Chapter 52

 

Sam speed-walked to the door, taking a moment to look out the half-window that faced the carriage house. The guy appeared to be hardly out of his teens. She didn’t see a vehicle and wondered where he’d come from. She stepped out to the portico.

“Hey, can I help you?” she called out.

He turned. Dark hair, pimples, thin frame. He wore a light jacket with some kind of garage logo on the breast. His name was probably on there but she couldn’t read it over the twenty-foot distance between them.

“I, uh …” his voice came out high and shaky.

“Look, son, you don’t have any business—”

Two more men stepped around the corner of the carriage house. One was about the same age as the guy she’d spoken to. His eyes were wide as he sent nervous glances toward the man beside him, an older man with a hard look. This one, who must be in his forties, held a gun.

Sam felt the blood drain from her face. Suddenly, she felt very much alone out here.

“Look, lady. We want no trouble. There’s something of ours in this garage. We just want to get it. That’s all. You stand right there and stay quiet until we get it, we’re fine. You reach for a phone or cause trouble …” He raised the gun to make his point.

“Door, Matt!” the older man shouted.

Sam thought he said doormat and couldn’t figure out what he wanted. The timid one who’d had his hand on the carriage house door reacted. He twisted the handle and it opened. She’d forgotten to lock it behind herself earlier.

The gun waved toward Sam again and she closed her mouth, raising her hands to show she wasn’t going to cause trouble. The leader said something quietly to the other young guy, who followed his buddy into the carriage house.

Sam took a breath, let it out, told herself they could have whatever they wanted and to let them leave without a fuss. But it wouldn’t be that simple, she knew. They weren’t out to steal garden tools or old trunks full of junk. Whatever they came here for, it was valuable enough to threaten a gray-haired woman in a baker’s jacket. She should be no threat to them, should be the type of person they could con their way past and take whatever they wanted. But the look in that one man’s eye told her he was either crazy or drugged. Either way, she didn’t dare take the chance he’d leave her as the only witness who could identify them.

“Got it yet?” he shouted to the two who’d gone inside.

Sam couldn’t hear the response, but she used the moment when the man turned his head to edge closer to the kitchen door. One more step …

He stared at her again. Her expression was bland and her hands still up.

“Dammit, Matt, where’s the bags?” This time there was all-out fury in the voice.

When he looked again toward the open door, she dashed. Into the kitchen, door locked behind her, she dropped out of sight of the window. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it thrumming in her ears.

Phone. She needed to call for help and mainly just keep herself safe until the men got what they wanted and left or until Beau arrived. She patted her pockets then remembered she’d stashed the phone in her pack when they arrived at the hospital earlier this morning.

A shout outside. “Hurry up!”

She reached for her pack, lifted it off the hook and sat on the floor to rummage through it. Her hand came in contact with the carved box and she started to set it out of the way. As soon as both hands connected with it, she heard a sharp sound. Gunshot? Door. The side door on the carriage house had slammed.

Closer by, she heard several clicks. What the—?

Locks. She realized she’d only turned the little doorknob lock here in the back entry. Now the deadbolt snapped shut as well.

Then she heard a noise behind her.