Page 92 of Deputy Brand Gets Her Man
“I will.”
She put the car in gear, but he shifted it back, then pressed a hand to her cheek to turn her face. Then he leaned in and kissed her.
Damned if a tear didn’t roll all the way to her lips before they parted. “Gringo, you got me turned upside down and inside out, you know that? Am I comin’ or goin’?” She shook her head, pulled the car into gear and drove. She parked two houses away, putting a bushy tree between her pickup and the line of sight from the Montrose house. The sister killer wouldn’t see Jeremiah getting out the passenger side that way.
“Turn off the sound on your phone,” she said. “Haptics too. But keep an eye on it, and don’t let him see it. Now, how are you gonna let me know when the coast is clear?”
“I’ll send an emoji. I can do that quick and easy.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay.” But he didn’t get out. Instead he leaned her way.
She swayed out of his path. “Oh, no. No, uh-uh. Go.”
He sighed, and then he opened the door and got out. She watched him walk along the sidewalk to the Montrose home and then toward the house, but instead of going to the front door, he vanished around the side, headed, she knew, for the aforementioned back porch.
She waited, drumming her fingers until her phone pinged, which reminded her to turn off the sound. Then she looked at Jeremiah’s text.
Hot Gringo:
She got out of the truck and walked casually up the sidewalk, but before she even made it to the front door, somebody came up behind her, and slid a hand over her shoulder.
She looked up fast, startled. “Ethan! Sheesh, you got here fast.”
“Whole fam’s here. You just can’t see ‘em. What’s the situation?”
“We think she’s inside. Husband says she’s sleeping. Jeremiah’s distracting him with some made-up inheritance paperwork he doesn’t have on the back porch. I was plannin’ to slide in the front.”
“You don’t have a warrant.”
“I have probable cause to believe Elena is in danger.”
Ethan nodded. “And the rest of us just went in out of concern for our cousin the deputy.”
She looked ahead and saw Baxter already at the door, playing around with the lock, swingin’ it open with ease. He went inside.
“Keep the others out here in case we need backup,” she said. “We don’t want to make a racket.”
Ethan was texting before she took off for the front door and followed Baxter inside.
Baxter was tiptoeing around the living room, peering around corners, so she headed for the stairway, and walked softly up. It was hard to place each foot with care when she was so impatient to reach the top. But then she did and started checking bedrooms.
Elena was in the first one she checked, splayed on the bed, atop the covers. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes were closed. Willow leaned closer, feeling her neck for a pulse, and turning her cheek toward Elena’s nose and mouth to feel her breaths.
And she did.
“Thank God.” She shook her. “Elena. Hey, come on, you were not hurt that bad that you should be this out of it.”
Elena had no response.
Willow heard footsteps on the stairs, so she went to stand behind the door, which put her right over a small wastebasket with a syringe lying on top, and a vial of something in the bottom. She took the plastic liner right out of the can, knotting it to her belt as the person reached the top and stage-whispered, “Will?”
She came out from behind the door and poked her head out. It was Baxter. “She’s in here. Alive, but unconscious.”
Baxter crossed the room to the bed as she said, “We have to get her out of here.”
“Well, now,” said a man who should not have been there. Richard Montrose was in the bedroom doorway. “What have we got going on here? A little breaking and entering, a little kidnapping?”
