Detective John Mingram stayed behind the damned house all day, pacing back and forth while muttering expletives. Later, when Carrie hadn’t returned so that he could get to her, his mutterings devolved into what he was going to do to her when he finally got his hands on her.
Unbeknownst to the furious detective, Carrie had been safely ensconced in one of the officers’ barracks on the Army base, assigned there by General Kelly himself. It wasn’t exactly standard practice to house civilians in military quarters, but because of the general’s position and rank, no one asked questions.
Meanwhile, Sheriff Richard Davenport developed a plan. Mike, Derick, Joe, and Zeke as well as several police officers, and the department’s only female detective, Sandy McLean, who was of similar height and build as Carrie, all worked up the plan, determined to catch this guy in the worst possible light.
With the technology available, the Delta Force team members and police officers went to work. The impromptu party at Carrie’s house was really just a cover so that the police could set up the surveillance cameras throughout the property. They knew that Carrie’s ex-boyfriend was lurking in the area somewhere. So they’d come up with this party as a way to hide their efforts.
There were “beers” involved, and several of the female officers were more than happy to offer their services. With several members of the task force hanging out on the back porch while others worked inside, another team member moseyed over to the area where John was lurking. With a beanbag gun in hand, the soldier moved into position and fired into the woods. Several times, actually, hitting the unsuspecting John in the arm, the ribs, and both legs.
Then, the soldier rushed over, smothering his laughter as he came over to apologize.
“Hey! I’m so sorry! I thought you were the raccoons that have been messing with my garbage cans late at night!” the soldier explained.
“You idiot!” John hissed, trying to keep his voice down as the pain sliced through his leg and his ribs. Turning, he glared at the idiot coming out of the trees. What a jackass!
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded. A private! He’d been shot by a freaking bean bag by a private!
The guy approached, his hands held up, palms out. “Like I said, I thought you were a raccoon!”
“Do I look like a freaking raccoon to you?”
John could have sworn that the ass was laughing at him, but it was too dark right now to really see the man’s features. Plus, he couldn’t walk over to the guy and demand answers since John knew he wasn’t supposed to be here. Not even his boss knew that he was here in Alabama.
“No, sir! I just heard a noise and…” he shrugged. “It’s just a bean bag. Shouldn’t do much damage.”
John wanted to punch the guy. But he kept his mouth shut, limping off since he wasn’t supposed to be out here.
Carrie was having a freaking party while he was out here waiting for her to be alone, hurt by an idiot with a bean bag gun! She was definitely going to pay!
The following day, Detective Sandy McLean stepped out of the beat up old pickup truck and into the night air, pushing the sunglasses higher onto her nose, and tugging the hat down. She wore baggy jeans and a baggy tee shirt, all of which hid her weapon, Taser, and cuffs.
There was an extra bit of energy in the air tonight. This was it, she thought as she used Carrie’s key to unlock the front door. She could feel it in her bones.
Walking into the kitchen, she turned on the lights and poured herself a glass of water. Standing at the window, she listened to her earpiece as the surveillance team monitored the asshole who was trying to sneak up on the owner of this house.
Damn, she loved this job! Sandy moved up the stairs, turning off the lights as she left one room and made sure to turn on the lights as she moved to the next. The lights provided the jerk hiding in the woods with a perfect path to follow as Sandy moved through the house.
Sandy had seen the pictures of Carrie after that one beating. She understood what the woman had gone through, how she’d hidden away from the abusive ex-boyfriend. And because of those pictures, because of how Carrie had dealt with the aftermath, Sandy was determined to catch this asshole! Too many men smacked women around. This one wasn’t going to get away with it!
In the bedroom, Sandy’s lips pressed together. Air bag for a mattress. Sleeping bag. The woman hadn’t even gotten a real bed. Carrie’s clothes were stacked neatly against the wall, a duffle bag open and ready at the end of the line.
Just in case she needed to leave quickly, Sandy knew. That was the same reason why Carrie hadn’t spent any money on furniture. She’d need her assets to remain liquid so that she could move on quickly at the slightest threat.
Sandy understood the drill and wished the world was different. Things were changing, but it was still a harsh world for so many women.
She walked into the bathroom and pretended to brush her teeth, then straightened her wig. From a distance, she could pass for Carrie…but up close, one would easily figure out she was a decoy.
Sandy pulled off her jeans, trying to move around the room just as Carrie would when getting ready for bed. The leggings underneath the jeans kept her from actually being naked during the upcoming takedown. She then slipped her pistol under the pillow, and turned off the lights. For a long moment, she contemplated going over to the window, just to look out and let the asshole know that she was here, waiting.
But that wasn’t something Carrie would do, so instead, she sat down on the floor and waited. Carrie wasn’t a victim, Sandy thought. Carrie might be scared, but hell, who wouldn’t? The woman wasn’t a victim. She was a survivor! A damn good one, she thought!
In her earpiece, she heard the words of warning, “He’s coming to you, Detective.”
Sandy slid along the floor to get in a better position to see the door. It was easy to do since there wasn’t a lot of furniture. Even so, she slid quietly, listening intently. There were no sounds anywhere but from her earpiece.
“He’s at the doorway,” one of the officers announced.
“The video has been confirmed, correct?” Sandy recognized the voice of Sheriff Davenport, her boss.
“Confirmed,” another officer responded.
“Confirmed and recording,” yet another said. Sandy knew that the second voice was from Andy who was the tech officer and was stationed half a block away, sitting in the police van.
“He’s in. Detective McLean, standby.”
Sandy heard the words and readied her weapon. At the last minute, she moved, shifting towards the side of the doorway and holstering her weapon.
“Carrie!” a male voice called out. There was a shattering of glass. Apparently, the jerk had dropped several of Carrie’s plates onto the kitchen floor. “I can’t believe you’re living in this dump, you bitch!”
Sandy slowed her breathing, picturing him as he moved through the kitchen.
“You know I’m going to kill you this time, don’t you Carrie?”
Sandy smiled, feeling the adrenaline shoot through her. “It’s going to be really slow. I’m going to have fun killing you, my little darling. You escaped from me last time. I won’t risk it again!” He laughed. The bastard actually laughed at the idea of killing a woman! What a bastard!