He removed the screen, lifted the window more, then hoisted himself up inside.
That was too easy in his mind and was waiting for a trap.
Clay moved through the house listening for any noises.
There was a clicking sound down the hall. Sounded like typing. Was the guy here working?
This was just bizarre. But nothing about this situation made sense to him.
He made his way up the stairs, found the one door that was shut, picked the lock and opened it.
Meredith’s mouth opened and he put his finger to his lips and shook his head, his hand going out to halt her.
He moved closer, she gave him a hug. He returned it briefly and whispered in her ear, “Don’t make a sound.”
“Are we leaving?” she whispered back.
“No,” he said. “I’m staying in here with you. I don’t think I can get you out without him knowing.”
She couldn’t be as quiet as him. She’d probably stumble down the stairs in her rush to escape. He could take the guy when he came into the room.
“I can,” she urgently whispered. “I don’t want to stay here. He’s crazy, Clay. I had no idea. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“You’re safe,” he said. “I’ve got you. You need to trust me.”
She was looking at his face. There was black on it to go with his dark clothing. He knew she felt the gun at his waist.
“I don’t want you hurt,” she whispered. “We both should leave. Please. I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. No one ever had, other than his family. The feeling those words delivered weighed on his shoulders.
Maybe it was best to get her out of here. She didn’t need to see the violence that he was capable of.
“We can’t stay here. He’s crazy. He drugged me. His moods are all over the place. I don’t know who this person is.”
Clay wanted to go down and break every bone in the guy’s body for the trauma that Meredith had been put through, but he wouldn’t subject her to that. Which meant if they stayed here, she’d see it too and he didn’t want her to witness it.
“If we do this, you need to move slowly. Pretend you’re walking on glass.”
She nodded her head. There were only socks on her feet. He didn’t see shoes anywhere and there wasn’t time for them to look.
“I can do it.”
“When I get you out of the back door, you run to the west toward my truck.”
“West?” she asked.
“To the left. As you run out of the driveway, go to the left. My truck is behind trees.” He put the fob to it in her hand. “Drive away.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
He let out a breath, his hand squeezing her waist. “Trust me, my brother will be on his way.”
He had no doubt Ford would figure it out soon. Probably on his way now. He might have a thirty-minute head start before backup would be on the way. If he was lucky.
He wasn’t waiting around for his brother to knock on the door with his warrant. If he was even able to get one.
They made their way toward the stairs, his body a shield to hers, his gun in his right hand now.
