Page 20 of Capturing You
Whoever she’d seen was about to drive right down his driveway.
He scooped her into his arms, earning a gasp of surprise.
Ignoring her reaction to him—and his to her—he ran. He reached the basement door and carried her to the bottom of the steps before he set her on her feet.
Then he crossed to the worst hiding place in the house. But there was no time to get her to a better one.
He opened the short metal door tucked into the concrete. “In here.”
She looked at the space, which was as tall as his hip and half as deep. Concrete on three sides. Cold metal on the fourth. It latched from the outside, making it a tiny little prison.
Banging coming from the front door upstairs had her eyes popping wide.
“Get in.”
“But—”
“I’ll be back.”
He didn’t touch her, despite his eagerness for her to hide.
“You promise?”
“I promise.” He made his tone as serious as he could. “I just need to get rid of them. You have your phone, right?”
She nodded, and he waited.
Until, at more pounding, she crouched and crawled into the tiny hiding spot.
He closed the door and latched it. Then pushed a couple boxes in front of it, just in case.
He hurried to the opposite side of the basement, where Dad had stored household tools on shelves over a wide wooden workspace. Forbes grabbed the tool belt he’d used a couple of times for small projects, fastened it to his waist, and stepped out the basement door.
He rounded to the front.
One man stood on the wide patio near the door. Another was standing on his tiptoes, peeking in the parlor window. A black Chevy was parked in the circle drive.
“Can I help you?”
Both men turned toward him.
The one on the patio jogged down the steps. He was medium height and build with drab brown hair and nondescript brown eyes. Clean-shaven, he looked about as threatening as a ladybug. He marched toward Forbes, hand outstretched. “I'm Niles.” He gestured toward the other man, who was coming up behind him. “That’s Bernie.”
Unlike Niles, Bernie was thick. Thick neck, thick shoulders, thick chest, thick thighs. Thick head? That remained to be seen.
“Ford Baker.”
“We’re looking for a woman,” Niles said.
“Aren’t we all?”
“Ha. Right. In this case, a particular woman.”
Forbes made a show of looking around. “You think she’s here somewhere?”
“You seen her?”
“Haven’t seen anyone.”
