Page 56 of Keeping Knight

Something’s wrong.

Heading back into the hallway, I slide my phone from my pocket to check the security app again. The notification is gone, and for the briefest moment, my brain tricks me into thinking it was all just a dream.

It makes sense, that stubbornly optimistic voice reasons. You’ve already been worried about Ruby. And after everything at the station yesterday, of course worries would be fresh in your mind. Maybe the alarm never went off at all. And you’ll find Ruby in the kitchen, making some tea to help her get back to sleep.

But then the app loads, and the latest notification is right there at the top.

Front door open. Motion detected.

The bands around my chest draw tighter. So tight, it’s hard to breathe past them.

Did she leave? Or did someone come in?

Could someone have gotten inside?

Pace picking up, I hurry from Ruby’s room, my gun held low and ready in my right hand, the phone clutched in my left. I make a cursory check of the third bedroom on my way to the stairs, but as expected, there’s no one in there.

My attention keeps shifting from the phone to my surroundings and back again. It’s surprisingly hard to concentrate. My thoughts keep bouncing from one terrible scenario to the next. Ruby was taken. Ruby was hurt. I’m going to find her lifeless body in the living room only minutes too late.

I promised I’d keep her safe. And already, I failed.

Jabbing at the screen harder than necessary, I bring up the feed from the camera just outside the front door. It defaults to live mode at first, so I have to scroll back to the time the alert sounded.

Not willing to stop moving for even a few seconds to watch, I hurry downstairs with one eye on the screen. Just as I reach the first floor, the video begins playing.

At first, there’s nothing but an empty hallway. It’s well-lit, as usual, with the wall lamps reflecting on the glossy marble floor. With the advantage of a one-eighty camera view, I can see the elevator doors gleaming at the end of the hallway, fully closed.

Just as I’m about to hit the timeframe when the door opened, a low woof catches my attention. Glancing up, I spot Sampson standing on the opposite side of the living room, his body tense and ears tucked back as he watches the front door.

The open front door.

“Shit!” I bite out. Fear explodes in my chest.

Not a false alarm. I didn’t think it would be, but a small part still hoped.

“Sampson,” I say, keeping my voice low, but commanding. He casts a quick glance over his shoulder at me, but almost immediately turns his attention back to the door.

He’s guarding, just as he’s supposed to. He knows never to leave the condo without me, no matter the circumstances. But shit. If Ruby’s out there…

“Where’s Ruby?” I ask. “Where’d she go?”

He flicks another look at me. Then he woofs again.

As I approach the front door, I turn my attention back to the video feed. In the time I spent talking to Sampson, the activity I was looking for has passed. So I have to rewind the damn thing again, cursing myself as I do it.

If something happened to her because I’m standing here, screwing around with the damn app…

Then I see it.

Just minutes before.

My front door shoves open, and Ruby bursts into the hallway.

She’s in her pajamas—a pair of little shorts and an old Army T-shirt I lent her that she’s yet to give back to me. Her hair springs up in unruly curls. Her feet are bare.

She pauses once she gets through the door, first looking one way, then the other. Then she takes off to the left, away from the elevator.

When she turns, I catch a glimpse of her face. She looks scared. Panicked. But her gaze is unfocused, almost like she doesn’t know where she is.