Yardley sat up, completely disoriented by the dimness. She’d only meant to sleep half an hour. The locomotive sounds of wind traveling in a hard straight-line whoosh rattled the windows of the house a second time. But that wasn’t the sound that riveted her. It was the crying shriek of something wooden being pried loose.
She bolted to her feet, fumbling for the light switch of her bedside lamp. The glare was harsh, like being caught in headlights. Blinking against it, she saw that Oleg was already at the open door, his gaze fixed on something beyond.
A third burst of wind struck so hard, Yardley seemed to feel the assault through the walls. The sounds of banging joined the shrieking metal and crying wood. It sent Oleg darting into the living room barking furiously.
Heart lurching with the unexpected injection of adrenaline, Yardley reached for the flashlight she kept by the bed and followed the wolfdog.
As she entered the living room a lightning burst so blue-white it outshone the yellowish interior light stabbed her eyes. In the crack of thunder that followed, she recognized the source of the banging. It was the loose screen on a living room front window. She’d been meaning to fix it, along with half a dozen other things, for weeks.
Propelled by the next gust, the edge of the frame struck the glass sharply, moving that repair job to the top of her To-Do list.
As the crackle-slam of thunder rolled through the house, she rushed back into her bedroom. She pushed her feet into her boots, not bothering to tie them, and scooped up a jacket from a chair. As she hurried back through the rooms to the kitchen, she pushed her arms into the sleeves and zipped up. The temperature had dropped while she was asleep. The house felt cooler, and more empty than before. Yardley opened a drawer and grabbed a hammer and a screwdriver, then headed toward the front door.
Oleg crouched down with gaze fixed on the second of the three windows that fronted the porch. As she reached for the locks, he charged forward, trying to beat her out of the door.
Yardley shook her head. “Oleg. Zustan!” The K-9 froze and swiveled his head her way. He didn’t look the least bit happy about the command to stay. His gray fur twitched with nervous energy, as if he thought he could solve the problem if allowed out. “Stand down, guy. This is a job for opposable thumbs.”
A few thick cold raindrops thudded on the porch planking as she opened the door. Once outside, she saw the screen in the light of the porch bulb. Tethered by one hinge, it bounced and banged against the glass like an angry kite trying to free itself from a tree. Easy enough to fix. She shut the door behind herself.
Tucking her flashlight away, she grabbed the screen’s frame in one hand and reached into her pocket for the flathead screwdriver to pry the hinge loose. No time for niceties like trying to unscrew it. Despite the efforts of the wind to thwart her, she pried the screw out of the wood without much damage that she could tell. Smiling in triumph, she turned toward the front door.
A man stood beneath the porch light. In the seconds it took for his identity to register, he spoke.
“I’ve been watching and waiting for you all day. First that fellow with a dog showed up. Then the feds. But they’re all gone.”
Officer Vance Stokes, dressed as a civilian, had mounted the porch steps and stood a few feet away, just out of the rain. “Of course, I never thought it would be this easy to separate you from your dog. But then the wind came up and the screen started banging. And here we are. All alone.”
Too late she realized that Oleg had been far too agitated over the sounds of mere inanimate objects in a storm. He’d known or suspected someone else was out here in the gloom of the winter evening. An ugly sensation moved through her stomach as fat drops of rain struck her face. Still, this was her property. “Officer Stokes. Why are you here?”
“Did you get my holiday card?”
She didn’t answer, thinking now for the first time since she’d opened it of the red envelope with the obscene Photoshopped picture.
“Guess I forgot to sign my name.”
Yardley clamped down on the first insulting words that came to mind. No need to antagonize a man who was already angry. It didn’t show on his face. He was a cop. His feelings wouldn’t show until he was ready for them to.
“What do you want?”
“You sound more receptive to my requests today. Good to know.” Lightning flickered around them, throwing sharp angles of contrasting light and shadow over his features as if he were a character in a horror movie. Only this was very real. “I need you to write my K-9 sergeant and apologize for not giving me a dog.”
Yardley shook her head, holding the screen in both hands like a shield. “Our decisions are final. You show no aptitude for working a dog.”