The Templar's Code

CHAPTER 19

Hearing a floorboard groan under a heavy weight, Caedmon froze.

The killer is inside the house.

His field of vision reduced to shadowy shapes and dark objects, he stood motionless. Holding his breath, he listened for a footfall. A swish of fabric. Anything to pinpoint the intruder’s location.

The entire house was silent as the grave.

Clever bastard, cutting off the electricity, he thought grudgingly as he tiptoed into the kitchen. Made him think the assassin had preternatural senses. Or the advantage of night-vision goggles.

He came to another standstill, taking a moment to review the kitchen’s layout in his mind’s eye — refrigerator on the right, stove on the left, Edie’s mobile on the counter next to the back door. And, most important of all, carving knife in the third drawer. He pivoted in that direction. In the near distance, a police siren shrilly blared.

Suddenly, nostrils twitching, he detected a familiar scent. Sandalwood. The same cologne worn by Jason Lovett’s killer. The bastard was here, somewhere in Edie’s kitchen. Hearing a sharp breathy inhalation, he intuited the deadly spring was about to uncoil.

Damn!

Like a mortar fired from a cannon, Caedmon launched himself at the cabinetry. Grabbing a knob, he yanked open the third drawer. Sundry kitchen tools loudly rattled. No time to choose, he grabbed the first utensil he laid his hand upon — a steel sharpening rod. Armed, he spun on his heel, weapon raised.

Just then, a beam of golden light hit his ocular nerve. Blinded by the unexpected burst of illumination, he shielded his eyes with his left hand while his right arm furiously slashed through the air, warding off an attack.

“Caedmon! It’s me!”

His pupils contracted, enabling him to see that Edie stood in the doorway, a flashlight grasped in her hand. “Get the bloody hell out of—”

“He’s gone.” She pointed to the opposite end of the kitchen.

Craning his neck, Caedmon saw that the back door was wide open.

“The neighbors called the cops. I’m guessing that when Rico Suave heard the police siren, he got spooked and ran off.”

Indeed, the strident blare had become louder in the intervening seconds.

“Thank God.” Exhaling a ragged breath, he walked over and closed the door, securing it with the chain latch.

“Lucky for us, Rico Suave’s survival instincts are stronger than his killer instincts.” Although the remark was uttered with a fair amount of bravado, the worry lines between Edie’s brows belied the bluster.

“Trust me, the latter are finely honed.”

Worry lines deepened. “Maybe we should cancel the trip to Rhode Island.”

Opening the metal door that housed the electric panel, he flipped the main circuit, flooding the kitchen with fluorescent light. “The sooner we leave Washington, the better.”

With Jason Lovett’s killer on the prowl, it would be foolhardy to remain.