Me:Myhome.
I tossed my phone into my purse, not looking at his next text. I climbed with Hound on my heels before heading up the stairs to the front door. Opening it, I stepped inside and looked around. It appeared the same, but again, that empty feeling grew. It told me that this wasn’t the place I should be.
I strode over to the coffee table at the sight of the worn, black rope lying there. I’d forgotten all about the line when I packed up my clothing to stay with Micah. Seeing the string reminded me of our first encounter as children. Micah’s words in his office rang in my ears. The stern expression on his face as he explained he hid the truth from me to keep me safe taunted me.
“Maybe he had a point?” I said, looking down at Hound.
No response.
Shrugging, I tossed the rope back onto the table. I began thinking I possibly overreacted. After driving around for some time after storming out of Micah’s office, I finally decided to come back to the house. It was getting late, but there were at least a couple of hours of light left in the day.
“We’ll hang out here for a little while and then decide what to do, okay?” I informed Hound as if he got a vote.
Glad to see the peanut butter and jelly I’d left behind were still around, along with some crackers, I scrounged up a light dinner and prepared a bowl for Hound from the leftover food that I had at my place.
“Let’s enjoy this outside,” I said, waving my head toward the sliding glass door for Hound to follow. I punched the security code to turn off the alarm.
I sat out, facing the spacious backyard, and without cause began comparing this view to the one from Micah’s place. Guilt swelled in my chest. This view wasn’t a bad one, by far, but it still fell short to Micah’s.
I sighed, chewing my dinner without really tasting it until my knee brushed up against something underneath the table.
“What’s this?” I felt underneath the table and stuck my head underneath, gasping when I saw what it was. I removed the old school recording device taped to the underside of the porch table.
Frowning, I stared at the recorder, wondering what the heck it was doing there. I moved my thumb to the play button after seeing there was a tape inside but never got the chance to press it.
“I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for so long,” a lethal voice sneered from behind me.
I leapt to my feet, pressing the record button before dropping the recorder to my chair and standing in my on-guard position, my body poised to defend myself.
My confidence waned a little when I saw a gun trained on me. I let my gaze rise the length of the man wielding the weapon. “Deputy McDowell.” The same deputy who I’d met my first night back. Except for this time, he wasn’t in uniform. He was dressed in all black, looking like the consummate bad guy with leather gloves and, of course, the gun.
He gave me a satisfied look. “Ms. Taylor. You should’ve stayed your ass in New York.”
I gave him a taunting smile. “Then you and I wouldn’t be having this encounter. What would’ve been the fun in that?”
Glaring at me, he moved closer, from inside of the kitchen. He must’ve entered the front door of the house after I turned off the alarm system.
“You think you’re fucking tough. Your grandaddy thought so, too. I showed his ass tough like I’m about to show you.”
“What did you do to my grandfather?” I demanded to know.
His smile was sinister, and my hands balled at my sides.
“That old man didn’t know what was good for him. He did too much snooping around, and I had to shut him up with his pills and some alcohol. To make it look like a suicide. Was a bitch to force those pills down his throat. Fucker bit me, but I managed.”
“Fuck you. I’m going to— Hound no!” I yelled as Hound finally emerged from the backyard where he’d been running around and jumped in front of me, charging at McDowell.
I screamed when the bang of a single gunshot rang out. My heart moved up to my throat when Hound’s growling transformed into a yelp of pain. I ran to him as he collapsed to the floor inside of the kitchen.
“No. What did you do?” I yelled from my kneeling position, my hands covered in Hound’s blood.
“Fucking dog bit me,” McDowell yelled. “Let’s go.” He moved to me, grabbing me by my shirt to stand.
I bristled, trying to push his hand away, but that was when he held the hot end up the gun to my temple.
“Bitch, don’t try any of that funny shit you tried on my brother. I killed him over this shit, and I’ll kill you, too.”
Hearing the seriousness of the threat in his voice, I stilled. I glanced down, staring at a lifeless Hound as McDowell pulled me away.
