Dani Sinclair - Police Protector

Impossible. The police had searched the house from top to bottom.

But what if they had missed something?

“Kip?” Her voice sounded loud in the silence. She strained to hear the slightest sound. “Kip, it’s Aunt Kyra. Are you here?”

Even the house seemed to hold its breath. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“It’s okay to come out now. I’m here to help.”

Nothing. No sound. Calming her racing heart she stared at the staircase for what seemed like a very long time, listening to the noises of the old house. There was no other sound.

It must have been wishful thinking. If she didn’t get control of herself she’d be useless when they did find Casey. And they would, she vowed. She wasn’t leaving until she found her sister and her children. Maybe Kyra should take a break and try to rest.

The patter of small running footsteps overhead was real and distinct.

Her heart slammed into her throat. She flew up the steps calling Kip’s name. No one answered. There was no sound as she reached the dark landing. Surely if the children were here the police would have found them. Still, she went from room to empty room.

No footsteps. No voices. She was alone in the house and losing her mind.

Shaking all over, her gaze was drawn to the front window in the master bedroom. The drapes had been pulled back, giving her a view of the night beyond. A patrol car moved slowly down the street.

Kyra crossed to watch until the car turned the corner and disappeared. One quick phone call and they’d return. They could search the house with her. Did she want that?

The police had looked. She had looked. There was no one in the house. She didn’t want them to think she was crazy.

The crisp winter night spread out still and silent below her. She stood a long time with her forehead pressed against the cold glass, silently praying that Casey and the children were somewhere safe in the darkness.

If her sister was found unharmed, Kyra swore she’d make a serious effort to get to know Casey and her kids better. Kyra enjoyed her busy life, but she sacrificed a lot for her job. She was rarely home. Her work required a great deal of travel, and Simon had enjoyed finding remote places to vacation.

She and Casey stayed in contact by phone and e-mail, but it wasn’t enough. Casey was the only close family Kyra had. Though her sister was so much older, Kyra should have made more time for her as well.

“Just let Casey be all right,” she whispered silently to the darkness outside.

Turning around, her step faltered. Had she just seen a small shadow dart away near the end of the dark hall?

Before Lucan could knock, the front door flew open. Kyra Wolfstead stood there, five foot seven inches of determination despite the exhaustion rimming the tired blue eyes that gazed at him. Lucan cocked his head.

“I am not crazy,” she announced.

He blinked. “Okay.”

“Don’t placate me.”

He held up his palms. “It’s three forty-two in the morning. I’m not awake enough to bother.”

She swiped at her hair. “I know what I saw.”

“A shadow.”

“There was someone in the hall upstairs. A child!”

He stepped past her. The living room showed that she must have indeed spent the entire night cleaning. The broken Christmas tree was in its stand in the corner looking sadly forlorn. Garland, bows and ornaments, laid out neatly, covered the battered remains of the couch. The floor had been vacuumed clean of broken glass and stuffing. All the furniture was in upright positions.

“Did you even try to sleep?”

“No. So I couldn’t have been dreaming. And I wasn’t hallucinating,” she told him intently.

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Stop saying that!”

He spread his hands defensively. “Tell me again exactly what you saw, Kyra.”

“First I thought I heard whispering, but I wasn’t sure. I’d been running the vacuum cleaner and when I turned it off…” She looked toward the stairs. “I called out but no one answered. Then I heard footsteps running across the floor overhead. I ran upstairs but the rooms were all empty. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.”

Lucan heard the desperation in her rising tone. She took a deep breath, firm round breasts rising beneath her sweater as she pushed at her hair absently.

“I watched the patrol car drive past from the master-bedroom window. I guess I stood there for several minutes after they went past.” Her gaze defied him to criticize.

“You’re tired, Kyra.”

“Of course I’m tired! But I didn’t imagine that shadow at the end of the hall. I think Kip is in the house. I saw what I saw!”

Lucan heaved a tired sigh. “I’m not saying you didn’t.” He rubbed at the stubble along his jaw. Her call had pulled him from sleep and he was feeling as rough as his stubble. He’d tugged on the nearest clothes at hand and rushed over.

“I’m not crazy,” she repeated.

He closed eyes gritty from lack of sleep and opened them again. “I don’t think you’re crazy. Let’s go have another look around.”

“Then you believe me?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He started up the stairs and paused. “Did you check all the doors and windows?”

“Before I went upstairs.”

“But not since you thought you saw someone?”

“You think someone came in after I went upstairs?”

“I just want to get the sequence straight. Finding an open door or window might mean exactly that. Let’s take a look.”

“I suppose Kip could have a key to the house.”

Lucan nodded. “There are a lot of latch-key kids around.”

She trailed him as he checked the doors and windows in each room. Everything was locked tight and the plywood over the kitchen window was undisturbed. The kitchen was clean enough to meet his mother’s approval.

“You really have been busy.”

Wearily, she shrugged. “I did what I could.”

She followed him to the stairs. “I keep wondering if Milt did this out of spite. Casey said his temper is terrible when he’s drunk. Maybe she came home and found him trashing the house. I keep thinking he killed her, maybe all of them. Maybe Kip is the only one who got away.”

Her voice broke. He took her arm, turning her to face him. Tears filled her eyes and she looked down, blinking hard. Her coping mechanisms were starting to fail as lack of sleep battered her tired brain.

“You need to rest, Kyra. There’s no evidence to support anyone being killed here.”

“Then where is she? Maybe she came in and he strangled her or forced her away at gunpoint.”

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t do this. You aren’t helping Casey or the children by going to pieces.”

Anger, hurt and fear swam in her eyes. She closed them and took a shuddery breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not usually so emotional.”

He let go of her and stepped back, watching her draw on her fragile reserves. “I know. Let’s go up and have another look around.”

Kyra turned and began ascending the stairs.

“Does Casey’s ex own a gun?”

She considered before answering and when she did her voice was stronger, less emotional.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think Casey would have mentioned it if he did, but I barely knew the man.”

“What about Casey?”

She stopped near the top of the steps. “What do you mean?”

“Does she own a gun?”

Kyra started to answer and stopped. There was dejection in the sudden slump of her shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

The words were a whisper. Lucan nodded. “Could she be using drugs?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “You keep harping on that! I haven’t changed my answer. I can’t see Casey involved in drugs or condoning their use in any way shape or form. She loves her kids. She would never do that!”