Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,1
up. “You can chow down later. In the meantime, you and I are going to the basement.”
The white fluff ball began to squirm as if he’d been attacked by a band of marauding fleas.
Clearly the word basement did not conjure up positive vibes.
She set her cell on the counter and tightened her grip. “Sorry again, but that’s the best place for us until this is over.”
Negotiating the stairs with a wriggling fur ball in her arms was a challenge—but self-preservation was a powerful stabilizer.
At the bottom of the steps, she snapped on his leash, secured it to the rail, and set him on the floor.
“Chill, Ernie. We won’t be down here for—”
Bam! Bam! Bam!
She jerked, hand flying to her chest as the pounding on the back door reverberated through the quiet house.
Ernie whined, and she gave him a quick pat before starting back up to the main level. “Stay.”
Instead of following her order, the pup clambered up on her heels as far as the leash allowed, almost knocking her off balance in his frenzy to avoid banishment.
Tuning out his plaintive howls, she hightailed it to the back door. A police officer in tactical vest and helmet with the visor down was visible through the window, fist raised as if he was preparing to bang again.
He spoke the instant she pulled the door open. “Ma’am, you need to leave the house. We have a possible bomb next door, and we’re evacuating the adjacent homes.”
“I know about the bomb. I called it in. I live there.” As she flapped a hand toward her modest Cape Cod house, his eyebrows rose. “I came over to take care of my neighbor’s dog, okay? They’re gone for the weekend. I have their key.” She held it up. “The basement’s safe, isn’t it? Because that’s where I told my neighbor on the other side to go too.”
The man pulled his radio off his belt. “I’ll give the officer who’s working those houses her location.” He took her arm and urged her out the door. “We’ll get a statement once we’re out of range.”
“Should I bring Ernie?”
He frowned. “Who?”
“My neighbor’s dog.” She motioned toward the basement door. “I wouldn’t want—”
“He’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he hustled her across the yard, keeping the houses lining the street between them and the package on her porch.
While the 911 dispatcher had treated her call as routine, the officer from this quiet, local suburb seemed a bit rattled.
At the end of the cul-de-sac, he handed her off to a County officer inside the yellow police tape that cordoned off the neighborhood.
The uniformed woman introduced herself, but the name didn’t penetrate the fog that had begun to swirl through Eve’s brain.
“Ma’am?” The officer peered at her. “Are you all right?”
The question registered at a peripheral level, and she forced herself to concentrate. “Um . . . sure. I think so.” She tightened her grasp on the key in her hand as police officers swarmed the area, sweat glistening on their brows.
But the hot sun couldn’t dispel the cold chill that rippled through her.
“Let me get you a bottle of water.” The officer kept tabs on her as she strode toward the emergency vehicles that were multiplying like mosquitoes in a stagnant pond.
Eve suppressed another shiver and tried to tune out the controlled frenzy around her.
Weird how she could pontificate for six hours a week to a quarter of a million listeners around the country about the violence, vulgarity, and vice besetting society, yet when serious nastiness hit close to home, her stomach morphed into a blender.
It wasn’t a good feeling.
But she was not going to succumb to pressure. Or threats. Or intimidation.
No way.
She’d honor the promise she’d made to herself the day she’d launched this venture—to seek and stand up for the truth, whatever the cost.
Still . . . a bomb?
Seriously?
Yet if someone was determined to undermine her resolve, an explosive device did have more punch than a nasty letter.
Except the scare tactic wasn’t going to work.
She mashed her lips together and lifted her chin.
Whatever the motivation for today’s incident, she was sticking with her principles. She would not back down from her point of view, no matter the danger. Tomorrow would be business as usual.
In the meantime, though, she needed to rein in her galloping pulse, get her shakes under control—and try not to lose her lunch.
So much for any hopes of a quiet end to his first week in the Crimes Against Persons Bureau.