Page 44 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

The ringing of the phone jolted Bree from sleep.

Blurry headed, she fumbled on the nightstand.

Holding the screen in front of her face, she tried to read it, blinked, then tried again.

She’d slept with her head on two pillows to minimize the swelling.

Between that and the judicious application of ice packs, her vision was clearer than when she’d gone to bed. Zucco’s number displayed on the screen.

“Ma’am, I just responded to a call from Barbara James’s address. She’s one of the three women who dated Troy Ryder. She’s all right, but someone tried to break into her house.”

Bree lowered the phone to check the time. Just after four thirty in the morning. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zucco answered.

“We’re on the way.” Bree ended the call and sat up too quickly. The room spun for a second, then settled.

Matt sat up. “Seriously, why not let me and Todd handle this?”

“No.” Bree knew she was being stubborn but didn’t care. It was her case and her county, and her responsibility to protect the citizens of it. “Todd shouldn’t leave Cady alone at night when she’s this close to delivering.”

“Then I’ll handle it.” Matt was already on his feet, stepping into his tactical cargo pants.

“No. I need to be there.” Bree went into the bathroom.

Operating on autopilot, she turned on the faucet to splash water on her face until a glance in the mirror reminded her of the splint on her nose.

Holy ... Her face ... Thank goodness the swelling wasn’t any worse.

But the bruising was another story. Just wow.

She glanced at an ancient tube of concealer, and a maniacal laugh started to rumble in her chest. She tamped it down.

Exhaustion and pain were wearing on her.

Keep it together.

No time to dwell. She brushed her teeth and applied deodorant. When she emerged, Matt took her place. His frown said he wasn’t happy with her but had accepted her determination.

She dressed and stuffed the bottle of ibuprofen in her pocket. Matt grabbed protein bars and water on the way through the kitchen.

The porch light stabbed Bree in the eyes. “You drive.”

Matt slid behind the wheel of the patrol car a deputy had dropped off. In the passenger seat, Bree contacted the deputy assigned to watch Troy Ryder. The deputy said that Troy hadn’t left his house all night, then confirmed his presence at home by ringing the bell.

“Stay on him,” Bree said.

Matt and Bree arrived at Barbara James’s house to find lights blazing from every window. Bree’s eyes had mostly adjusted, but she still didn’t love the brightness. They walked up to the front door. Inside, a large dog barked.

Zucco opened the door before they had time to knock. “Juarez came out here last night to warn her. He briefed me before he went off shift. The intruder attempted to gain entry through the back door.”

A short, stout Staffordshire terrier with a coat of blue-gray fur rushed them like a cannonball as they crossed the threshold.

“She’s friendly,” Zucco said. “Her name is Meatball.”

Matt shifted to move in front of her, but Bree motioned for him to stop.

She appreciated his protective nature, but if he stepped in every time she faced a strange dog, she would never truly feel recovered from her past. She braced herself as the staffie sniffed her feet, its tail whipping back and forth.

She was built more like a sausage than a meatball, but Bree relaxed at her soft body posture.

She held out a tentative hand. Meatball dropped to the ground and presented her belly. Bree crouched and gave it a quick rub. As she stood, she spotted a small pile of empty beverage cans by the door.

The dog followed as the deputy led them into a kitchen, where a slim woman of about forty sat on a stool, her hands wrapped around a can of sparkling water. She wore flannel pajama bottoms, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sheepskin booties. A canister of pepper spray sat on the table next to her drink.

Zucco introduced them. The dog went to the woman and lay on the floor at her feet. More empty cans were lined up on the counter.

Barbara gaped at Bree. “Are you all right?”

Bree’s hand unconsciously went to her nose splint. She looked truly terrible if the crime victim was concerned for her.

“It looks worse than it is,” Bree said. “What happened?”

Barbara cleared her throat. She lifted the can to her lips and took a small sip, as if fortifying herself against reliving the memory.

“A deputy knocked on my door around ten thirty. Scared the hell out of me. I thought someone died.” She breathed and sipped.

“If my brother wasn’t out of town, I would have gone to stay with him.

But he’s in Aruba.” She reached down and scratched the dog.

“Which is why Meatball is staying with me.” She paused to lean over and kissed the staffie on the top of her broad head. “Thank God.”

“The dog alerted you?” Matt guessed.

“Yes. After the deputy’s visit, I was on edge, you know, tossing and turning.

I checked every window and door to make sure the house was locked up tight.

I don’t have a security system. I raided my recycling discards and stacked empty cans against the doors.

That way, at least I’d be warned if someone broke in.

I took my pepper spray to bed with us too.

Around three forty-five, the dog’s head went up.

I didn’t hear anything, but Meatball is usually a sound sleeper.

Not much bothers her, so I knew something was up.

” She exhaled, wrapping her fingers around the can.

“We went out into the kitchen. I saw a shadow through the glass. Meatball went ballistic, barking, growling, throwing herself at the door.” She pointed.

“You can see the scratches.” She shuddered.

“She’s never done anything like that before. ”

Bree studied the back door. The top half of the door was glass panes. On the bottom half, scratch marks showed where the dog had clawed through the white paint to the wood underneath.

Barbara continued. “The shadow disappeared. I heard someone running away. If the deputy hadn’t stopped by earlier, Meatball and I might have been sleeping harder.

We might not have heard. They might have gotten in.

” Her hand strayed to the dog again. “I didn’t think Meatball had it in her.

Usually, she’s the calmest dog. She loves everybody she meets.

But she would have tried to protect me, and maybe they would have hurt her.

” She met Bree’s gaze. “So I owe your department a huge thanks.”

“Someone tried to pry open the back door.” Zucco went to the kitchen door and opened it. The door had a sturdy dead bolt, not an easily pickable knob lock. Deep gouges showed where the intruder had used a tool, maybe a crowbar, to try to force the door open. “They didn’t count on the dog.”

Who isn’t usually here.

Bree went outside onto the patio and scanned the yard.

Matt followed, turning on his flashlight and playing the beam across the grass and shrubs.

Barbara’s neighborhood was on the edge of Grey’s Hollow town proper.

The lots were small, but mature trees and foliage provided plenty of privacy.

No one would have seen a person at Barbara’s back door.

Bree clicked on her own flashlight, and they searched the ground.

A stamped concrete walkway led all the way around the side of the house to the driveway.

The chain-link fence gate didn’t have a lock, just a U-shaped latch.

Metal scraped softly as Matt lifted it. The gate opened with a faint squeak.

They walked through the side yard to the driveway without their boots leaving concrete.

Matt said, “No point looking for footprints. The intruder could have parked anywhere and walked here.”

“Agreed.”

They checked the rest of the doors and windows. Matt shined his light on a window above the air-conditioning unit. “I see scratches on the frame. Looks like they tried to get in here first but couldn’t get the window open.”

The house was elevated by several steps. Without the AC, reaching the other windows would have required a ladder.

Bree and Matt walked down the driveway to the sidewalk and scanned the street.

Most of the driveways were short and narrow, barely wide enough to fit one car.

Vehicles parked along the street on both sides of the lane.

A line of trees grew between the sidewalk and road.

Spreading branches blocked much of the light from overhead streetlamps.

Visibility was poor overall. It was a great setup for sneaking around without being seen.

Bree focused on the front of Barbara’s house.

“I’ll have Zucco dust the gate latch and back doorknob for fingerprints.

” She would follow procedure but felt the futility in the act.

She didn’t have much hope of finding anything.

If the attempted intruder was the same person who had killed Kelly and Janet, they weren’t new at committing crimes. They knew enough to wear gloves.

Lights illuminated the windows of the house next door. Bree saw two men standing behind the glass of their storm door. “Looks like the neighbors are up. Let’s see if they saw anything.”

The men in their fifties stepped out onto their front stoop as Bree and Matt approached. Both men went wide-eyed at Bree’s face but were too polite to say anything. Bree introduced herself and Matt.

“I’m John.” The blond man tapped the redhead on the arm. “This is my husband, Gary.”

Bree gestured to Barbara’s house. “Someone tried to break into your neighbor’s house tonight. Did you see anyone?”

“No,” said John. “But I’m a super light sleeper, and I heard the dog barking next door. A couple of minutes later, a car engine started up and drove away. I got up and looked out the front window, but I guess whoever it was had gone by then.”

“I slept through the whole thing.” Gary lifted an apologetic shoulder.

“Do you have a doorbell camera?” Bree asked.

“We do.” John turned and pointed to it. “But we turned off the motion camera. There’s too much foot traffic here, and it goes off nonstop. Besides, this is a quiet block. Nothing ever happens.”

Until tonight.

“Did you notice any unusual activity in the neighborhood recently?” Matt asked.

“No.” John shook his head.

“How about this evening? Anyone you didn’t recognize walking? A vehicle cruising too slowly down the street?”

“Sorry. It’s too cold for me to be outside.

In the winter, I rarely leave the house after I get home from work.

” John lifted his phone and read the screen.

“It’s almost six. No point in trying to sleep.

Tell Barbara we’re up. I’m making coffee and breakfast. She and Meatball shouldn’t be alone over there. ”

Bree agreed. “Thank you. I will.” She and Matt turned away.

Lights shone from the windows of several houses.

People were rising. The sun would be up in an hour.

“I’ll get a deputy out here to knock on doors.

Maybe someone else on the street saw a strange vehicle or has a camera that covers the street. ”

“We don’t even know where they might have parked,” Matt pointed out.

“We have to keep trying.” Frustration bubbled through Bree as thick and nasty as black tar. “I’m calling in additional deputies to canvass the area and dust for prints. We’re going to see Marina Maxwell.”