Somebody was in her shanty.
She paused just inside the bedroom door. Soft footsteps sounded against the floor as they came closer to her bedroom. Who? Who was out there?
Was it her mother’s murderer coming back for her? A cold chill slithered up her spine. Terror rose in the back of her throat, making it difficult for her to draw a deep breath.
She didn’t have a weapon, but had no intention of just standing and letting whatever danger was out there come to her. At least she had the element of surprise on her side. The person wouldn’t know that she had awakened.
Drawing in a deep breath, she whirled out of the bedroom. In the moonlight that drifted in through the windows she had only a moment to process that the intruder was dressed all in black and wore a ski mask.
It was only when Angelique rushed toward the person that she saw the glint of a knife in the intruder’s gloved hands. She halted in her tracks. “Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded.
There was no answer other than the person stepping closer to Angelique. The person jabbed out with the knife, and Angelique danced sideways to keep from getting cut.
Frantically she thought of the room and what could be used as a weapon. She screamed in pain as the knife slashed her arm. She kicked out in an effort to keep the attacker at bay. Another swipe of the knife slashed her once again on her arm.
Again, Angelique kicked her legs, hoping to catch the intruder with a solid blow. As she kicked, she slowly moved toward the potbellied stove in the corner of the room.
It was obvious the trespasser intended to stab her to death. Without a weapon of her own, her death was a very strong possibility. The fear inside her was a living, breathing entity. She also knew any screams for help she released would go unheard as the nearest shanty was too far away.
Once she was backed up against the stove, she fumbled in the darkness and released a deep gasp of relief as her fingers closed around the fireplace poker.
She pulled it up and out and wielded it like a sword, slashing it through the air and successfully backing up the intruder. The knife was sharp, but the poker was long and sturdy. As if knowing the balance of power was now in Angelique’s favor, the person turned and ran out the front door.
Angelique ran to the door, slammed it shut and locked it. However, she immediately saw that the window next to the doorwas broken. Once the window was broken, all the person had to do was reach in, unlock the door and walk right in, which was obviously what he or she had done.
None of that mattered now as fear continued to half choke her and blood ran down her arm from the two slashing wounds she’d sustained.
The police. She ran to the bedroom and grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand and then returned to the living room with the poker still in her hand. She needed the police here. She needed…she wanted Daniel here as soon as possible.
She called his number and he answered on the first ring. “LeCroix,” he said.
“Daniel, somebody just broke into my shanty and attacked me,” she said and then burst into tears.
Chapter Four
Daniel’s heart beat wildly as he got into his patrol car and headed for the swamp. Two patrol cars and an ambulance followed him as he raced to get to Angelique.
He had heard the raw fear in her tearful, quivering voice. The only information he’d gotten was that she was safe at the moment. It was two o’clock in the morning, and thank God the streets were empty, letting him speed faster than he normally would.
Why would somebody attack Angelique? Was this somehow tied to her mother’s murder? Why had Mystique been murdered? Who would have a beef with Mystique’s daughter?
He tightened his grip on his steering wheel as a wave of deep frustration swept through him. But the main emotion that rose inside him was a deep, nearly overwhelming concern for Angelique.
Finally, they arrived at the swamp’s entrance and Daniel quickly exited his car. There were three night duty cops with him as well as the two EMTs. They all had heavy-duty flashlights, and they quickly began the trek into Angelique’s place with Daniel in the lead.
Daniel moved fast, needing to get to Angelique as quickly as possible. He heard the others struggling to keep up, but that didn’t make him slow down.
The fact that she’d called told him she was safe, but he had no idea if she’d been hurt. A deep worry pressed tight against his chest. Dammit, he should have asked her more questions whilehe’d had her on the phone, but she’d been crying so hard and his only thought had been to get to her as soon as possible.
Finally, the shanty came into view. Light spilled out the front window, a window where a pane by the front door appeared to be broken. He raced across the bridge and to the door. It was locked. “Angelique, it’s me…open the door. It’s me, Daniel.”
The door flew open and she stood before him. She was achingly pale and clad in a hot pink nightshirt. She had a white-knuckle hold on a fireplace poker. Her eyes were tear filled and blood ran down one of her arms. She appeared to be in a state of shock.
“Angelique, give me the poker,” he said softly. “Give me the poker, honey.”
She looked at the poker as if she’d never seen it before. She held it out to him and then began to cry once again. He handed the poker to Jeffrey Cookingham, one of the night duty officers, then he took Angelique by her elbow and led her to the sofa.
“It’s okay…you’re safe now,” he said softly and motioned for the two EMTs to approach her. “Angelique, I see you’re hurt on your arm. Do you have any other injuries?”
