Love To The Rescue Read Free

eyes.
    “Sometimes a single woman’s home is targeted by…”
    “A pervert,” whispered Amy, finally catching on. Fearful that she might discover lingerie missing from her dresser, she climbed the stairs to the second floor with lead-weighted feet. At least there’d be a female officer looking over her shoulder when she examined her underwear drawers.
    Amy walked directly to her bedroom and approached her dresser. She took a deep breath. She grabbed an ornamental metal handle in each hand, eased open the top drawer, and peeked inside. Her bras and panties lay in neat piles, folded just like she’d left them on laundry day.
    “Is anything missing?” Officer Wilson stepped closer.
    Amy shook her head and checked the other drawers that contained nightgowns, camisoles, slips, pantyhose. “Nothing has been touched,” she confirmed aloud, breathless with relief.
    “Good. I didn’t expect so, but you never know. We should check out the entire top floor.”
    The officer stood by and observed while Amy checked the master bedroom walk-in closet and peeked inside the rest of her bureau drawers. Thankfully, she’d made the bed this morning and tidied the bathroom after her shower. Habits ingrained by her mother, a meticulous housekeeper for most of her life. Until the tragedy struck. Amy shook off the bad memories; she wouldn’t go there now.
    “Nothing appears to be disturbed or missing.” Amy met Officer Wilson’s eyes. “Perhaps the intruder heard me pull into the driveway and fled before making it upstairs,” she speculated.
    “Certainly could be the case.” Sally Wilson nodded in agreement. “Check the medicine cabinets. Do you have any prescription drugs he may have helped himself to?”
    “There’s nothing he’d want, unless he can get high on multi-vitamins and birth control pills.” Amy remembered she’d shared the fact she was a widow. “Debilitating cramps,” she added.
    “Been there.” Sally smiled, understanding. “It’s highly unlikely anything is missing then.”
    After they inspected the other three bedrooms and the bathrooms including both medicine cabinets and discovered nothing amiss, Amy and Sally returned to the kitchen where Constable Robertson was talking with Leslie.
    “Maybe the kid targeted the wrong house?” suggested Constable Robertson, exchanging glances with Wilson.
    “What do you mean?” asked Leslie, wrapping a supportive arm around Amy’s waist.
    “There was a known drug house on the next street over, same house number.”
    “A drug house in this neighborhood. You’ve got to be joking,” blurted Amy.
    “No joke. We shut the drug house down a week ago, but maybe all the riffraff on the street haven’t gotten the word yet. The punk we just arrested certainly hadn’t.” Constable Robertson shrugged. “Or he just broke in when he spotted the cash on the dining room table and turned your place upside down looking for more money or drugs.”
    “Does that mean this won’t happen again?” Amy felt herself pale.
    The intruder’s menacing words rang in her ears: You tell the cops you can identify me, I’ll be back some night when you’re home alone. Amy’s heartbeat quickened. She was home alone every night. Obviously, the kid hadn’t been observing her house for any length of time, or he would know she lived alone. He just assumed more than one person would inhabit such a large house.
    Should she confide in the officers? Tell them about the kid’s threats? Or was the little thief just trying to frighten her with empty words? The police arrested him and hauled him away. Surely, he’d remain incarcerated. Unless the judge released him on bail or into parental custody? Oh God, if he was released, what was stopping him from delivering on his threat?
    Not. One. Damn. Thing.
     

 
     
    Chapter 2
     
    Constable Robertson met her eyes. “Could this happen again? Anything’s possible. I’m sorry I can’t give you positive reassurance that this was a one-time