Page 20 of Velvet Betrayal
Bingo. Not a threat—yet. Just a probe.
If theyreallyknew who was inside, they wouldn’t bother with a script. No uniforms, no backup, no warrants. Just two men, sent to confirm a location before someone meaner showed up to make the grab.
I tightened my grip on the axe. Just in case this was the part where it got messy.
They knocked again, louder this time. “Ma’am? If you’re in there, I need you to open up. It’s not safe to leave the gas running overnight.”
I caught a flicker of movement upstairs—the curtain shifting. Ruby, watching, fast enough that they didn’t catch a glimpse of her. She wouldn’t open the door or show herself unless she absolutely had to. Smart play was to let them get bored and leave, maybe take a picture of the car on the way out. Worst case, they circled the house, spotted the tracks, and came back with backup. Standard playbook. I counted down the minutes in my head. Three, maybe five, then they’d bail.
The two men took turns pounding on the door, never quite in sync. Like they couldn’t agree on who was in charge. I tried to anticipate the rhythm, but the nerves made every silence feel like a question I couldn’t answer.
Minutes ticked by. At first, the two of them did a slow patrol of the porch, calling out every so often—“Ma’am? State orders, we can’t leave until we know you’re okay,” and “Just knock if you need anything”—but their voices got less certain with every lap. The skinny one drifted back toward the cruiser, fiddled with a radio, and scribbled notes on a pad like he actually cared. The big guy lingered at the bottom of the steps, eyes tracing the icicles along the eaves and the weird old latticework on the windows. For half a second, I thought he might have seen something inside, but he wasn’t really looking. He was scanning for a security camera, or maybe just an excuse to leave and say he’d done his job.
Then, out of nowhere, the skinny guy called up, “Hey, little girl at the window—could you get your mom, please?”
Shit.
I slid the axe alongside the wall, close enough that I could grab it if I needed it, and stepped out onto the porch like I’d meant to all along. “Hey,” I said, easy. “Sorry, I had headphones on while I was out back. What’s up? My daughter was napping.”
The big one gave me a once-over, like it was the most normal thing in the world for a mobster posing as a lumberjack to carry out a perfectly executed jump scare on the porch of what must have looked like an abandoned cabin. “We’re looking for the property manager. Yours is the only car up here.” His gaze lingered on my . “Gas main’s out on Becket. State’s running wellness checks.”
“Didn’t see any notice on the drive in,” I said, keeping my tone flat. Uncooperative Vacationer: that was the play. “Is there an actual leak?”
He gave me a smile, patient and a little condescending. “Could be. Storm’s not helping. Neighbor two over reported a smell.” He nodded at the roof. “Can’t be too careful. Is the homeowner around?”
“Just me, my wife, and the kid upstairs. Pipes are all new. You want to check a meter or something, Officer…?”
He laughed, not even trying to sell the badge. “It’s Deputy. But close enough, pal.” He backed up a few steps to peer up at the window. I couldn’t see Rosie or Ruby…but we both knew they were there. “Hey there, sweetheart. You staying warm?”
I shot him a cold smile. “She doesn’t talk to strangers.”
He blinked, slow and deliberate, like we were negotiating terms without saying a word. The thin one started up the steps, not even bothering to shake the snow from his boots. He had a clipboard, but it was all wrong—like he’d seen it in a movie and decided to improvise.
“You’re not from the county,” I said.
He stopped, just shy of the door. “You want to be a smart guy, or just answer a couple questions and get back to your family?”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t have to.
The big guy shrugged. “Here’s the thing, friend. There are people in this area that aren’t supposed to be here.” He gave another look up at the window. “You fit the bill. We’re supposed to call it in, but honestly? We don’t care. We’re just looking for a woman and a kid. Not even supposed to say why.”
“Weird job for a deputy,” I said.
The skinny one grinned, sharp and tired. “Like you’re the only one with a side hustle?”
Almost believable, honestly. Not the story, but the tone—a guy who’d figured out the angles, realized this wasn’t worth the trouble, and wanted to get home in one piece. Better than someone who wanted to be a hero. Or a Callahan.
So that was something.
The heavy looked past me, into the dim foyer. “If you see them, or if they try to break in—”
I cut him off. “What, the woman and the kid? You want to leave a number in case they break in and steal my juice boxes?
He reached into his coat, pulled out a battered wallet, and peeled off a card that looked freshly printed—too clean, no county seal. I took it anyway, letting my fingers linger just long enough to note the cheap stock, the name that probably wasn’t his, and the burner number printed crooked near the bottom.
The pen mark across the top read Otis County Services, but the ink had already started to bleed from the cold.
They left with what dignity they could muster, boots thumping down the steps, the skinny one muttering to himself and the big one easing back into the driver’s seat. I watched them as they sat there, killing time for a few minutes before backing down the drive…not even remotely aware that I had an axe around the corner justbeggingto split their skulls.
