J Saint - Collateral Damage

Jack approached the house from the right side where a wealth of tree coverage went all the way to the windows of Angie's three bedroom ranch. Angie often complained about the oak's branches creaking during strong winds or a heavy rain, completely sure they'd land in her bed one day. Lauren waited one house away, beneath the dark overhang of a carport attached to a storage shed. Gardening tools and a lawn mower filled the space and she grabbed a trowel, figuring its sharp prongs could do some major damage. Jack silently moved to each window and peered inside then disappeared around the corner of the house.

She held her breath as precious seconds ticked by.

He came back looking grim. "The back door is ajar and the house is empty."

Lauren moaned, somewhere between a scream and a cry.

He grabbed her arms. "Listen. There're no signs of violence or a struggle, so don't go jumping to conclusions yet."

"Let me look," she whispered, her heart struggling to beat as her mind raced. Angie wouldn't have left the door open. And if a gunman had taken either Matt or Mitch hostage, there would be no signs of a struggle. Angie would have cooperated.

She might have left some sort of hint or clue, Lauren thought to herself and prayed to find something. How did mothers ever face this horror? Missing their child or children. Not knowing what was happening to them? If they were okay…hurt…oh God.

Trowel clutched in hand, Lauren followed Jack as he again cautiously approached the house from the back. Her stomach churned. A cold sweat had her palms damp and her body shivered as she crossed the threshold.

Silence, an ugly dark pit of it, surrounded her as she swept her gaze back and forth for any clue. The house-their stuff and Angie's belongings-was exactly as Lauren had left it a short time ago. The TV was on and muted. Thomas the Tank Engine filled the screen. Tears blurred her eyes and she sucked in air, realizing she had barely breathed since entering the house.

The scent of peanut butter smacked her. She went to the kitchen sink. "They ate PBJs." She located two lunch plates with crusts and two almost empty glasses of milk in the sink. Jack touched the milk glass.

"It's still cold." He marched over to the TV and paused the DVD. "How long ago did you leave here?"

"About sixty minutes."

"This has only been running for twenty minutes."

Lauren's eyes widened. "Which means that they were here and fine then."

Jack's gaze dropped to the floor, his expression darkened, his body tensed. The dogs suddenly pawed at the now-closed back door. Lauren ran the few steps to the door. "That's how they always greet the boys."

Jack's sixth sense screamed. "Wait, Laur-" But she didn't hear his warning, the dogs' barking had drowned him out.

Lauren jerked open the door, expecting to see Angie and her sons, totally not registering Jack's booming for her to stop until it was too late.

Before she could blink, she found herself sandwiched against the wall with Jack plastered to her back. Her trowel clattered to the floor as surprise left her fingers nerveless. His heat and the deadly tension in his hard body were overwhelming. He had is gun in hand. No one was at the door and the dogs barreled out.

"There're fresh muddy prints on the kitchen mat," Jack said harshly. "They're about size twelve men's shoe. My size, but they're not mine. So Angie had a welcomed or unwelcomed guest here within the past hour. My guess is unwelcomed and that someone could have been at the door. Opening it could have been a fatal mistake." She nodded, gulping for air. He continued, "You have to think before you react and remember EVERYTHING is suspect. The boys could have been outside with Angie and the muddy footprints could mean nothing at all, or the boys and Angie could have been being held at gunpoint. In which case, any edge that I might have had in sneaking around and surprising them from behind would have been lost when you opened the door. So look before you leap, or before you open a door in this case."

Lauren realized to her core that the world as she'd always known it was gone as effectively as if she had been transported to another planet. She looked at the mat by the sink Jack referred to. "The prints are new. They weren't there when I left. I know because I swept up cornflakes after Matt dropped the box while climbing up to the top of the pantry. And Angie was not expecting anyone to come over."

"Then we'll assume they're in danger." Sasha and Sam continued to bark and Jack grabbed her hand, pulling her with him as he slipped to the outside porch and scanned the area, his gun ready. "Stay close. Stay low, and do what I do. The Shepherds might be tracking your sons." Jack kept to the shadows, knowing how to blend in with the scenery and using that skill like a master.

Sasha and Sam went to a gate three houses away from Angie's and pawed the wooden privacy fence, begging to get inside.

Jack pulled back into the shadows. "Stay here. Let me check the area first. Whoever made those footprints could have left or could be on the other side of the fence."

He reached the fence and after checking through the cracks, he put his gun away, and stepped back. He signaled for her.

Lauren rushed up.

"Relax. They're safe." Jack motioned for her to go ahead. She almost stumbled as her knees went weak with a relief she couldn't quite grasp. What did the footprints mean?

Angie, harried and disheveled with her red hair a corky mop in the breeze, opened the gate. The Shepherds bounded inside, nearly knocking her over. She laughed. "You know. When you go on that sex date, we're going to have to get you a babysitter three days in advance. Otherwise you're going to be too tired to enjoy anything. These monsters are murder on energy."

Lauren froze, except for her mouth which opened and shut like a fish out of water.

Angie turned around, gasped then yelled, "Matt. Get down. I told you that you must ask your mom before you can use the diving board."

"But she's not here and I want E-hart to fly now."

At Jack's barely audible chuckle, Lauren unstuck herself and hurried through the gate, sure her face was beet red. Matt stood on the diving board situated at the deep end of the pool, bouncing with his race car in hand. Mitch had his race car at the shallow end of the pool and was racing it down the stair rail, thoroughly happy to stay within the safe parameters Angie had set.

"Off the diving board now, Matt." Lauren thanked God that she found her sons safe.

"But, Mom!"

"No buts. You disobeyed Aunt Angie and that means you forfeited your opportunity to use the diving board this time."

"But…but… MOM!"

"Now. Next time you'll remember that you can't just do what want to do without facing the consequences. When Aunt Angie is babysitting you, you have to obey her. Do I need to add another punishment as well?"

Matt shut his mouth and backed off the diving board. He had his jaw set at a stubborn angle though, telling her that he hadn't come close to learning any sort of lesson. The heat of Jack's body behind her penetrated her consciousness even before she heard him shut the gate. Both her sons and Angie came to a surprised standstill, their gazes wide.

"Oh my," Angie said. "Didn't realize you had company." Rather than appearing contrite at her sex date remark, she looked entirely too pleased. "I'm Angie Freemont." She stepped up and offered her hand.

"Jack Hunter." Jack shook her hand.

"I tried to call, and became really worried." Lauren said. "Someone ransacked my house at some point since last night." She again glanced at her sons, so thankful they were safe, but still fully aware they were all in a bad situation. Would they ever be safe again? Danger had parked a vulture on her shoulder that continued to tear at her heart. At the moment the boys were hugging Sasha and Sam and running their race cars down the dogs' backs.