BooksBarbecue
Back The Lying House
Chapters (103)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Praise
  4. Booklist
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. Epilogue
  102. Acknowledgments and a Personal Note
  103. Excerpt

“I’ve been to Cleveland a couple of times. I liked it. Has lots to offer. Did you leave anything behind that you miss?”

The question gave Jeff pause. He looked at Dillard, his lined face in the dark, then resumed watching the bait house.

“No, not really. Lisa’s ties to the city were stronger than mine.”

“How’s everything going at home?”

“What?”

“Since the attack.”

Jeff wasn’t sure why he’d ask that. “Fine, we’re doing fine.”

“The security system working okay?”

“It is, and thanks again for helping us.”

“Good. Your home should be a fortress. Lisa told us that you two want to start a family here.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Have you started?”

“What?”

“Your wife’s a very beautiful woman.”

Jeff’s head snapped to Dillard. “What the hell are you say—”

At that moment, Dillard’s earpiece gushed with a loud, excited transmission. “Okay, copy,” Dillard whispered into his radio. “Ned Tripp just spotted a man in black passing through the backyard behind the bait house.”

Pulling the binoculars to his head, Jeff saw movement in the shrubbery. “I see something—someone’s there!”

“Let’s go!”

“Go where?”

“I’ll go along the right side of the house by the carport, to close in on the backyard. You go directly toward the guy. It’ll force him back where I am. With Ned on the other side of the house, we’ll box him in.”

“We’re supposed to call police—”

“No time—he could get away. Let’s go!”

Taking the binoculars, Dillard moved swiftly across the street, disappearing around the far side of the house. Alone and unarmed, Jeff searched the ambient light. Grabbing a croquet mallet from the gazebo, he headed for the house.

Fixing his gaze on the darkness, he crouched, rushed to the front of the bait house, wishing Dillard hadn’t taken the binoculars.

Keeping his back to the house, making his way to the corner, he heard the soft clink of metal against metal, like a tool bag had been set down.

Pulse racing, Jeff edged his head around.

Under the narrow beam of a small headlamp, the masked intruder, dressed in black and wearing gloves, was working on a window. Angered by the creep’s brazenness, knowing Dillard and Tripp were there in the darkness, Jeff gripped the mallet tighter and shouted, “Hey! Watch patrol!”

The intruder looked up as Jeff stepped toward him, blocking his escape. Jeff raised the mallet, but it lightened as the hammer broke off with a thud, leaving a wrinkled ribbon of duct tape and the twig-like remnant of the handle.

The intruder lunged at Jeff, who glimpsed the flash of a blade in time to grab the guy’s wrist and throat. They fell to the ground, fighting, clawing, kicking, wrestling for the knife, the headlamp making everything convulse and strobe.

Where the hell were Dillard and Tripp?