Virginia Smith - A Deadly Game

Her foot halted. Was the passenger seat pushed forward when they put the car in the trailer?

No. It wasn’t. She was positive about that.

She returned to stand at the rear of the trailer. “I think someone’s been in there.”

The officer’s head emerged from his examination of the interior. “What makes you think so?”

“I’m sure that seat wasn’t pushed forward. And why would Jack make a point of giving me the key if he was going to leave the trailer unlocked?” Her arms tightened around Lizzie. Detective Rollins’s warning left an ominous echo in her mind. “What if the person who killed Mr. Ingram came after his car?”

A noise behind her made her whirl, but it was only the second officer coming from the backyard.

“Nothing back there, ma’am. No signs at all of an intruder.” His gaze rose from her face to his partner’s inside the trailer.

Did she imagine it, or did a secretive look pass between them? She could almost hear the older officer’s thoughts. Woman without a man around for protection. Panics over nothing. Despite the frigid air, heat flared up her neck. “I know I heard a noise outside, and I know someone jiggled the knob on my back door.”

Before the silence became uncomfortable, the officer in the trailer hopped down to the ground. “I have a theory. I think it was teenagers.”

His partner nodded, as though in agreement.

“Why do you say that?” Susanna asked. “Did you find something inside the car?”

He shook his head as he slid his flashlight back into place on his belt. “If it was a car thief, they would have been more prepared. They would have come with a truck and hauled off the trailer with the car inside. We’ve had trouble with teenagers prowling around town late at night. Some gang activity. Instances of vandalism. My guess is the trailer caught their attention. Since there’s no sign that the lock was forced, we have to assume the door wasn’t locked to begin with.”

Susanna would have argued that point, but without a call to Jack she couldn’t say for certain. And there was no way she was calling Jack at three in the morning. At least the officer believed her that someone had been here.

He nodded toward the Corvette. “Taking a car like that out for a joyride would be almost irresistible. They probably searched the interior to see if they could find the keys.”

“But then why try to break into my house?”

The other officer answered. “They probably figured someone who would leave a car like that in an unlocked trailer wouldn’t be too careful with their house, either. They may have just been checking to see if they could get inside the house and get the keys. You scared them off when you screamed.” His expression grew sober. “It’s a good thing you locked your doors. If they were on drugs, you never know what could have happened to you and your little girl.”

Susanna turned to look into the deep shadows of the backyard. The scenario did seem feasible, assuming Jack had simply forgotten to lock the trailer. She certainly intended to ask him about that the next time she spoke with him.

Still, having someone try to break into her house the same night Mr. Ingram was killed seemed like an awfully big coincidence. What would that detective think? She almost hated to bring up the man’s name, because he reminded her so much of the detective she’d spoken with during that awful business back in Tennessee. “I don’t know. Maybe we should contact Detective Rollins.”

“Oh, don’t worry, ma’am.” The first officer closed the trailer door. “We’ll give him a full report.”

He turned the key in the lock, tested the handle to be sure it was secure, and handed her the key ring.

She held Lizzie in place with one hand and took the key with the other. “So you think we’ll be safe the rest of the night?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” The officer glanced at his watch, then smiled at Lizzie’s sleeping form. “You should take a cue from your daughter and try to get a few hours’ sleep. We’ll make some extra patrols up and down this street for the rest of the night, keep an eye on things. Just to be on the safe side.”

The two officers headed for their cruisers. Susanna watched them for a moment, until an icy breeze blew against her back. Lizzie should be inside, where it was warm. She hurried up the walkway, climbed the steps and let herself into the house.

Sleep, the officer had said. After all she’d been through? Right. The two hours she’d managed to doze on the couch earlier would have to last her a while. No way she’d be able to sleep any more tonight.

When she’d deposited Lizzie in bed—Susanna’s, not the little girl’s—she returned to the front of the house. A peek through the curtains revealed one of the cruisers still parked at the curb. The sight eased the mounting tension a fraction. A light illuminated the younger officer, his head bent over something on the seat beside him. Typing his report on a computer, probably. Good. Hopefully he’d have a lot to say, and it would take a long time. If the teenagers returned, the presence of a police officer would be a strong deterrent.

But the cruiser would leave eventually. She tried to ignore the panicky feeling that made her breath shallow. She was not normally the hysterical type, but the events of the past several hours would make anyone paranoid. If only she had a weapon of some sort. Not a gun, because she wouldn’t know how to use one if she had it. But a baseball bat, maybe, or a crowbar. A glance around the room revealed no likely weapons. She went into the kitchen, opened the knife drawer and examined the dangerous blade of the butcher knife.

No. Someone would have to get far too close for a knife to do any good. Besides, she was a weakling. If anyone got into the house, she and Lizzie were done for. Her best defense was to make sure nobody got in to begin with.

She slid out one of the sturdy wooden chairs from the dinette set that had belonged to her mother, tilted it on its back two legs and wedged the backrest under the door handle. There. They’d have to chop through the door with an ax to get past that. She’d use another chair on the front door and a third for her bedroom door. She and Lizzie would be safe inside.

Before she left the room, she returned to the drawer and grabbed the butcher knife, too. Just in case.

Susanna awoke Friday morning to Lizzie’s happy chatter.

“I slept with you, Susu!” The child hopped like an excited frog on the mattress. “We had a sleepover.”

Morning sunlight filtered through the yellow bedroom curtains and filled the room with a cheery glow. Susanna stretched and glanced at the clock. Eight twenty-seven. In all the chaos of last night she had forgotten to set the alarm, and now they’d overslept. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept until eight-thirty on a weekday. Of course, she hadn’t expected to sleep at all, and couldn’t remember dropping off. Exhaustion must have finally caught up with her.

Lizzie bounced once more before settling on the mattress beside her. “Is it Cartoon Day?”

At three years old, Lizzie had yet to learn the days of the week. She knew she went to her babysitter’s house on workdays, and on Saturday she was allowed to spend a couple of hours in front of the television watching her favorite cartoons.

Susanna shook her head. “No, sweetie, it’s not Saturday. It’s Friday, a workday.”

Although, after what she’d been through, nobody would blame her for taking a day off. They could lounge around the house in their pajamas and watch one of Lizzie’s favorite Disney DVDs. Filling her mind with images of princesses in beautiful dresses sounded far more appealing than the somber faces she would encounter at Ingram Industries today.