorbell rang again, echoing in the foyer of the still house. Her heart ticked rapidly, like that of a frightened animal.
Breathe.
The girls would be worried.
Blanket them in peace, Lord.
His knocks reverberated in her chest like gunfire.
Tilting her head ever so slightly so she could see more out the front window, she saw he had backed away from the door seven or eight feet after knocking and was standing with one foot on the driveway and the other on the porch step. He
“Not till I see the checkered flag,” his father said. “LJ, hand me that clicker.”
LJ hit the power button, the volume blared, and he handed the remote to Galen.
Travis’s eyebrows arched. “Well, I think that’s it for today, gentlemen.”
Jack was glad he would get to spend time with Rebecca and Faye before bed. As he and Derrick headed for the parking lot, he mentally juggled the leads he planned to follow the next day. He would get into the paper early and explain everything to Cecil, in hopes that the editor would allow both him and Derrick to dig into the Demler-Vargus story full force.
“Right now, Demler-Vargus doesn’t know we’re looking into this,” Jack said.
“Was that a question?” Derrick hit the unlock button, and the lights blinked on the Cruiser as they hurried toward it in the cold night.
“I’m just trying to keep everything sorted out.”
“I know, this thing is feeling big.”
“You’re feeling it too?” Jack said. “It’s not just me?”
Derrick hopped into the driver’s seat, started the car, and flipped the heat on. “Are you kidding me? I feel like we’re standing on top of a hornets’ nest, but the hornets don’t know we’re there yet.”
“I gotta get Cecil to turn us loose on this.”
“He’ll be all over it. Nothin’ he likes better than a scoop.”
Jack’s phone vibrated as Derrick maneuvered the Toyota out of the parking lot. Seeing Pam’s number on his phone made Jack’s heart skip; she usually just texted him while he was working, unless it was something important.
“Hey, hon,” he said.
“Just be calm, okay?” Pam whispered. “Granger Meade is at our front door.”
Chapter 8
As she crouched in the dark by the window in the dining room with her back to the wall, Pamela made herself take deep breaths, in … very deep … as far as she could, and out … phhheewwwwww.
She had sequestered the girls in Faye’s closet, upstairs in her bedroom, with the door locked. Jack and Derrick were on their way. So were the police.
Stay calm.
She thought of how her mother would be freaking.
She thought of the gun they’d never bought.
It’s okay.
Keep the girls calm, Lord, please …
Rebecca had spotted him first and casually called from her bedroom upstairs, “Mommy, someone’s parked out front.”
Rebecca had known her mom would want to know. Ever since the home invasion, Pamela checked the street frequently out of habit.
Granger had unfolded out of the tiny truck and walked slowly and purposefully toward the house. His hands were chest high, as if someone was behind him with a gun, telling him to keep them in the air. He was thinner but still huge and broad, with a thatch of oily red hair.
When she heard his footsteps on the front porch, within inches of the door, within several feet of her trembling frame, Pamela’s breath departed. Her head buzzed as she waited for his shoulder to hit the door as it had before, like a medicine ball, busting through the glass and splintering the wood.
She felt worthless cowering there, paralyzed by the memory of him driving her through the night in the horrendous rain … as he smoked … talked nonsense … sweated … tore beef jerky with his crooked front teeth.
The first ring of the doorbell had jolted her back to reality. That’s when she fumbled for the phone and called Jack, and he’d said he would call the police.
Now the doorbell rang again, echoing in the foyer of the still house. Her heart ticked rapidly, like that of a frightened animal.
Breathe.
The girls would be worried.
Blanket them in peace, Lord.
His knocks reverberated in her chest like gunfire.
Tilting her head ever so slightly so she could see more out the front window, she saw he had backed away from the door seven or eight feet after knocking and was standing with one foot on the driveway and the other on the porch step. He
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