Police Protector

“No. So I couldn’t have been dreaming. And I wasn’t hallucinating,” she told him intently.

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Stop saying that!”

He spread his hands defensively. “Tell me again exactly what you saw, Kyra.”

“First I thought I heard whispering, but I wasn’t sure. I’d been running the vacuum cleaner and when I turned it off…” She looked toward the stairs. “I called out but no one answered. Then I heard footsteps running across the floor overhead. I ran upstairs but the rooms were all empty. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.”

Lucan heard the desperation in her rising tone. She took a deep breath, firm round breasts rising beneath her sweater as she pushed at her hair absently.

“I watched the patrol car drive past from the master-bedroom window. I guess I stood there for several minutes after they went past.” Her gaze defied him to criticize.

“You’re tired, Kyra.”

“Of course I’m tired! But I didn’t imagine that shadow at the end of the hall. I think Kip is in the house. I saw what I saw!”

Lucan heaved a tired sigh. “I’m not saying you didn’t.” He rubbed at the stubble along his jaw. Her call had pulled him from sleep and he was feeling as rough as his stubble. He’d tugged on the nearest clothes at hand and rushed over.

“I’m not crazy,” she repeated.

He closed eyes gritty from lack of sleep and opened them again. “I don’t think you’re crazy. Let’s go have another look around.”

“Then you believe me?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He started up the stairs and paused. “Did you check all the doors and windows?”

“Before I went upstairs.”

“But not since you thought you saw someone?”

“You think someone came in after I went upstairs?”

“I just want to get the sequence straight. Finding an open door or window might mean exactly that. Let’s take a look.”

“I suppose Kip could have a key to the house.”

Lucan nodded. “There are a lot of latch-key kids around.”

She trailed him as he checked the doors and windows in each room. Everything was locked tight and the plywood over the kitchen window was undisturbed. The kitchen was clean enough to meet his mother’s approval.

“You really have been busy.”

Wearily, she shrugged. “I did what I could.”

She followed him to the stairs. “I keep wondering if Milt did this out of spite. Casey said his temper is terrible when he’s drunk. Maybe she came home and found him trashing the house. I keep thinking he killed her, maybe all of them. Maybe Kip is the only one who got away.”

Her voice broke. He took her arm, turning her to face him. Tears filled her eyes and she looked down, blinking hard. Her coping mechanisms were starting to fail as lack of sleep battered her tired brain.

“You need to rest, Kyra. There’s no evidence to support anyone being killed here.”

“Then where is she? Maybe she came in and he strangled her or forced her away at gunpoint.”

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t do this. You aren’t helping Casey or the children by going to pieces.”

Anger, hurt and fear swam in her eyes. She closed them and took a shuddery breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not usually so emotional.”

He let go of her and stepped back, watching her draw on her fragile reserves. “I know. Let’s go up and have another look around.”

Kyra turned and began ascending the stairs.

“Does Casey’s ex own a gun?”

She considered before answering and when she did her voice was stronger, less emotional.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think Casey would have mentioned it if he did, but I barely knew the man.”

“What about Casey?”

She stopped near the top of the steps. “What do you mean?”

“Does she own a gun?”

Kyra started to answer and stopped. There was dejection in the sudden slump of her shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

The words were a whisper. Lucan nodded. “Could she be using drugs?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “You keep harping on that! I haven’t changed my answer. I can’t see Casey involved in drugs or condoning their use in any way shape or form. She loves her kids. She would never do that!”

No need to point out she didn’t seem to know her sister all that well. “But her new husband might?”

She continued up the stairs without answering. Experience told Lucan a drug connection was most likely the scenario behind this sort of destruction. That didn’t make it so, and he was keeping an open mind, but Kyra needed to accept the possibility.

He grimaced. Actually, she was handling everything far better than he would in her place. The woman needed some sleep. They both did.

Her cleaning efforts had stopped downstairs, he noticed after walking through each room once again. Nothing up here had changed. Lucan took the children’s step stool from the bathroom and used it to pull down the trap door in the hall ceiling. Narrow steps unfolded leading up to the attic.

“I didn’t even notice that.”

Kyra’s expression was dismayed.

“We did,” he told her gently, “but let’s look again.”

“A little boy wouldn’t be able to reach the pull-down even with the stool.”

“No,” he agreed and began to climb. “A child wouldn’t.”