“Go get in my car and call the police.”
“Come with me,” I implore, backing away, but he’s already opening the glass door and stepping inside the house.
Instead of going to his car, I stand in the driveway in clear view of the front door. The split second I take my eyes off him to dial 911 from my phone, Boone disappears, and the panic I felt before returns, making me recognize that it subsided for a fleeting moment when I realized Boone was here and I felt safe.
“911, what’s the location of your emergency?”
“32059 Idlewild. There’s someone in my house.”
“Who’s in your house, ma’am?”
“I don’t know, I only heard them.”
“Okay. I have a unit heading to your address. Where are you in the house?”
“I’m outside.”
“Is there anyone else in the house?”
“Yes, Boone, he went in when I ran outside.”
“He went in to check for the intruder? Dispatch, be aware there is someone else in the house.”
“Yes, I told him not to, but he went anyway. He’s an FBI agent.”
“An FBI agent?” She sounds doubtful.
“Yes, he’s my… He’s helping me with my sister’s case. Please hurry. I can’t see him anymore.”
“You can’t see the agent or the intruder?”
“Both. How much longer?”
“They are on the way, ma’am. Stay on the line. Dispatch, be advised caller is indicating an FBI agent entered the house to check for an intruder. Ma’am, is the agent armed?”
“I don’t know. Can you please hurry? Oh, I see him. He’s coming out.”
“Ma’am—”
I pull the phone from my ear as Boone walks out of the front door, his brow furrowed.
“Are you okay?” I rush toward him.
“Are you still on the phone?”
I look down then nod before remembering to put the phone back to my ear. Boone motions for me to hand it over to him.
I don’t even hesitate. “Hello, this is Special Agent Boone Landry. I’m off duty and visiting a friend. I checked the house and didn’t see any evidence of an intruder. You can tell them to disregard.”
“What?” I look at the door, knowing what I heard and felt. Someone was in the house.
“Yeah, we will be here,” Boone says while looking into my face. His expression is guarded. I know that look. It’s the same one I would give my sister when she told me something I didn’t believe.
I take a step back. “I heard them. The doorknob turned. What about the file?” I add hastily.
“No problem,” he says before hanging up my phone and handing it back to me. “They are going to come by and check things out,” he tells me gently.
“Someone was there,” I defend.
