Page 45 of Shadowed Witness (The Secrets of Kincaid #2)

“I stabbed him.”

Eric blinked. “You what?” Not much surprised him, but Allye was doing a good job of it tonight.

“With my knitting needle. I had it beside me and grabbed it when I heard him coming in. I didn’t exactly plan to, but when he came after me...” She swallowed.

What would a knitting needle wound look like?

He pictured the sticks he’d seen her pull out on multiple occasions.

Sometimes he’d seen her work with short wooden ones, other times with a long metal version that he’d estimate at about a foot long.

Neither was an ideal weapon, but they could inflict some damage—especially the long ones.

“Where did you stab him?”

The color drained from her face again. “His chest or maybe his shoulder? It happened too fast, and like I said, I didn’t plan it.”

“What did he do then? How did he react?”

“He yelled. But he let go of me, so I ran.”

“Did you keep hold of the needle?”

“No, I just ran. I think it stuck there, but I heard it hit the floor after I took off, so he must have pulled it out.” Her pale cheeks took on a greenish tinge.

“Allye, you were protecting yourself. It’s okay.

” He didn’t mind pressing a criminal, but a victim was a different story—especially Allye.

But he needed to wrap this case up fast. Before she really got hurt.

He cleared his throat. “Where were you when that happened? I’ll need to take the needle as evidence if he left it behind. ”

“Near the doorway between the living room and kitchen. Can you—can you get DNA from it?”

“We’ll try, but no guarantee it’ll go anywhere.

DNA often doesn’t.” If it penetrated or even scraped the skin, they might have enough for a DNA test. He wouldn’t hold his breath on the results, but there was always a chance their guy would be in the system.

The wait time was a serious pain though.

And if the guy wasn’t in the system, it would be a dead end anyway.

Her hopeful expression faded, and he hated that he’d dampened that hope.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky though. If we can get a good sample and he’s in the system, it’ll show.

” Regardless, he’d do his best to have her intruder behind bars long before DNA results could come back.

“All right.” He stood and pulled on gloves.

Time to see what evidence was left behind. “Walk me through.”

She led him back to the living room and leaned against a bookshelf while he surveyed the space. He found the knitting needle and slipped it into an evidence bag.

He eyed the coffee table and shattered glass. “This happen when he came after you?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe he ran into it when he was running from Cornell?”

Or he’d flipped it in hopes of slowing Cornell down.

He moved on to the door. “He entered by the front?”

“Yes.”

Interesting. The back door would have provided more protection from passersby. But then again, it was well after midnight. He examined the locks. Neither the dead bolt nor the doorknob showed obvious signs of tampering.

“Did you have the dead bolt locked?”

“I think so?” Her face screwed up in thought.

“Especially until this is resolved, you’re going to have to make sure to keep the dead bolt thrown.”

“I know. And I’ve been trying to remember, but I’ve been so tired and off my game with this...” She spread her hands and waved them in a helpless gesture. “With everything.”

“I understand, but do your best. Maybe you could look into getting an alarm system installed too.”

“Not sure I can afford one right now.”

He got that. Didn’t like it, but it was reality for a lot of people.

They moved on to the rest of the house. He followed her through the kitchen and down the hallway toward her bedroom. The light was already on when they entered, and he took in the rumpled bedspread and the clothes tossed over a chair.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“No problem.” He continued to scan the room. When he turned to face the door, a dark object caught his eye. “What’s this?” He knelt to get a better look. A full-size handgun rested next to a pair of discarded shoes. He looked up at Allye. “I’m assuming this isn’t yours.”

She shook her head, wide-eyed. “No. I did hear something fall after I hit him with the bat, but I’d forgotten.”

He turned his attention to the baseball bat lying on the floor nearby. “That bat?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to take it as well. We might find trace evidence on it.”

She twisted a lock of her hair. “Will I get it back? It was Derryck’s.” Her voice softened as she mentioned the younger brother she’d lost.

“Yes.”

She gave him permission, and he collected both it and the gun. He wouldn’t hold out hope the firearm was registered to the intruder, but it might give them something to go on—fingerprints if they were fortunate.

They returned to the kitchen, and he placed the evidence bags on the table while she propped herself against the counter.

“Do you need anything else from me?” Allye asked.

“Not at the moment.” He studied her. She looked ready to drop. “Have you called your family yet?”

She shook her head. “It’s so late. I’ll tell them tomorrow.”

“You need to call someone. You can’t stay here alone anymore.” Not without better precautions in place.

“I don’t have much choice. I’m not going to carry the danger to my family, and this is my home.”

“Then let me stay with you.”

She stared at him.

He held up his hands. “No strings attached, and it’s just for tonight or until we come up with a better option. I’ll keep watch from the living room, and you can go to bed.”

“I won’t be sleeping anymore tonight,” she said quietly.

“Fair enough. But you still shouldn’t be alone. He could come back.”

She opened her mouth. She was going to argue, he could see it.

“Please, Allye. Let me keep you safe.”

She turned her back to him and braced her hands on the countertop, tilting her head to stare at the ceiling. Finally, she released a sigh and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Okay.”

AFTER ERIC RIGHTED HER COFFEE TABLE and she’d swept up the broken glass, they settled into the living room—him on the couch and her in the recliner. She thought about starting a movie, but if they were going to spend hours together, she might as well get some answers first.

“I want to know something.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you get so angry at me yesterday?”

His gaze dropped to the fresh cup of coffee she’d insisted on pouring for him. “I shouldn’t have. It was totally uncalled for.”

She agreed, but—“That’s not what I asked.” She wished he would look at her.

“You scared me.”

She’d figured that much. When he didn’t elaborate, she sighed. Looked like she was going to have to drag it out of him. She tapped a nail against the side of her teacup. “How?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he looked like he was debating whether to share.

She waited. She knew his apology had been sincere, but she needed to get to the root of why he’d blown up in the first place.

If he wasn’t willing to do that—to be honest with himself and her—she wouldn’t be able to trust him with more than a surface friendship.

Finally, his expression changed. He’d come to a decision. When he spoke, his tone was clinical. “My dad died when I was fourteen. Overdose. I found him in his favorite chair. Thought he was passed out.”

Allye’s chest ached. “But he was . . .”

“Dead.” Eric finally met her gaze. The pain shimmering in his eyes didn’t match his detached narration. “He played around one too many times, and it took him.” His fingers flexed. “Mom said he died doing what he loved.”

Allye couldn’t stop her gasp.

He gave her a weak smile. “Yeah. She was high when she gave his eulogy.” He pursed his lips. “But she wasn’t lying.”

“Oh, Eric. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who overreacted.

I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I saw you lying there unresponsive, and I thought whoever’s been breaking into your house may have hurt you.

Then when I found the pills before I had time to wrap my brain around the fact you were fine.

..” He shook his head. “I didn’t realize until long after I drove off that it was more a PTSD reaction than a logical one.

” He stared across the room at the darkened TV.

Time stretched like the space between them. Eventually, Allye couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed her teacup and moved to the couch, leaving a little room between them. But not too much.

“Tell me about that day.”

His jaw tightened. Would he clam up? Or would he risk letting her in? Seconds ticked by. Just as she was about to give up hope, he drew in a sharp breath and started talking.

“He’d promised he was clean, that he was going to make up for lost time. We were supposed to head to the gym that morning, get a membership, and start a workout routine. Together.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Apparently, he decided he needed one last hit first.”

Allye couldn’t help herself. She slipped her hand over his and felt relief when he intertwined his fingers with hers. “Where was your mom?”

“Jail.” No mistaking his disgust. “Minor charge. She was out in time for the funeral, but my grandpa took me in. Told my mom to get her act together or he’d sue for permanent custody.”

She was almost afraid to ask, but she did anyway. “Did she?”

“Only around tax time.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Gramps told her to take a hike.”

“Where is she now?”

“No idea.”

“You haven’t forgiven them, have you?”

He blinked slowly. “The best I can do is not think about them.”

She squeezed his hand. “But it still eats at you. And it will until you forgive them.”

“Easy for you to say.” He withdrew his hand.

She flinched. Maybe not the best time to tackle this subject. Too late. She lifted her teacup and cradled it between her hands.

“Not really.” She took a sip. The cooled liquid slid soothingly down her throat. “I had to forgive the guy who caused the car accident that killed Derryck. The terrorist who blew up my dad in Afghanistan.”

Eric’s expression softened. “Point taken.” Not exactly an apology, but she hadn’t been fishing for one. His jaw worked. “I’m a little broken, Allye. Maybe a lot broken. I’ve got a lot of baggage, and I’m jaded when it comes to trusting people.”

“I’m broken too. I think everyone is to some extent.” And she wasn’t just talking about her health. “Maybe the more important thing is that we do the hard work and let God mend those broken places.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He gave a slow nod and finally turned to face her again. “So where does that leave us?”

“Is there an us?” She realized that’s what she really wanted, but she needed to know they were on the same page.

“I’d like there to be. Can you give me another chance?”

“Yes.”