{"id":46,"date":"2015-06-05T17:16:48","date_gmt":"2015-06-05T17:16:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/?page_id=46"},"modified":"2015-06-05T17:16:48","modified_gmt":"2015-06-05T17:16:48","slug":"excerpt-shattered-haven","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/my-books\/excerpt-shattered-haven\/","title":{"rendered":"Excerpt &#8211; Shattered Haven"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Allison Winchester lay stock still, every muscle tight with apprehension.<\/p>\n<p>Something had awoken her. A noise. Different from the usual creaks and groans of the old Victorian.<\/p>\n<p>But all was quiet. Was it her imagination? The remnants of a dream?<\/p>\n<p>She eased into a semi-upright position and propped herself on her elbows. A full moon cast its silver glow into the room, the lace curtains making shadowed patterns on the furnishings. The door was closed, her robe hanging from a hook on its back. Next to the bed, two shams and a half dozen throw pillows lay stacked in the upholstered chair with a stuffed Garfield perched on top. Everything was exactly as she had left it. A sliver of tension slid away.<\/p>\n<p>Then it came again. A rattle. Like someone trying to jimmy a window. The tension ratcheted up again, and she lay frozen, ears straining in the silence that followed. When the rattle resumed, she had no doubt. Someone was trying to break into her house.<\/p>\n<p>She sprang from the bed and snatched her cell phone from her purse. As she finished punching in the three numbers, the crash of breaking glass shattered the still night. Panic raced up her spine and settled in her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. Disjointed prayers circled through her mind, along with frantic commands\u2014lock the door, hide, grab Tom\u2019s gun. When she was finally able to breathe again, her ragged gasp echoed in the spacious room.<\/p>\n<p>Then another sound registered\u2014a calm female voice.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNine-one-one. What is your emergency?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSomeone\u2019s in my house.\u201d Her voice was a raspy whisper.<\/p>\n<p>The dispatcher continued her soothing tone. \u201cHelp is on the way. I\u2019m staying on the line until they arrive.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Allison tiptoed to the door and silently turned the lock. Downstairs, heavy footsteps thudded against the polished hardwood floors. Her intruder wasn\u2019t even trying to be quiet. She clutched the phone more tightly and pressed it against her ear, that soothing voice her lifeline to safety.<\/p>\n<p>The footsteps hesitated, and for several moments, she forgot to breathe. Then a new noise shattered her already frayed nerves\u2014the creak of the bottom step. Renewed panic spiraled through her. Lord, please help me.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe\u2019s coming upstairs.\u201d Where were the police? What was taking them so long?<\/p>\n<p>She drew in a shaky breath. Probably less than a minute had passed since she had first placed her call. But she wasn\u2019t going to wait helplessly while a possible killer made his way toward her room.<\/p>\n<p>She backed away, eyes still glued to the door. If he wanted to come in, the lock wouldn\u2019t stop him. One solid kick, and the doorframe would splinter. She propped the phone against her ear with one shoulder and opened her T-shirt drawer, cringing at the scrape of wood on wood. There hadn\u2019t been any more creaks. Maybe he had abandoned his plans for coming upstairs. But she wasn\u2019t taking a chance.<\/p>\n<p>Her fingers scrambled along the bottom of the drawer, reaching for what had lain untouched since she moved to Cedar Key two years ago. When her hand made contact with cold steel, trepidation warred with relief. Holding something so lethal just didn\u2019t feel\u2026safe. She had outgrown her youthful klutziness. But she still didn\u2019t feel confident handling a weapon.<\/p>\n<p>Now wasn\u2019t the time for such reservations.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m getting my gun.\u201d She kept her voice low.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHelp is on the way. Just stay put.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBelieve me, I will.\u201d No way was she leaving the room. At least until the cops arrived and the intruder was cuffed.<\/p>\n<p>She propped the phone against her shoulder and inserted the loaded clip, hands shaking. Then she waited, weapon trained on the door, her finger poised on the trigger.<\/p>\n<p>According to Tom, the pink GLOCK was a perfect ladies\u2019 gun. He bought it for her a month before he was killed, insisting she keep it with her. He even tried to teach her how to use it.<\/p>\n<p>She should have paid more attention. But she hadn\u2019t seen the need. She lived in an upper class New England neighborhood, separated from the unsavory elements of society. And blind to the unscrupulous activities of her husband. Those same activities had left her a widow at age twenty-four. Tom had needed the gun worse than she had.<\/p>\n<p>A siren sounded in the distance and screamed closer. Her breath spilled out in a relieved sigh. \u201cThey\u2019re almost here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She moved to the side window and looked out over the small yard that lay along the west side of her house. She wouldn\u2019t be able to see the police. But the reflection of flashing lights in the window of her neighbor\u2019s bungalow would signal their arrival.<\/p>\n<p>A second later, the siren stopped. A figure appeared from the back and charged across her side yard at a full run. Within moments, he had disappeared behind the hedge bordering her neighbor\u2019s back yard.<\/p>\n<p>She laid the weapon on the dresser, disconnected the call and grabbed her robe from the back of the door. The intruder was probably long gone, but she needed to tell the police what she saw. She hurried down the stairs, then crossed the small foyer.<\/p>\n<p>As soon as she stepped onto her front porch, she stopped short. A Cedar Key police cruiser sat in her front yard. But the officer wasn\u2019t alone. He had already apprehended the suspect. He had him pinned against the side of the car and was cuffing him.<\/p>\n<p>She cinched the belt on her robe more tightly and started down the porch steps. The officer turned and nodded a greeting. It was Hunter Kingston. He had somehow managed to catch the intruder and drag him back to the cruiser before she could get down the stairs and out the door. Hunter was good, but she didn\u2019t know he was that good.<\/p>\n<p>He looked her up and down. \u201cAre you all right?<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYeah, I\u2019m fine. He didn\u2019t come upstairs. I\u2019m guessing your siren scared him away.\u201d She cast a glance at the suspect. \u201cYou can bet I won\u2019t forget to set the alarm again.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>One edge of Hunter\u2019s mouth turned up. He obviously recognized her comment for what it was\u2014a threat to the intruder. She had never considered installing an alarm system, had never felt the need.<\/p>\n<p>The stranger turned when she spoke. In the glow of the nearby streetlight, he was an imposing figure, even with his hands secured behind his back. A Guy Harvey T-shirt stretched taut over a muscular chest, and massive arms spoke of hours in the gym. With the close-cut hair, firm set of his jaw and sense of authority he exuded, he didn\u2019t fit the image of a common burglar. He looked more like a military guy. Or a cop.<\/p>\n<p>His eyes shifted from her back to Hunter. \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSomeone broke into this lady\u2019s house.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt wasn\u2019t me. I already told you, I was chasing my dog.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>His tone was nonchalant, the concern she would expect to see absent. Either he had a lot of confidence in his ability to talk his way out of trouble, or he had been through enough arrests that the thought of spending some time in jail didn\u2019t faze him.<\/p>\n<p>Hunter didn\u2019t appear to be buying his story. \u201cAt four a.m.?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSince three-thirty, actually. He saw a cat and took off. I\u2019ve chased him all over this side of Cedar Key.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhere are you staying?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCedar Cove Marina, on my boat. I just arrived this afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m going to have to bring you in for questioning.\u201d Hunter opened the back door of the cruiser and guided him around it.<\/p>\n<p>Now the stranger\u2019s eyes did fill with concern. \u201cI need to find my dog. He\u2019s a young Doberman, answers to Brinks. He won\u2019t hurt anybody, but he\u2019s probably halfway to the mainland by now.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe\u2019ll keep an eye out for him.\u201d Skepticism filled Hunter\u2019s tone.<\/p>\n<p>Allison pursed her lips. Something wasn\u2019t right about the whole scenario. Hunter would have to be Flash to have covered that much ground by the time she made it outside. She couldn\u2019t identify the intruder. Between the clouds obscuring the moon, the oak that shaded a good portion of her side yard and the distance from the street light, it was too dark.<\/p>\n<p>But she knew where he had come from and which direction he had gone.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHunter, wait.\u201d She held up a hand. \u201cWhere was he when you saw him?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI was coming down First Street, and he ran out from between your house and the one next door.\u201d As Hunter spoke, he gestured with his right hand, tracing the path the suspect had taken.<\/p>\n<p>It was all wrong. The intruder came from the opposite side of the house and went in a different direction. The stranger was telling the truth. And for some unexplained reason, she was glad.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHunter, we\u2019ve got the wrong guy.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>His brows lifted in question, and she continued.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI saw the intruder, just as you got here. He ran out from behind my house and went that way.\u201d She lifted a hand, her index finger extended.<\/p>\n<p>Before Hunter could respond, a Doberman came bounding toward them and skidded to a stop at the open door of the car. The dog put both front paws in the man\u2019s lap and slathered slobbery kisses up one cheek, initiating peals of laughter.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNow you decide to show up. You almost got me arrested.\u201d Still laughing, he maneuvered to his feet. Not easy with two large paws in his lap and his hands cuffed behind his back. \u201cNo more jerky treats for you. At least till tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Hunter stepped behind him and inserted a key into the handcuffs. \u201cSorry about that. We don\u2019t get many break-ins here. In fact, we don\u2019t get any break-ins. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The stranger shot him a forgiving smile over one shoulder as the cuffs clicked open. \u201cNo problem. You were only doing your job. But I have to admit, this was my first time on this side of the handcuffs.\u201d He clipped a leash onto the dog\u2019s collar before extending his hand. \u201cBlake Townsend, Dallas P.D.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Hunter\u2019s brows shot up again. \u201cYou\u2019ve got to be kidding. I was arresting a cop?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFormer cop, actually. Injured on the job.\u201d He turned toward Allison. \u201cAnd you, milady, deserve a big thank you for getting me out of hot water. I at least owe you dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The smile he gave her reached his eyes, creating fine lines at their corners. His manner was joking, but something told her he was dead serious about dinner. And she was suddenly hit with a case of teenage shyness. She reached to smooth her hair, then dropped her hand. Why bother? The first impression was already made\u2014barefoot and bedhead. Not that it mattered.<\/p>\n<p>She returned his smile with one that she hoped projected confidence. \u201cThat won\u2019t be necessary. Your words were thank you enough.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He nodded, then looked at Hunter. \u201cIf you\u2019re done with me, I\u2019ll get Bozo here back to the boat. Next time you see us, he\u2019ll be on a leash.\u201d He frowned down at the dog who eyed him eagerly, tail nub wagging. One ear stood at attention, straight and sharp. The other made an attempt. But the top two inches flopped forward. The imperfection lent a comic element to his would-be ferociousness. \u201cI think he needs obedience training. He\u2019s usually a good dog, but when he sees a cat, his brain shuts down and he morphs into seventy pounds of pure, dumb instinct.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He turned and started down the sidewalk, favoring his right leg. Probably the injury he\u2019d mentioned. There was stiffness in his gait, as if he was trying hard to hide what should have been a pronounced limp after spending the last half hour chasing his dog.<\/p>\n<p>A cop. She had him pegged right. Maybe she was getting better at reading people. It was about time.<\/p>\n<p>When she returned her gaze to Hunter, he was grinning at her. \u201cChecking out the newest Cedar Key resident?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNot like you\u2019re thinking.\u201d Her cheeks warmed in spite of her flippant response. Hunter was a good friend. They had a lot in common, right down to their determination to avoid serious relationships with the opposite sex. She didn\u2019t know his reasons, but she knew her own. Serious relationships required trust, something in short supply lately, at least on her end.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLet\u2019s check out your place.\u201d Hunter\u2019s words cut across her thoughts. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a breaking and entering to investigate.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She squared her shoulders and started up the front walk, uneasiness descending on her with every step. Meeting the injured cop had been a nice reprieve. Now she had to face what she would find inside\u2014a broken window, the possibility of items missing from her house.<\/p>\n<p>And the end of the sense of security she had always known there.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Allison Winchester lay stock still, every muscle tight with apprehension. Something had awoken her. A noise. Different from the usual creaks and groans of the old Victorian. But all was quiet. Was it her imagination? The remnants of a dream? She eased into a semi-upright position and propped herself on her elbows. A full moon [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":24,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-46","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/46","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=46"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/46\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":47,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/46\/revisions\/47"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/24"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=46"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}