Before she could twist the plastic white timer off, the bell jangled.
Madison jumped, dropping her camera bag onto the tiled bathroom floor. Papers detailing today’s work scattered all over the room. Hand over her heart, she laughed at herself. Silly woman. Jumping at nothing.
She dropped the timer back into the drawer, shaking her head. Why was she so skittish? And over something so silly?
She caught a glance of herself in the mirror over the sink, noting the circles under her eyes. She’d been working too much lately, worried too much about finances. She leaned toward her reflection and wiped a streak of mascara under her eye. As she turned to leave, something in the mirror caught her eye.
She glanced at the reflection of the shower curtain behind her.
Her heart froze.
A man stood there, a knife in his hand. Before she could scream, he grabbed her.
* * *
Brody Philips always considered sweat a good measure of hard work. If that was the case, then his jog this morning should earn him a vacation. He continued on his ten-mile run, nearly finished now. The hot and muggy day couldn’t even be eased by the gentle breeze that floated from the Chesapeake Bay.
The part of the Bay he lived by wasn’t the sandy beach area. Instead, marsh grasses jutted up and little streams filled with tadpoles and crabs meandered between the foliage. Herons and egrets made their homes in the sun-bleached wetland area. Finally the grasses subsided until the glorious blue of the bay shone in the distance.
His house—actually, his cousin’s house that had been kindly loaned out to Brody for the next several months while his cousin was stationed with the army in the Middle East—stood in the distance. He passed the home of his one and only neighbor on the secluded street.
He’d met her once. Madison Jacobs. She’d come over that first week after he’d moved in to introduce herself. She seemed nice enough and certainly she was easy on the eyes. But Brody hadn’t moved here to make friends, not even acquaintances, really. He’d moved here to get away from everything about his past in New York.
The secluded little Virginia town was the perfect spot for his self-imposed hiatus from his old life. He’d taken a job as a detective for the county’s sheriff’s department, one that was considerably slower paced than his former position in the Big Apple. Aside from his job, he avoided most of the townspeople when possible and whenever he needed a dose of anonymity, he visited the nearby city of Newport News or headed to Virginia Beach.
His neighbor had seemed to take the hint and hadn’t bothered him since that first introduction when he’d moved in. The woman—pretty with her sun-kissed skin, natural blond hair, and sparkling blue eyes—would smile tightly and wave as she passed him in her SUV coming and going. The action wasn’t overly exuberant, but appeared to be more of a forced courtesy.
Perhaps he should have been friendlier when she’d rung his doorbell, toddler and cookies in tow. He’d taken one look at her and known that getting to know her better would be way too tempting. Instead, he’d done the opposite and offered as little information about himself as possible before insisting he was in the middle of something so she’d go home. Her eyes had changed from friendly to perceptive and then annoyed as he’d closed the door. Good. It was better that way.
As his feet hit the dusty road, rocks crunching beneath him, a sharp, high-pitched sound split the air.
Brody slowed his pace and wiped the perspiration around his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. Was that a scream? Or was it the shrieking call of one of the marsh birds?
He glanced at Madison’s house. Her car was in the driveway, but he didn’t see her anywhere. She must be inside, either chasing her toddler or doing some work. He couldn’t be positive, but his best guess was that the woman worked at home.
His jog slowed to a walk, and he kept his ear attuned for any more sounds. Nothing. He must have imagined the earlier noise.
He tried to be satisfied with that, but he wasn’t convinced. He was a detective. His finely trained instincts told him to stay on guard.
Something crashed in the distance. The sound had definitely come from Madison’s house. His muscles tensed. He should go back to his house, get his gun. But everything in him screamed to get to her house, that time couldn’t be wasted.
He ran across crunchy grass toward his neighbor’s brick ranch. His gaze scanned the house as he approached. Nothing appeared out of place. The closed shades made it impossible to see inside.
He crept onto the wooden porch, grabbing a baseball bat left on a rocking chair. Slowly he twisted the brass handle of the front door.
Locked.
Something else crashed inside. A woman cried out.
He pictured Madison’s pretty face and imagined the horrors that might be going on inside. Adrenaline surged in him. He backed up and, on the count of three, charged forward. His shoulder impacted with the door. Wood split, cracked, then crashed.
The foyer stood before him. Dust and wood particles settled to the tile floor. Then an eerie quiet filled the space.
“Hello? Anyone home?” Brody stepped over the door, his ears attuned for any telltale signs. Bat in hand, he peered around the corner into the hallway.
A shadow passed by a door in the distance.
Sucking in a deep breath, he braced himself for whatever was to come.
* * *
Blurry. Fuzzy. Jumbled.
The drugs—whatever the masked man had injected into her—caused Madison’s thoughts to swirl. Fight it, Madison. Fight it. She couldn’t let herself fall into unconsciousness. The rope around her neck would choke her if she did. She had to resist the urge to close her eyes. Fight death. Fight for life.
Her head bobbed forward and the rope dug into her neck. She jerked back. Gulped in a breath.
Lord, give me strength.
But her limbs felt like gelatin. The stool she stood on wobbled. The man who wanted her dead would return and finish his cruel game.
A moan escaped her, the sound guttural, desperate.
Her head fell forward again. She gagged. Pulled her head back. Gasped for air.
Lincoln. She blinked, trying to find focus. She had to fight this for him. The boy couldn’t lose two parents before he reached the age of five. Tears pricked her eyes as her son’s sweet face flashed in her mind. She needed to be there for him, to comfort him when he got hurt, to tuck him into bed at night.
Her tears made breathing hard. She couldn’t let herself fall into despair. She had to stay strong.
But how long could she stand here? How long before the drugs kicked in and knocked her out completely? Was there any hope of surviving?
Her eyes darted around the room. Where had the man gone? And had she heard a crash or imagined it? What was the madman planning next?
Her head dipped. Her airway constricted.
Not much longer.
She jerked her head back, fighting to stay lucid. But tiredness closed in on her.
A figure appeared in the doorway. Not again. What would her attacker do this time? She cried out, tried to back up. The rope tightened around her neck.
“It’s just me.” The man rushed toward her.
Madison blinked. Her neighbor? Or was this a hallucination? Maybe she’d already drifted into an unconscious state and the drugs were playing tricks on her mind.
“Madison.” He muttered the word. His arms encircled her waist and raised her up. She gulped in breaths, thankful for relief.
But her relief was short-lived. Her head whirled. Blackness closed in on her.
“Don’t fade now. I’m going to get you down. Do you hear me?”
She nodded, but it was already too late. Everything went dark.
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