Page 36 of Unexpected Danger (Mountain Justice #2)
Brodie took a call about a possible missing horse being sighted in the yard at a house owned by a Renee Corker.
It wasn’t often he had to deal with horse thievery.
He chuckled as he thought of how it was reminiscent of something out of the Wild West. Speaking of which, he’d plopped his cowboy hat on his head and climbed into his service truck.
The woman accused of stealing the horse lived three miles outside of town in a white home with mold in every crevice of the siding.
He'd never been to this residence before, and based on what the outside looked like, he couldn't imagine the inside.
Four inoperable junked vehicles cluttered the driveway, along with an older model sedan with current plates.
A rusty generator, a dilapidated cupboard, a moldy cardboard box that was dented on one side, and a stack of tires lined the front yard.
A worn-out air conditioner missing a panel kicked on, and flies swarmed around ants beneath his feet and splatters of bird poop on the sidewalk leading to the porch.
Someone had tossed a discarded spray can to the side, and an abundance of weeds grew through cracks in the porch and throughout the rain gutter overhead.
He's seen hoarder places like this before, but never this bad. And he wasn’t even to the front door yet.
How could people even live like that? Fortunately for her, she lived outside city limits where ordinances didn’t apply.
The foul odor of feces, urine, and burned food assaulted him as he stepped up on the lone step and rang the bell. Nothing happened, so he knocked, then knocked a second time. Dogs barked, and he thought he heard one scratching at the door.
Unfortunately, Renee Corker either wasn’t home or she wasn't answering. It would necessitate a return visit. As he turned to leave, he thought he heard some light thudding from somewhere in the home. He investigated briefly, but neither saw nor heard anything further.
Brodie walked around to the side of the house. He cocked his ear toward a window. Was that someone talking?
Dogs barked again, drowning out whatever voices he may or may not have heard.
A horse in a derelict corral caught his attention.
He returned to the porch one more time, knocked, and when he heard nothing but dogs, he climbed back into his truck.
If that was the stolen horse in the yard, Renee Corker wouldn’t be keeping it forever.
He’d be back.
Dustin flicked a dog hair off his shirt. “I heard something thump in here. Was that you?”
Londyn shook her head and attempted to speak, but her words came out as warbled. Dustin untied and yanked the handkerchief from her mouth. The residual taste caused her to dry heave. “Pheh,” she said, slightly pushing her tongue forward while attempting to rid her mouth of the offensive taste.
Dustin smirked. “Did you need to say something?”
“Could I please use the restroom? I've been here for several hours.”
Dustin worked his jaw in a tight circle as if contemplating her request. What happened to wanting to rescue her? Would he fall for probably the oldest trick in the book?
“All right,” he finally said. “You'll need to make it quick.”
“Thank you.”
“You won’t thank me when you see the bathroom.” He blanched and made a gagging noise. “Just ignore the defecation on the toilet seat, the mold in every corner, the rabbit in the bathtub, and the clothes and mile-high piles of trash, and you’ll be fine.”
Londyn cringed. “That bad?”
“Worse. Let’s just say Renee is not the housecleaning type.
You’ll need a biohazard outfit.” He snorted and peered around him.
“Nothing like a hoarder’s paradise.” Dustin removed the binding from her hands and her feet.
“You have two minutes to take care of business.” He took a step back, and Londyn struggled to her feet.
Weakness threatened from having nothing to eat for so long, and her eyes burned from the allergies.
Determination and the will to survive emboldened her to achieve the goal she had in mind.
Her adversary watched her every move. How could she defer his attention from her? An idea percolated in her racing mind. “There is so much in here that Renee could sell and make good money on. Vintage items are all the rage,” she said, slowly trudging over the piles of junk.
“I don't think Renee cares if she makes money or not.”
“But, still, look at that old record player over there. That's like something that's even before our parents’ time.”
A shadow fell across Dustin’s face, and Londyn wondered about the relationship between him and his family. He'd never been forthright with information about them. Not even during their “friendship” in Rowland. “I wonder if that even still has a needle in it?”
“If you're so interested in it, why don't you walk over and look?” The record player was on the way to the door, stacked on top of several boxes and right beside the desk that held the bird cage and the darts, in addition to about three feet of other garbage.
She narrowly avoided stepping in fossilized dog feces as she tiptoed to the desk. She nudged the record player.
“This even has a record on it!”
“When did you become interested in old stuff?”
“I don't know, I just find it fascinating.” Londyn’s dry throat made it difficult to speak, and the places on her wrists and ankles where the rope had been were rubbed raw. She shoved her concerns aside. She needed her ruse to be successful.
Dustin had come to stand beside her as she inspected the record player. “I wonder if it works.”
“Who cares?”
She shrugged, then, mustering all of her strength and tenacity, Londyn grabbed the old bird cage, swung it around, and connected it with Dustin’s head.
“Owwwww!” He planted a hand on the desk and seethed. “You're going to pay for that, Londyn.”
Dustin was quick, but Londyn was quicker.
She stabbed him in the web of his hand with a dart before hitting him again with what appeared to be some sort of paperweight.
She scrambled from the room. There was no easy way to rush down the hall and to the front door, not with stacks and piles of debris, cardboard boxes, garbage, and an unusable toilet sitting in the middle of the room.
The dogs bounded toward her as she attempted to sidestep them.
Dustin sprinted after her. She stepped over a pile of old magazines and a bucket that had been used as a trash can. “Get back here, Londyn!”
She glanced back to see Dustin gaining on her as blood spurted from the wound on his head where she’d hit him with the paperweight.
“What’s going on, Dustin?” Renee asked.
“Get her!”
“I can’t really get her, Dustin. I’m in the middle of making omelets.”
“King!” Dustin shouted.
Londyn dodged a broken picture frame and an archaic vacuum. Dogs barked, and she saw King behind her, growling as he ran. He nipped at her leg.
She clasped the doorknob, flung open the door, and stepped out into daylight.
Brodie’s truck slowly exited the driveway.
“Brodie, wait!” Her legs threatened to give out beneath her.
Her lungs struggled with the fresh air after spending so much time held hostage in the hoarder house.
She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, thumping at a dangerous pace. “Brodie!”
The hot gravel burned her bare feet. When had she lost her shoes?
The unyielding fight within her urged her forward. Her parched throat ached from being gagged, yet she continued to yell, her voice competing with Dustin’s admonishment that she stop.
King tore at her pant leg, and she stumbled. Why didn’t Brodie stop?
Londyn stepped on something sharp, and the pain nearly stopped her in her tracks. Dustin grabbed for her arm, and she flung herself loose of his grasp.
“I’m coming, Dustin!” shouted Renee. “And I’ve got the frying pan.”
Dustin’s heavy breathing warned that he again drew closer. “Brodie!” Londyn’s ankle wobbled as she continued traversing the uneven ground, the rocks pricking her feet. She half-limped, half-ran while waving her arms in the air. Brodie had to stop. He had to.
“I said, stop, Londyn!” Dustin reached for her arm again, this time his nails digging into her skin. Brodie gave no indication he’d seen her. She couldn’t give up. Wouldn’t. “Lord, please,” she cried out. Urgency propelled her forward just as Dustin clamped a hold on her wrist.