4th of July

Chapter 137

I PULLED THE CAR just off the road and looked up at the house—a three-story column of glass panes and stucco. Two thin bands of light moved sporadically on the lower floor.

Flashlight beams.

Otherwise, the house was dark.

Clearly, people were inside who didn’t belong there. I slapped at the pockets of my denim jacket and got a sick feeling even before I knew that I was right: I’d left my cell phone on the table beside my bed. I could see it lying against the clock.

This was very bad news.

I had no car radio, no backup, and I wasn’t wearing a vest. If a crime was in progress, going into that house alone wasn’t a real good idea.

“Ali,” I said. “I have to go for help.”

“You can’t, Lindsay,” she said, her voice coming out as a whisper. “Everyone will die.”

I reached around and touched her face with my hand. Ali’s mouth was turned down, the trust in her eyes was heartbreaking.

“Lie down on the backseat,” I said to the little girl. “Wait for me and don’t move until I come back.”

Ali got down with her face against the seat. I put my hand on her back, patting her gently. Then I got out of the car and shut the door behind me.