Lillian Duncan - Until Death Do Us Part Read Free Page B

his own paranoia, and then sit down to lunch. He’d call Reggie and the world would be right again.
    He inspected the area outside of the house.
    Noth ing wrong as far as he could tell.
    Dylan stood in the shadows of the trees— waiting and watching. When he was satisfied, he sprinted toward the house but his feet slowed as he approached.
    The garage doors were open.
    Dylan reached behind him and slid his gun out of the band of his jeans.

 
     
    CHAPTER 6
     
    Dylan’s blood pressure spiked as his gaze landed on the vehicles in the garage.
    All the tires on Billy Clyde’s van and SUV had been flattened. Step by step he searched the garage, looking in and under the vehicles. Empty. He crept to the door leading inside the house.
    He tried the knob. Not locked . His senses moved up to red alert. Putting an ear to the door, he listened. No sounds. He inched the door open and waited.
    Silence . No booming voice. No tinkle of Theresa’s laugh.
    His peeked inside.
    The kitchen was a disaster.
    The stools to the kitchen island were tipped over. Seve ral glasses had been knocked off the kitchen island onto the floor, probably during a struggle, and shards of glass were strewn all over.
    With gun in shooting position, h e crouched low and stepped over the threshold.
    Red was smeare d on the kitchen floor amid the broken glass. His mind flashed back to the broken jars of canned tomatoes from the morning. It seemed a long time ago.
    He bent down to inspect the mess. His finger touched the floor. Sticky.
    N ot tomatoes this time—blood.
    He put his finger on the trigger and moved through the kitchen and into the living room. Nobody. The only sound was the distant barking of the dogs. Were there people out back? He glanced through sliding door in the dining room that led out to the patio.
    He moved closer watching for movement outside.
    Nothing.
    He stepped into the living room. Neat and clean as usual. His gaze strayed back to the mess in the kitchen. Dylan whispered to himself. “What happened in here?”
    “About time you got here, Monroe.” Billy Clyde’s voice boomed.
    Dylan jerked and then covered his startle d reaction with a sheepish grin. Where was his voice coming from? “Everything ok?”
    “What do you think?” The voice boomed again.
    “Where are you?”
    “In the bathroom.”
    Dyl an rushed down the hall, but it was locked. “Can you unlock it?”
    “Don’t you think I would have if I could have?” Dylan heard the fury behind in his friend’s voice. “Kick it in.”
    Using a shoulder, he rammed the door. Pain shot through his shoulder . He was getting too old for this stuff. “You just had to use solid wood doors.”
    “Only the best for me.”
    Dylan slammed against the door once again, with the same results.
    “Come on, Monroe. You can do better than that.”
    On the third try, the crack of wood splintering brought a grim smile of satisfaction to Dylan’s face, but not for long. His friend sat in a puddle of blood. Hands and feet bound. Duct tape still clung to his chin, but Billy Clyde had managed to get it off his mouth somehow.              
    “Get over here , Monroe, and get me loose.”
    Dylan knelt beside him and reached behind the big man’s back to untie the cords binding his hand.
    “ Forget about untying them, just cut’em.”
    Dylan pulled out his pocket knife, and in one quick upward slice freed Billy Clyde’s hands from the electrical cord. “Where’s the blood coming from?”
    Billy Clyde’s tormented voice announced, “Theresa’s been kidnapped.”
    Th e shock of his words stopped Dylan for a moment, and then he focused back on his friend. “What’s the blood from?”
    “Didn’t you hear me? Theresa’s been kidnapped.”
    “I heard you but I need to know about the blood.”
    Billy Clyde pointed at his shoulder. ”They shot me.”
    Of course they shot him. It was the only way anyone could have hogtied the big man or kidnapped his wife. “How bad is