The Templar's Code

CHAPTER 18

Edie heard rather than saw Caedmon dive off the couch in her direction. An instant later, his chest plowed into her shoulder, shoving her to the floor. Stunned, she opened her mouth, sucking in a gasp of air.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Then, a split second later, the realization dawned: “Oh God… it’s him, isn’t it?” Him being Jason’s Lovett’s killer.

Caedmon pressed his mouth to her ear. “Where’s your mobile phone?”

“Um… kitchen… charger… on the counter,” she rasped, unable to speak in full sentences.

“Right.”

Crouching over top of her, Caedmon grabbed her by the hand and pulled her off the floor, dragging her to the staircase in the foyer.

“Now what?”

“I want you to go upstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom. Do not, under any circumstances, come back downstairs.”

Shock having mushroomed into full-blown terror, Edie obeyed, taking the steps two at a time. Stumbling near the top, she made a wild grab for the banister. But not before painfully banging a knee against one of the stair treads. Her kneecap throbbing with pain, she hobbled down the hall.

Moments later, door securely locked behind her, she scanned the porcelain-and-tile confines of the bathroom.

She needed a weapon!

Lurching toward the cabinet above the sink, she yanked it open and took a quick inventory: medicine bottles, ear swabs, cosmetic bag, hairbrush, Band-Aids. Nothing even remotely dangerous. Panic swelling, she wiped a clammy hand against her skirt. Somewhere, in the shadows of her house, a killer lurked, intent on—

Plunger! The thick rubber cap was attached to a sturdy wood handle. If need be, she could use the shaft like a billy club.

With that thought in mind, she rushed over to the toilet bowl and snatched the plunger from its hidey-hole behind the porcelain tank. Tucking the plunger under her armpit, she went to the window. Palms pressed against the lower sash, she shoved upward.

The window refused to budge.

“Come on!” She balled her fist and pounded on the sash.

Teeth clenched, she tried again. Success! Opening the window to half mast, she scanned the alley. The fluorescent streetlamp on the corner buzzed and flickered, casting a surreal tangerine glow onto the row of parked cars and trash receptacles that lined the rutted lane. Several streets over, a dog repeatedly barked. Directly opposite, on the other side of the deserted alley, a light shone in the window.

Edie cupped a hand to her mouth. “Hey, you! Over there! Open the window!”

No one answered the summons.

The jackhammer insider her chest thumped faster. What if Caedmon can’t get to my cell phone to call the police? Rico Suave could kill them just like he killed Jason Lovett.

To hell with that! Grasping the plunger between her hands, Edie took aim and hurled it across the alley at her neighbor’s window.

The rubber end hit the screen window before bouncing off and landing in the alley below. Edie held her breath, hoping someone inside the house would investigate the commotion.

Nearly twenty seconds passed before a small Latino boy tentatively pulled aside the curtain and peered out the window.

“I need you to call the cops!” Edie hollered.

The child shook his head, uncomprehending.

She put her right thumb to her ear and her pinky to her mouth. The international sign for “phone call.” “Policía! Urgente!”

The little boy’s eyes opened wide. A few seconds later, he ran from the window. Edie had the sickening feeling that her plan just backfired, that rather than eliciting his help, she scared the bejesus out of the kid.

Her stomach painfully cramped, she stumbled over to the locked door and put her ear to the small crack between the jamb and the door. Caedmon was downstairs, in the dark, defenseless.

“Please, please, please,” she whimpered to the powers that be.

Because, in that terrified instant, it suddenly dawned on her: She no longer had a weapon.