Chapter 12
Harlyn
It’s nearly nine thirty by the time I head downstairs for the first time.
I forwent my usual routine of lounging in bed while scrolling on my phone for an hour then rousing for coffee for a long shower and shave.
Any other time, I would have thrown on my shower cap and used body wash only, but I have a date.
It feels weird to even think that, but it’s true, and I wanted to put a little effort into my appearance.
I’m too distracted by my phone to notice the strange sense of unease until my foot hits the cool hardwood floor.
The skin on the back of my neck tingles, and I have the urge to spin around to make sure there’s no one standing behind the stairs, but before I can fully rotate, my eyes land on the empty kitchen table.
My stomach drops, and not in a pleasant way. The folder I left right there in plain sight is gone. I scan the floor nearby, pretending that a nonexistent wind would have sent it sailing to the ground, but I find nothing.
The urge to run out the front door is almost as heavy as the lead in my feet keeping me rooted to the spot. The eerie sensation of being watched, of not being alone, ramps up until my entire body feels like I’m clinging to a live wire.
The sound of a doorknob turning nearby finally spurs me into action.
I take off in a full sprint to the front door.
It takes less than a heartbeat to unlock the deadbolt, but precious seconds longer to grasp the tiny lock on the knob and turn it.
I don’t think I’m even breathing when I rip the door open and fling myself out of the glass storm door and onto the porch where I slam into something and scream.
Firm hands wrap around my upper arms as I recoil, holding me in place. “Harlyn!” The bark of Boone’s voice startles me, but I manage to push my way past him and step into the driveway.
“There’s someone—” I point back toward the condo, unable to finish since I’m having such a hard time catching my breath.
“Who?” Boone asks, releasing my arms and putting me behind him.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see them. Just heard,” I explain, panting. When he makes a move to reach for the door, I grab his arm. “Call the police,” I urge, which gets me a shrewd glare over his shoulder.
“Go get in my car and call the police.”
“Come with me,” I implore, backing away, but he’s already opening the glass door and stepping inside the house.
Instead of going to his car, I stand in the driveway in clear view of the front door.
The split second I take my eyes off him to dial 911 from my phone, Boone disappears, and the panic I felt before returns, making me recognize that it subsided for a fleeting moment when I realized Boone was here and I felt safe.
“911, what’s the location of your emergency?”
“32059 Idlewild. There’s someone in my house.”
“Who’s in your house, ma’am?”
“I don’t know, I only heard them.”
“Okay. I have a unit heading to your address. Where are you in the house?”
“I’m outside.”
“Is there anyone else in the house?”
“Yes, Boone, he went in when I ran outside.”
“He went in to check for the intruder? Dispatch, be aware there is someone else in the house.”
“Yes, I told him not to, but he went anyway. He’s an FBI agent.”
“An FBI agent?” She sounds doubtful.
“Yes, he’s my… He’s helping me with my sister’s case. Please hurry. I can’t see him anymore.”
“You can’t see the agent or the intruder?”
“Both. How much longer?”
“They are on the way, ma’am. Stay on the line. Dispatch, be advised caller is indicating an FBI agent entered the house to check for an intruder. Ma’am, is the agent armed?”
“I don’t know. Can you please hurry? Oh, I see him. He’s coming out.”
“Ma’am—”
I pull the phone from my ear as Boone walks out of the front door, his brow furrowed.
“Are you okay?” I rush toward him.
“Are you still on the phone?”
I look down then nod before remembering to put the phone back to my ear. Boone motions for me to hand it over to him.
I don’t even hesitate. “Hello, this is Special Agent Boone Landry. I’m off duty and visiting a friend. I checked the house and didn’t see any evidence of an intruder. You can tell them to disregard.”
“What?” I look at the door, knowing what I heard and felt. Someone was in the house.
“Yeah, we will be here,” Boone says while looking into my face. His expression is guarded. I know that look. It’s the same one I would give my sister when she told me something I didn’t believe.
I take a step back. “I heard them. The doorknob turned. What about the file?” I add hastily.
“No problem,” he says before hanging up my phone and handing it back to me. “They are going to come by and check things out,” he tells me gently.
“Someone was there,” I defend.
“I’m not saying there wasn’t, but everything was locked up tight, Harlyn.
I didn’t see anyone or any evidence there was someone there.
What did you see and hear?” he questions in that same kind tone.
It grates on my nerves. His eyes dart over my shoulder, and I look back to find two police cars pulling up to the curb.
Their lights are on, but thankfully, their sirens are off.
Anger and embarrassment stiffen my spine. A male police officer steps out of the first car, his chest artificially large from the padded vest under his tight shirt, and a female arrives next.
Their approach is steady and measured, and both of their gazes are directed at Boone. “Hey there,” the male officer calls with a wave of his hand before he slides it to the butt of the gun on his hip. I’m not sure if he sees us as a threat or if it’s just routine.
“Hey, Special Agent Boone Landry, off duty.” He presents his badge with a flick of his wrist.
Both police officers lean in to get a look at the ID before glancing at each other then back at Boone, who is already putting his wallet into his rear pocket.
“Hawks,” the male introduces himself. “Who called?” He finally looks at me.
“I did. There was… I thought there was someone in the house.” I amend my words, though there is a slight bite in my tone.
“Did you see someone?” he questions with a slight tilt of his head.
“I… Something was moved. It wasn’t where I left it, and I heard the doorknob turn.” Saying it out loud makes it sound insignificant, which pisses me off. I’m not losing my mind.
“And you just happened by?” He turns his attention back to Boone.
“We have plans this morning,” he answers without hesitation.
“You went in knowing there could have been someone in the house?” The cop shakes his head, making sure we see his disapproval.
“There’s an ongoing issue. I didn’t want to chance them getting away, but—” Boone darts his eyes over to me.
“I didn’t see any evidence of a break-in, and I know Harlyn is careful about locking up.
I think this may have been a false alarm.
” His tone is soft, kind even, but it still feels dismissive.
I bite the inside of my lip to stop myself from making a snarky reply.
“Do you think it was a false alarm?” the female officer chimes in.
Forced to actually consider the question, I start to lose some of my resolve.
I know I’m paranoid and easily spooked, but this felt different.
I know where I left the folder, and it was not there.
“I don’t have any other explanation. If Boone says no one’s there, then no one’s there.
” I settle on answering the only way I can, so I don’t feel like I’m lying to myself and them.
“Mind if we take a look around?” she asks, already turning in the direction of the condo.
“By all means.” I gesture toward the door. When I move to join them so I can see for myself, Boone lightly grabs my wrist, holding me in place.
When I turn to look over my shoulder, I’m not sure what I was expecting from him—sympathy, irritation, or maybe even doubt—but I get none of that, because he isn’t even looking at me.
His eyes are searching the area around the condos and nearby clearing, as if he’s looking for someone.
A sliver of hope lances my heart. Maybe he does believe me.
“I searched the house, Harlyn. Every door and window was locked.” His voice is soft, as if he’s trying not to be overheard, but there’s no one around. Not even all this commotion has brought out any looky-loo neighbors.
“Okay,” I mutter slowly while allowing him to keep hold of my wrist.
“You went to bed shortly after I left,” he states, still assessing the surrounding area.
“Yes, after making sure everything was locked,” I confirm, growing more fervent by the second.
“There was something…” His eyes finally met mine, and there’s a hardness there that I hadn’t yet witnessed, not even when he told Macey to edit the interview.
“What?” I whisper.
Boone casts his eyes around again and says, “I’ll show you later.”
The fact that he says show, and his apparent reluctance to do it now, out in the open, speaks volumes. Without thought, I lean into him and wrap my arms around his torso. “Thank you for believing me. I thought you would think I was crazy.”
I’m just about to pull away when he returns the embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around me and lowering his head to the top of mine. “Of course I believe you.”
With those words, I pull back and look into his eyes. Damn, he really is stunning. “I didn’t believe Hayzel,” I admit, feeling disappointed in myself.
His hand comes up to cradle my cheek. It’s an intimate touch, one that makes me feel a riot of emotions I can’t sort out in the moment. “You can’t blame yourself for that, Harlyn. You couldn’t have known.”
“Yeah, but I could have believed her,” I murmur, dismissing how easily he lets me off the hook.
Boone’s lips twist like he might have more to say, but the storm door opens, and Officer Hawks gives a hearty, “All clear!” grabbing our attention and ending the tender moment.
“Nice place you got here. We cleared every room. Lots of windows. Maybe you saw a reflection of someone out by the water,” he offers with a flat smile.