Read Bed of Bones (A Sloane Monroe Novel, Book Five) for Free Online Page B

wonder, the next summer I walked my elderly neighbor’s dog every day before sundown. She paid me ten dollars a week. I cut a slit in the lining of my bedroom curtains with my father’s carpenter’s knife and stuffed the money inside. A few nights I caught him stumbling into my room before bed and muttering “son of a bitch” when he stumbled back out. When I went in after him, some of my dolls and stuffed animals had been strewn about, but he hadn’t touched the drapes. He wasn’t smart enough. Or sober enough. Or both.
    He never found the money.
    And four weeks later, I bought my bike.
    With the extra law enforcement in town, there were too many suits milling around for me to sneak over to the scene—at least for now. I’d have to start somewhere else and without the assistance of Maddie. I wasn’t the only one who’d be sitting this one out.
    …
    When I rounded the corner for home, I observed a faint glow radiating through the vertical blinds in my living room, casting a ray of light onto the wood decking on my back porch. There was only one problem with this scenario: thanks to my overwhelming desire to conserve energy, I never left anything more than a front porch light on when I wasn’t home. Not ever.
    I considered Giovanni’s warning earlier that day, but I still didn’t want to believe it.
    Was I in denial?
    Could it be true?
    Was someone after him, and, more importantly, had they come for me?
    My concern escalated when the living room light flickered off for a moment and then back on again like a lighthouse sending an accidental signal. Only it wasn’t a signal at all—it was a human shadow crossing the room.
    Panic gripped me.
    I’d left my Westie with a neighbor while I was supposed to be vacationing in Vegas, but when I spoke to her earlier in the day, she said she’d put him in my bathroom while she went shopping in Salt Lake City with her sister. It was just after nine o’clock. I called her. She was still at the mall, and she hadn’t left any lights on in my house.
    If an intruder was in the house, why wasn’t he barking?
    I swallowed, forcing myself not to assume the worst. I couldn’t. Not yet.
    I switched my headlights off and coasted to a stop. Without taking my eyes off the back porch window, I eased my hand down the side of the car door, lifting my 9mm semi-automatic from the pocket. I pulled back on the slide, racking a round into the chamber.
    In seconds I’d made it to the side of the house. With my back firmly pressed against the wood exterior, I inched my way over until I’d reached the edge. I drew my gun and poked my head around the corner.
    I saw no one.
    But I heard humming.
    Someone was humming the tune of a song I’d never heard before. Whether the voice was male or female, I couldn’t tell. I eased the back door open with the tips of my fingers, stepped inside, and aimed.

CHAPTER 9
    With my free hand, I flipped the switch on the wall while holding the gun steady in front of me. Light illuminated the room. The petite frame in front of me swaying her hips from side to side was female, but in a baseball cap, and with her backside to me, it was impossible to assess her age.
    I yanked the earplugs from her ears.
    “Face me and put your hands where I can see them,” I demanded.
    She didn’t turn around.
    I cleared my throat. “I asked you to face me. Do it. Now.”
    She turned around, hands held partially in the air, fingers curled toward me, zombie style. She wore a jean mini skirt and a t-shirt tight enough to get her a job as a HOOTERS girl.
    I gasped. “Shelby?”
    “Can I put my hands down now or are you plannin’ on makin’ a citizen’s arrest?”
    She flung her head back and snorted a laugh.
    Shelby McCoy was the daughter of a detective I’d worked with a few months earlier on a missing children’s case I helped solve in Wyoming. She was rude and obstinate, and even worse, a teenager. We didn’t get along.
    “How did you get in here?” I said.
    “You