Then silence once again.
With quick, measured steps, he headed toward the back room, gun ready. Adrenaline flowed, but he kept his breathing steady. The memory of the first time he’d entered the house haunted him. He felt as if he was in a time warp, déjà-vu kind of thing. Ignoring the sensation, he moved into the first bedroom on his left.
Marianna’s room. Empty. Except for shards of broken glass littering the area under her window and—his gut clenched—Twister, lying motionless at the foot of the bed.
* * *
Marianna cowered by the front door, torn with the desire to run and the determination to back up Ethan should he need it. Squaring her shoulders, she watched Ethan disappear down the hall, then crept over to the fireplace to grab the poker she’d considered earlier.
Hefting the weight of it in her right hand, she felt slightly more prepared to face the danger that lay just down the hall. Oh Lord, protect Ethan. And I know Twister’s just a dog, but please take care of him.
The hardwood floor vibrated once more, and she tightened her grip on the makeshift weapon, ready to swing if an unfamiliar face appeared in front of her.
But it was only Ethan, looking grim and tight-lipped. He held up a finger as he walked past her to the front door and yanked it open. Flashing red-and-blue lights fought for space in the small opening. The cops were here, she realized belatedly.
Her gaze followed Ethan’s retreating back as he flashed his badge to the two startled officers, who’d started grabbing at their guns the minute the door opened. At the sight of the badge and the man behind it, they relaxed. He said something and their posture tensed once again. One took off around the side of the house; Ethan went the other way, and the third man walked toward Marianna.
She looked at him. “What’s going on?”
“I’m Officer Tom Bell. Ethan thinks the guy slipped out of your bedroom window and headed off through those woods in the back. Ethan didn’t want to follow him out the window in case the guy left behind some evidence.” He kept his face turned toward her and enunciated his words clearly. Ethan must have told him she couldn’t hear. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or appreciative. She settled for appreciation…this time.
Within minutes the two men were back. The disgust on Ethan’s features said whoever had been in her house had escaped.
Dread crept around in her stomach, finally settling in a hard knot at the pit. She looked at Ethan. “Now what?”
“We need to get the crime scene team back over here and see if he left any evidence behind.” Concern slid across his face as he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Twister’s hurt. Who’s your vet?”
“Oh, no.” She whirled to rush back into the house. His hand grasped her upper arm, halting her progress. She spun around. “What?”
“Let me get him. I don’t want you destroying any evidence.”
“Is it bad?” Anguish squeezed her heart.
“I don’t think so. The guy hit him with the lamp from your end—” Ethan blinked, his attention caught by something behind her. She followed his gaze—Twister slowly made his way down the hall, his eyes cloudy with pain but fixed on his mistress. A trickle of blood made its way from the middle of his head down over his brown-and-black snout.
“Oh, Twister,” she whispered, dropping to her knees. He came slowly, weaving slightly. When he arrived at Marianna, he dropped to the floor with a cross between a whimper and a grunt to lay his head on her knee.
“Will you make the call for me?” She wondered if he could hear the tears she felt clogging her throat as she asked him the favor.
“Sure.” He squeezed her hand in silent sympathy and pulled his phone from the clip. She looked up the number on her BlackBerry and Ethan complied.
As once again her house flooded with authorities and crime scene investigators, Marianna gave her statement, then sat in the back of Ethan’s car, hugging her beloved pet to her as Ethan drove them to the vet’s office.
* * *
After leaving Marianna’s dog at the emergency veterinarian’s office, Ethan replayed his part in the scene of the break-in. What had he done wrong? How had he let the guy get away?
Fatigue gripped him. It had been a long while since he’d had a good night’s sleep. And now the sun crept toward the horizon. Soon it would be dawn…and he’d yet to go to bed. Oh well, he’d survive.
Marianna, however…“Hey,” he said as he touched her arm. She swung her head around to look at him. He kept his face angled toward her so she could see his lips but he was still able to keep his eyes safely on the road. “Where do you want to go, your parents’?”
She gave a listless shrug. “I guess so.”
“Twister is going to be all right. You heard the doctor.”
Marianna blew out a sigh. “I know and I’m grateful, but I’m also terribly frustrated. What is going on, Ethan?” Tears surfaced once again. He watched as she held them at bay with sheer determination.
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Marianna. I think you’re the only one who can really answer that. Unfortunately, you might not even know what you know.”
“Well, that’s clear.”
A rueful chuckle slipped out. “I’m sorry. I wish had something more to tell you.”
“I’ve racked my brain trying to come up with something. Why someone would kill Suzanne? Why did, possibly, the same someone come back to the house and was willing to break in with me there?” She turned thoughtful. “Although, he may not have known anyone was there, because I parked my car in the garage when I got home.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think he’s looking for something?”
Ethan pulled into her parents’ driveway and glanced at the dashboard clock. It read 6:42. “It’s certainly a possibility. At first, when I got to your house the day of the murder, I thought there’d been a huge fight in Suzanne’s room. But there was no evidence she’d struggled. So, it could be the guy was definitely looking for something. Could Suzanne have been involved in something shady? Something you wouldn’t have known about?”
“Absolutely not.” She spoke without hesitation. “Suze was a great girl and a devoted Christian. There’s no way she would be associated with something illegal.”
“Then the incidents may not be related. It’s possible our burglar read the story about Suzanne’s murder in the paper, did a simple online search to find out where Suzanne lived and decided to help himself to anything he could find.”
“Only I was there.” She frowned, her dark, finely arched brows coming together above the bridge of her delicate nose. “It mentioned me in the article, so he had to know she had a roommate.”
“Maybe. Then again, he may have figured no roommate would want to stay in a house all by herself after her friend had been killed in said house, and therefore he would have free rein.”
She rolled her eyes, her gorgeous, chocolate eyes. He blinked. She was saying, “There are so many possible explanations it makes my head hurt. Thank you for having my house cleaned up, by the way. That was a very thoughtful thing to do.”
Ethan could feel the heat rising to his face. He didn’t really know why he was embarrassed; it was just that her smile did crazy things to his emotions. He reached out to brush a finger under her hair, to push it away from her face, then moved his hand, cupping her cheek. “You’re quite welcome.” She looked…kissable. He leaned closer and let his hand slide to the back of her neck.
The porch light came on; a face appeared in the window. Ethan felt another flush start to creep up his neck as he slowly pulled back, turning from the watchful eyes