The next turn was an unmarked dirt track on the left side of the road. He drove down it, branches whipping the sides of his SUV. Two hundred yards in, there was an old A-frame that looked like it had been built in the 1970s and hadn’t seen a lick of paint since. There were no cars, no dogs, no signs of life. The curtains were all closed. If Jordan were the one running, this would have been exactly what he wanted.
He felt the seconds ticking as he scanned the weedy yard.
Then he realized the porch light was on. It was just an old-fashioned incandescent bulb, hard to tell in the sunlight. Someone unfamiliar with the light switch array could easily have flipped it by accident without realizing.
Just in case she was watching, Jordan shifted into reverse and backed up until he couldn’t see the house. Then he turned off the car and got out.
Slipping into the scrubby trees, he headed toward the house again, walking in a wide semicircle until he could approach it from the hill behind. When he looked down, he saw where a pane of glass had been punched out of the rusted steel door, right above the doorknob.
Going alone into a house where an escaped prisoner was hiding was unnecessarily risky. It was also just plain stupid. Jordan knew he would be furious with any of his deputies boneheaded enough to try it. Both official procedure and common sense demanded he call for backup so they could surround the house and order the escapee to come out with her hands in plain sight. For all he knew, she was a cold-blooded killer.
But he didn’t want to call even a single deputy away from the highway as long as there was a chance Bree might come outof the wreck alive. The road would need to be cleared, and the ambulance would need an escort. He was pretty sure he had the element of surprise.
And the only one who could reprimand him if this went wrong was his wife, Amber. Because Jordan was the goddamn sheriff.
He just hoped the homeowner didn’t leave loaded firearms lying around.
Drawing his own gun, he approached the house, zigzagging from tree to tree. On the porch, he saw the small stick of kindling that had been used to break the glass.
The door’s handle turned easily. Shielding himself behind the heavy wooden doorjamb, he swung it inward, waited for a response, then risked a quick look inside.
The place looked like a weekend home or a rental. He saw cast-off furniture, magazines with curling pages, dust spinning in the shaft of light from the doorway.
He slipped inside, careful not to frame himself against the light, and put his back to the wall as he swept the room.
He heard water running. A shower.
When he heard her singing, he almost laughed with relief.
Crossing to a bedroom door, he saw a dresser with drawers askew and a closet with its door hanging open. The prisoner’s selections were lying on the bed next to a dirty orange jumpsuit marked with a crimson streak of blood.
Don’t go chasin’ waterfalls, she sang.Do do do do do-do do de dah dah dah dah-dah-dah.
Jordan hesitated. His suspect was cornered and completely defenseless. She was also naked, which added an unwanted degree of complexity. It was the kind of story that went viral:Couldn’t he let her get dressed?? Cop cuffs naked suspect!!Like the average idiot with two thumbs and a YouTube account had ever been in the line of fire.
Before he could decide, his radio crackled. Beto giving Gracia an update. He heard a voice from the shower as he fumbled to mute it.
“Oh,shit!”
No time. He kicked open the door. “This is the sheriff. Put your hands in the air!”
Two hands appeared above the shower rod. She was Black, he noted.
“Officer, I amnotcoming out naked!”
The water continued to run as he kept his gun barrel locked on what he guessed was center mass. What now? There were situations no amount of training could prepare you for.
With his left hand, he grabbed a towel and threw it into the shower. “Dry yourself off.”
There was movement behind the shower curtain as she turned off the water and started to dry herself off.
“I need another towel for my hair.”
“Do the best you can,” he told her, backing up through the doorway to remain out of reach. “And remember, I’ve got a gun on you.”
“All the more reason to give me an extra towel. When you get a look at this fine body, that gun in your hand is liable to go off.”
“Ma’am, I’m married and I have a teenage daughter. They tie up the bathroom every day, and I haven’t shot either one of them yet.”
