High-Caliber Holiday Read Online Free PDF Page B

She turned to close the door on him.
    He took a step inside to fulfill his promise to Darcie. “Could I get a glass of water before I head out?”
    â€œSure, of course.” She stiffened, belying her generous words. “I should have thought to offer you one.” She hung her coat on a hook and kicked off her shoes, visibly relaxing, and headed down a short hallway. She stopped to flick on a gas fireplace. “Have a seat, and I’ll get your water.”
    He stepped into the room, the heat from the fire already warming the small area. The space had hardwood floors, white bead board and chunky moldings reminiscent of the period. The walls were beige, the furniture traditional with red accents. A tiny artificial tree with equally tiny sparkling white stars sat on a small table in the corner.
    Perfection. Like from a magazine.
    Not a place where people like Brady actually kicked back and lived. Watched a ballgame and got snack crumbs all over the floor. After seeing Morgan’s designer clothing, he should have expected this. Just like Heather, his high school crush who had everything he didn’t. Big house. Fancy car. Nice clothes. All of it contrasted with his double-wide trailer and hand-me-down or thrift store clothes. Back then, he’d been fool enough to think Heather actually liked him, but she’d shut him down faster than a bullet from his rifle. So would Morgan if he was crazy enough to follow this attraction.
    Feeling like he could easily break the small sofa and chairs, he went to the window and stared onto the quiet street so in contrast with the shooting from earlier. His adrenaline had subsided and a headache was forming. He massaged his temples and tried to relax, but he felt jittery.
    If Morgan’s place wasn’t so unbelievably clean, he’d pull out his knife and the small hunk of wood that he always carried in his jacket pocket to whittle when he was left standing around.
    A scream pierced the air. Shattering glass followed.
    The kitchen. Morgan.
    Adrenaline rekindled in his veins. Hand on his sidearm, he closed the distance to the kitchen in a few strides. He stepped inside, his boots grinding over broken glass. Morgan stood by the sink, physically unharmed, but her face was whiter than the snow of a Minnesota blizzard from his childhood.
    â€œSomeone was here. He left—” Her words were barely more than a whisper.
    Brady turned off the running water and looked around. He saw nothing odd other than the glass she’d dropped on the floor. “Left what?”
    â€œThose.” She pointed at the countertop. “I didn’t leave them there.”
    Brady looked at the counter, then back at her ashen face. His pulse kicked into high gear, and he drew his weapon. It was a good thing he’d walked Morgan home. A very good thing.

FOUR
    B rady needed to check the other rooms for an intruder, but he also wanted to take a better look at the photograph lying under a long-stemmed red rose. He positioned his body so he could keep an eye on the door and still check out the picture.
    The downright creepy photo was of an engagement announcement from the
Oregonian
newspaper. A man sat next to Morgan, but his body had been erased with a picture-editing program, leaving only a silhouette with the words Your One True Love superimposed on it. The caption below read,
You are mine. You will marry no one but me
.
    â€œThis looks like a real announcement that someone modified.” He quickly checked her hand to see if he’d missed a big sparkling ring. Her finger was bare.
    â€œIt’s from my engagement to Preston Hunter. I broke it off a few months ago. Apparently some sicko thinks it’s funny.” She stared at the counter.
    â€œNot funny. Stalkerish.”
    A flash of horror widened her eyes. “You think I have a stalker?”
    â€œThat’s what I aim to find out.” He headed for the door.
    â€œWait,” she called out,