NOTHING. Carrie had a sinking feeling she was going to have to call Lori and have a very awkward conversation with her best friend.
Hi Lori, did your husband leave you a flash drive and some documents he may have stolen from his company that incriminated him and probably his business partner, too?Carrie’s jaw clamped. Nope, that was not a conversation she wanted to have with her best friend.
She turned toward the bathroom. Not all hope was lost yet. There was still the dressing room with its rows of closets to check, their brass handles gleaming dully in the darkness. She was about to turn toward it when she froze, hearing footsteps. They were soft, deliberate, and unmistakably human against the hardwood of the landing. Carrie tilted her head and pushed it slightly forward, listening. The footsteps were too light to beMatt’s and not fast enough to be Andy’s, who seemed to hurry everywhere he went.
Her throat tightened. She switched off her flashlight, plunging the room into stormy blackness.
Her eyes flicked toward the nightstand drawer where Lori had kept a small gun safe and where Carrie had locked her gun. The operative word was locked, and the footsteps were getting closer, and there was no time to unlock it. She turned and saw her tote bag on the wingback chair near the bay window. She dashed over to her and shoved her hand inside, grabbing her taser. She pulled it free, slipped into the corner shadows, and held her breath.
The footsteps stopped just outside the door.
The handle turned. The door eased open with a low creak.
MATT
The storm hit like a wall as Matt stumbled after Andy’s lantern. Wind clawed at him, rain stung his face like gravel, and the dogs barked somewhere in the darkness ahead. He heard Andy grunt, then saw him dragging a body across the ground toward the shelter of the toolshed.
Matt rushed forward, splashing through ankle-deep water. “Andy!”
“Help me!” Andy shouted, his words whipped by the wind. “He’s hurt badly.”
Together they dragged the unconscious man into the lee of the shed, where the storm’s rage dulled to a roar. Matt pulled his flashlight from his coat and shone it on the figure.
And shook his head at the man that lay in front of him, deathly pale and unconscious.
“Why would anyone risk being out in this storm?” Matt demanded, anger sharpening his voice.
“Because he’s a complete idiot,” Andy muttered. Then his voice tightened as he pointed. “His leg. Look.” He shuddered. “That’s a lot of blood.”
Matt angled the beam lower. The man’s sweatpants were soaked with blood. A deep gash ran across his thigh. His leg lay at an awkward angle.
Matt dropped to his knees, ripping the wet fabric wider. “I’m no doctor, but that’s bad. The leg might be broken. The gash is deep, but luckily there is no bone through the skin.”
Andy turned pale and looked away. “Sorry. I can’t stand the sight of blood.”
“Not many can.” Matt worked quickly, tearing more of the sweatpants and binding the wound tight. “We need a tourniquet.”
Andy yanked his belt free and thrust it at Matt. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Matt looped the belt above the wound and cinched it tight. The bleeding slowed. He exhaled. “That’ll hold. But we need to move him. Get him back to the house.”
Andy looked toward the seething blackness. “How? In this?”
“Carefully.” Matt braced himself. “I’ll sling him over my shoulder.”
Andy shook his head. “Don’t we need to keep his leg elevated?”
Matt gave him a grim smile. “We’ll have to take our chances.”
He hefted the man onto his shoulder. The weight nearly drove him to his knees, but he locked his jaw and adjusted his grip. “Let’s go.”
The storm fought them every step, but Matt pushed forward, following the faint glow of the lantern Andy carried as they made their way back toward the house, with the dogs keeping pace at his side.
CARRIE
The door creaked wider. A shadow slipped inside, hunched over like a comic villain tiptoeing into a place they shouldn’t be. He had a balaclava on.
Carrie’s pulse roared in her ears.
