Pulling it free, she entered her password and dialed the number one contact on her list. She put the device to her ear and waited, praying the person she’d called would answer.
Two rings later, they did.
“Did you change your mind about tonight?” Megan traded a more traditional salutation for a question.
“H-hey, Meg. Do you, uh….” She cleared her throat. “Do you think maybe you could come here before the movies instead of meeting there?”
A slight pause filled the phone’s speakers before her friend responded with a hesitant, “Sure. Is everything okay?”
“I-I don’t know. I mean, yeah. Yes. I’m sure everything’s fine, I just…”
“Ro.” Megan used the same kind of tone a mother would to a fibbing child.
“Okay, look. I really, really need you not to make a big deal out of this, okay?”
“I can’t make that promise without knowing what’s going on.”
“I can’t tell you what’s going on without you making that promise.”
Another pause. “Okay, fine. I promise I won’t make whatever you’re about to tell me into a big deal.”
Ro felt mildly better, but there was still one other promise she needed her friend to make. “There’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You can’t tell Brody.”
She could practically hear the other woman’s frown when Megan said—
“Brody? Okay, now you really are starting to scare me.”
Yeah, well, I’m starting to scare myself.
“Promise you won’t say anything to your brother. Or Christian.” How could she forget about Christian?
“I won’t turn this into a big deal, and I won’t tell my brother or fiancé. Now will youpleasejust spill it already?”
Ro looked at the pile of clean laundry now strewn about her floor. She thought about the panties and the coffee mug. The back door and her mom’s missing jewelry. That gut feeling of being followed she hadn’t been able to shake most of the day.
And with a deep inhale, followed by a long, controlled exhale, she finally said aloud what she’d been afraid to admit she was thinking…
“I think someone’s been in my house.”
5
A few minutes earlier…
Brody tightenedhis grip on the MK12 SPR, or Special Purpose Rifle. The lightweight sniper rifle felt like home in his hands, its threaded-muzzle free floating stainless steel barrel holding steady as he brought his newest target in the center of his sights.
Knowing it was his last shot of the day, he wanted to make it count. With his belly on the ground and his trigger finger lowering, he curled it around the cool, curved metal.
Waiting for the passing breeze to calm, he took a deep breath and held it. And then he began the countdown…
Three.
Two.
One.