Page 18 of Her Only Hero

A forceful knock sounded at the front door, and I dropped behind the couch to hide from view. My heart thumped like the dribbling of a basketball. There was another loud knock. I didn’t move as I waited for whoever it was to go away.

I fumbled with my phone when I heard a man’s voice from outside.

“June! Are you in there?”

Patrick. I wanted to cry with relief. “Just a second.”

I scrambled up from my crouched position and opened the door. Still in uniform, Patrick stepped inside from the foyer. I followed his gaze to my black bra, where my housecoat gaped open. Patrick raised his eyebrows, and the corner of his mouth turned up.

“Hi,” I said and shrugged my shoulders. I tried to smile, but a sob tore out of my chest. I couldn’t talk.

Patrick kicked the door shut and plunged toward me. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

My body shook. “Sorry. Just freaking out a bit here.”

“Why? What happened?”

“It’s probably nothing, but I found the basement window open.”

“Show me.”

I paused at the threshold of the back door and stared out into the glistening wet darkness. I couldn’t move.

Patrick pulled the gun from his hip. “Lock yourself in the bathroom, June.”

In a flash, he disappeared down the stairwell.

I listened for any sound from below. There was a crash and then nothing. I couldn’t stand there like a frozen scaredy-cat, so I grabbed the biggest knife from the knife block. I descended the steps, my thighs shaky with each step. I opened the basement door. Moonglow drifted in, but I didn’t see Patrick.

“Patrick?” I whispered.

At the back of the room, something shifted in the darkness, and then a beam of light flared. Patrick appeared from behind the storage pile with a flashlight.

“It’s okay, June. I’m here,” he said.

“Did you find anything?”

“I don’t want to alarm you, but there was definitely someone down here. I already called it in.”

“Oh.” My stomach clenched.

“Have a look,” he said and went over to the hanging light bulb. He rotated it farther into the socket, and it lit up. “It appears someone loosened it. We’ll have to check it for prints, as well as the door and window. It looks like they jimmied the window open, and there are some muddy footprints.”

I squeezed the shaft of the knife.

Patrick looked at my clinched hand. “Way to hustle, darling.”

I choked out a laugh. “How do you do this sort of stuff all the time without heart failure?”

“Training, experience,” he said. “How about we get out of here?”

Patrick followed close behind me as we climbed the stairs and reentered my apartment. I slid the knife back into the wooden block and clasped my hands together to steady them.

“The thought of a stranger being down there is unnerving. I can’t shake it,” I said. “I wish I could be as brave and calm as you. You’re really incredible. You can think when there’s danger, you’re adept and—”

“June, don’t idolize me.”

It took me aback how he accepted no accolades. He was humble, or perhaps at one time had been humbled.

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