Angi Morgan - The Marine's Last Defence

“You want the fire to look genuine, don’t ya?”

The stranger was near the back door. She caught a tilt to his lips when Griffin’s back was turned. Her stomach twisted in fear. Whoever this stranger was, he enjoyed killing. Animal or human, that smile indicated he looked forward to it.

She swallowed the bile in her throat and hid behind the island table again. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. They were going to kill her.

What should she do? Remember his voice. Remember that deadly smile and his thin, flat lips. She had no evidence, no proof that someone wanted her dead. And from what she’d overheard, they’d planted evidence that she was responsible for something. Dear Lord, she didn’t even know where to start. She knew nothing about police procedures except that they needed more information than she had to begin an investigation.

Fading daylight briefly filled the room as the back door opened and closed. The sound of the dead bolt turning echoed through the cold room. Oh, no, the van was parked out front now. How long had they been here? Would they notice? Would they come back?

Silence.

She sank to the floor. There was nowhere to hide and if they did return, what could she do?

The faint whine of an abandoned pup bolted her into action. No one was going to kill the animals left in her care. She tugged on one of the rolling tables and opened a bin. She yanked a scalpel, wielding it like a hunting knife. She could defend herself a little, maybe deter them long enough to race out the front door.

Explanation or no, she could get to the police to save her own life. Panda and Pogo barked.

The animals. She had to get them out of the building. She took a peek through the windows and didn’t see any cars. She ran through the clinic to the back of the boarding kennels and unbolted the door, slightly propping it open for quick access. Then another dash through the building and out the front, moving the van to the back.

Thank goodness she didn’t have a lot of animals at the clinic or being boarded for the weekend. The three dogs and kitty would fit inside the van and be safe. She closed the van door with a sigh of relief, dropping her forehead to the cooling metal. She could meet Amber at the house and have her drive the animals to their owners.

Then she would drive her car directly to the police station and take her chances. Crazy sounding or not, she had to report Griffin to the authorities.

“Back early?”

She yelped like one of the puppies. “Oh, Griffin. You scared the living daylights out of me.” Her partner jerked her away from the van in a constricted grip. “You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t play dumb, Sabrina. I saw you loading the animals. You heard us inside and are moving them before we torch the place.”

She pulled. His grip tightened. “I don’t understand any of this, Griffin. What’s going on?”

“Get inside.” He shoved a gun in her ribs. “Now.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t kill me, please. Whatever the problem is we can work it out.” She stumbled as he propelled her through the door. “I’m sure the police can sort through everything.”

“No, they can’t. I don’t give the orders. I follow them. My office.”

The gun was securely in his hand and she shuffled through the kennels sideways, unwilling to turn her back to him. What if he had the same maniacal smile as the stranger?

Had Griffin shot someone before? He couldn’t have. He wasn’t the man who drowned kittens—he was the veterinarian who saved them. Right? But he was an excellent marksman, who wouldn’t miss when he fired.

How am I ever going to get away from you? she wondered.

“Is it drugs? Money laundering? Who are you working for?” she asked, stalling. Think, think, think. She couldn’t allow herself to be trapped in his office. There was no way out. Only a slit of a window, high above her head.

“None of the whys or whos matter anymore, Sabrina. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Doing nothing is exactly what I did for the past two years while you plotted to set me up to commit suicide.” She stopped at his office door, so close to her own.

Unfortunately, her box of an office would be just as bad as his. The window was just as high. There weren’t any weapons inside. The can of pepper spray her father insisted she carry was on her key chain, in the van. Her only path out of the building was blocked by Griffin.

“I didn’t think they’d really kill anybody. You were supposed to take the blame, but they never said they’d kill you. But it’s you or me and I won’t let it be me. I’m lucky I came back for my insurance before they torch this place. Otherwise, we’d both be dead by morning.”

The light in his office was already on. The door was ajar enough to see an open briefcase overstuffed with paper. His insurance?

“I can’t believe you’re going to just kill me.” But she knew he meant what he said. What if she got his “insurance”?

Tears of fear trickled down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands, leaning close to the picture of puppies they’d rescued last year. But she wouldn’t voluntarily move another inch to her death so she spread her feet for a stronger fighting position.

He’d relaxed, leaned lazily against her office door. If she could just delay him long enough to grab the briefcase and get to the van...she might have a chance.

“It’s no use,” he said. “You might as well stop stalling.”

Sabrina looked up, plucking the scalpel from her pocket. “Would you stop?” she shouted, lunging at his leg, stabbing him as deeply as she could.

He screamed. Fell. The gun went off. She darted into his office, grabbed his briefcase of “insurance” and ran for her life.

Chapter One

Present Day

“I didn’t complain when I was a private. I didn’t complain while serving three tours in Afghanistan. These guys have no clue how to make life miserable for someone like me. I can take a few icy sidewalks and midnight shifts.”

Jake Craig skidded on the slushy cement. Digging his steel-toed boots into the ice, he balanced on the slippery incline before he embarrassed himself by slamming to the ground. His partner—sitting in the nice warm car—probably had his smartphone ready, just waiting for him to fall flat on his butt so he could record it all.

The cold of the early morning felt good compared to the many long, hot desert memories he had from six years of war. North Texas cold didn’t compare to the bitter mountain freezing when he thought he’d lose his toes. Yeah, he could take his turn walking in the cold. At least this time he didn’t have seventy pounds of gear to carry.

On the Dallas P.D. a little over a year, he’d recently transferred to the homicide division. The promotion raised more than a few eyebrows when he jumped from rookie to detective—skipping everything in between, including the right to do so. Not too amazing for former military personnel. His fellow P.D. officers knew about department politics where qualified ex-military got bumped to the head of the list. It didn’t keep them from resenting him or make being the butt of their jokes any easier.

Just like now when he’d been directed to search for a dead body. An anonymous 911 call claimed there was a dead woman at the lake moving around in the bushes. He’d asked dispatch to repeat and again the claim was that a dead woman was moving around in the bushes.

“You go see if you can find that ghost,” his partner had ordered when they’d arrived. He’d leaned his head against the headrest and shut his eyes. “I’m going to keep the heater running on these old bones, partner. You love the cold, don’t cha, partner?”

“Sure, Owens. I could stay out here all freakin’ day.” Okay, maybe his reply had been a slight exaggeration. Then again, he hadn’t actually replied, just mumbled after he’d left the car. He would continue to accept the late shifts, practical jokes and crank calls, just like he had this morning.