Danger at her Door Beth Cornelison
To Paul, my husband and best friend!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 1
Raising her gaze from the latest youre-over-the-hill-at-thirty birthday card from her colleagues, Megan met the unyielding stare of the police officer standing beside her chair in a private room of an upscale coffee shop. Her fellow teachers had convinced her to join them for lattes and birthday cake on their way home from school, and, though tired, Megan had accepted the thoughtful offer.
But the policeman staring down at her quickly put a damper on any fun shed been having. E-excuse me?
The sight of the uniform prodded a memory that lurked daily at the corners of her thoughts, and a shiver crept down her spine. Shock rendered her mind blank and her jaw slack.
I have a warrant here for your arrest, Miss Megan, he said, arching a black eyebrow.
What on earth for? She realized too late how loud and panicked her voice sounded. Casting a nervous glance around the table at the other teachers, she found all eyes on her. Even Principal Wilkins witnessed the unfolding drama with a peculiar, amused expression on his face.
Clearing her throat, Megan repeated the question more calmly.
A smile touched the corner of the officers lips, and that hint of a grin, along with his informal use of Miss Megan, rang warning bells in her head.
The young police officer unfolded a sheet of paper and gave it a once-over. According to this, you turned thirty today.
Megan blinked, confused. Yes, but
The officer reached behind his back and whipped out his handcuffs.
The loud whoosh of rushing blood filled her ears and drowned out his reply. Numbly, she watched the bright flash of silver swim before her eyes. He tugged her arm up and snapped the cold metal shackle to her wrist. She froze in shock as he quickly threaded the cuffs under the armrest then shackled her other wrist as well. Her panicked yelp rang mutely in her ears, as if from under water. She fought the imprisoning cuffs, jerking her hands back to free them. No use. The cuffs fettered her to the chair. No! Not again! Please, God, not again!
The blare of music, reverberating from the white plaster walls, snatched her from her dazed struggle. Galled by the turn of events, she searched the faces of her fellow teachers and sought an ally.
The usually stoic third-grade teacher smiled and sipped her Coca-Cola. Propped next to the creams and sugars on the condiment counter, the physical education instructor laughed. At the end of the table, the principals secretary bit her lip to cover a giggle. Itd been so long since you had a date, we figured you could use a man for your birthday!
The secretarys comment brought a murmur of chuckles from the rest of the table, but the swirl of panic spinning through Megans brain muddled her thoughts and made it difficult to comprehend what was happening.
The police officer turned her chair and stepped into her line of vision, his broad chest obscuring her view of her colleagues. The pounding beat of music echoed her hearts frantic rhythm. An all-too-familiar sense of terror washed through her, paralyzing her limbs. Megan fought for a calming breath.
On some level, she realized this was a birthday prank. But the raw memories of other handcuffs, another fake policeman, and a desperate battle for her life erased any humor in her colleagues ploy.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to shake off the haunting images that flickered through her mind. Just as she drew a reinforcing breath and peeked up at the faux officer, he ripped his shirt open and leaned dangerously close to her.
Her attacker pinned her wrists with one hand while he tore at her shirt with the other. Her scream tangled with the sound of ripping fabric.
Megan flinched and kept her eyes shut. Her anxiety snowballed, choking the air from her lungs. A fresh surge of the anguish shed
disposal. Her lethally trained protector.
Hey, Sam. Give me a minute to change clothes, and well go for our walk, okay? Sam responded with a bark that could only be interpreted as Yes!
After throwing on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, Megan took Sams leash from the hook beside the back door. Sam pranced and circled her with unrestrained exuberance.
Hold still! I cant hook your leash with you wiggling around like that.
Sam woofed, and if she hadnt known better, shed have sworn the dog grinned at her. The corner of her mouth lifted in bittersweet response, and a fresh lump of emotion clogged her throat. You crazy dog. What would I do without you?
Wiggling loose and scratching at the door, Sam seemed to say, Yeah, yeah. Enough of that. Lets cruise!
With a deep cleansing breath, Megan shoved down her maudlin thoughts and unlocked the door for Sam. The late-August heat and inescapable Louisiana humidity hung in the air like a suffocating blanket. By the time shed walked one block with Sam, sweat beaded on Megans forehead and dampened her back. Despite the hot weather, she picked up the pace, hoping a little exercise might help clear her mind and exorcize the days demons. Sam loped along beside her, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth and his eyes bright with excitement.