Presumed Guilty. Dana R. Lynn

drawn, but a small sliver was still open at the outside edge. He peered inside. He could barely make out Melanie’s shape under a pile of blankets on the couch. Her face was turned away from the window, but a mop of brown hair was visible.

      He couldn’t do anything about that now. He’d make sure to mention it to her in the morning. He completed his circle around the house and returned to the cruiser. When he drifted off to sleep again, his rest was easier.

      Three hours later, he jolted awake again. A feeling of unease slithered down his spine. Something was wrong. He could sense it. Gathering up his gun and his phone, he threw open the door and loped across the lawn to Melanie’s front door. The entire way he muttered a litany of prayer under his breath. He might not know where the danger lay, but God knew.

      “Lord, You are in control. Help us.”

      When he arrived at the door, his blood froze.

      Attached to the door with black electrical tape were three pictures. Him, asleep in his cruiser. Melanie, out like a light on the couch. Except in this picture, her face was visible.

      The third picture showed Jace and Melanie together as they stared at the mannequin the night before. His muscles bunched and a spasm of rage shot through his gut as he remembered Melanie’s terror. Someone was playing a game, all right. Jace didn’t intend to let them win.

      He ran back to the car and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and a sealable bag from the glove box. Pulling out his cell phone, he took several pictures of the doorway for evidence and sent them in an attachment to Paul. Then, working quickly, he used his pocketknife to scrape the tape holding the pictures off the door. Pulling the pictures free, he placed them in the bag, sealed it and then slipped it into his coat pocket.

      He realized he could procrastinate no longer. The unmistakable sounds of someone moving about inside told him Mel was awake. Reluctantly, he raised his fist and rapped on the door.