Death's Door

The dog cocked his head and looked up at her. His eyes were tearing the way some poodles’ did, leaving brown stains on their fur. She wondered if something was wrong with the retriever. Maybe that’s why Erin had brought him home.

She led Aspen back inside. The odor she’d smelled earlier was worse now. She covered her nose with her hand. On the counter was a fly-covered pizza box clearly left over from Friday night. Typical Erin. She wasn’t much for housekeeping.

Next to the box was a manila envelope marked “Aspen.” Coiled beside it was a nylon leash. She held her breath while she opened the unsealed envelope and found a bill of sale inside for a male golden retriever, age three years and seven months.

Erin had purchased the dog for twenty-five dollars. Interesting. It wasn’t much for a purebred, but maybe something was wrong with it, like an eye problem. And it wasn’t Erin’s style to buy a dog. She didn’t believe in buying from breeders when there were so many homeless animals, many of whom had to be put down when homes weren’t found for them. Yet she had purchased this dog. Very odd.

Madison returned the paper to the envelope and closed it. On the back flap, Erin had written something so quickly that it was difficult to read. “Rob—Monday noon. Don’t be late.”

Interesting, she thought. Very interesting. Madison had always believed Erin and Robert Matthews were meant to be together, but they’d broken up. Erin hadn’t mentioned the veterinarian in months.

Madison decided to leave the dog in the kitchen. Obviously, Erin had her reasons for keeping Aspen there. She opened the door to the small space that served as a living room with a dining area off to one side. With all the blinds drawn, it was hot, dark and uninviting.

She let the kitchen door close behind her. A denser cloud of the horrible, cloying smell saturated the air. The stench sent her stomach into a backflip. A fly zoomed by her nose, closely followed by a second one. The odor of urine was also present. That must be why Erin had left the dog in the kitchen. He wasn’t properly trained.

Despite the room’s darkness, she managed to spot her silver cell phone gleaming on the coffee table where she’d left it. She charged forward to pick it up and nearly tripped over something protruding from the shadows between the sofa and coffee table.

A bare foot.

The thought scarcely registered when she saw something on the floor. A naked body? She squinted, her eyes adjusting to what light had stolen into the room. The form was sprawled across the carpet, dark brown hair streaming like a banner. Her limbs were splayed, one arm bent beneath her and the other flung outward, palm up. The open hand seemed to capture a shaft of light that was seeping in from between the blinds. Around the neck was a red scarf pulled so tight the head torqued to one side.

All Madison could make out in the semidarkness was the side of the woman’s face. Erin! No. It couldn’t be.

She sucked in a terrified breath as goose bumps pebbled her skin. For a heartbeat she couldn’t move. A burning, wrenching sensation gripped her stomach and a wave of throbbing dizziness hit her. Madison heard a jagged, high-pitched shard of sound rip through the air, but it was a second before she realized she’d screamed.

A thousand thoughts pinwheeled through her brain. Erin. How could she be dead? Her friend had always been there—a constant presence in her life—even more reliable than her own mother.

She forced herself to edge closer just to be sure. A few strands of hair covered the naked woman’s face, its skin like white candle wax. Erin. No question about it.

Why? Why? Why?

She stood near her friend, her mind barely taking in what she saw. Details registered like freeze-frame images. A wet stain pooled around Erin’s thighs. A drop of dried blood lingered at the corner of her mouth. One knee was swollen, the purplish skin so tight that it seemed ready to burst. A bulging blue eye stared sightlessly at the beige carpet beneath her. The white part of her eye was bloodred.

Madison’s vision had grown accustomed to the dark. Now, she noticed evidence of a frantic struggle. Furniture was knocked out of place. Pictures on tables had fallen and plants were overturned. By some quirk of fate, the coffee table where her cell phone had been was still upright.

Suddenly, a hand clamped across her lips. Pulse misfiring, her mind attempted to grapple with the situation, but panic shredded her brain like shrapnel.

A single thought registered: the killer!

All her instincts told her that she was a heartbeat from death. The will to survive kicked her body into gear. She flailed, biting the huge hand over her mouth and jabbing her elbows in a futile attempt to free herself. Powerful arms locked around her and brought her against the solid wall of a big chest.

“Be still,” a deep, masculine voice ordered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She wasn’t buying that bridge—not with her murdered friend less than a foot away. She kicked backward and landed a blow with the heel of her shoe.

“Stop it!” He had a death grip on her now, squeezing her so tight the air in her lungs turned to cement. “I’m trying to help you.”

“L-lemme go.” She worked hard to keep hysteria out of her voice, but detected its shaky undertone in every word.

“Screaming isn’t going to bring her back.”

Suddenly, it dawned on Madison that she hadn’t stopped screaming from the moment she’d spotted her friend’s body.

CHAPTER TWO

How far away can a fly smell a dead body?

MADISON TEETERED, feeling light-headed, grabbed the back of the sofa for support and closed her eyes for a second, her fragile barrier of control slipping. Get a grip, she told herself. The air was so tight in her lungs that she could hardly breathe. But the thump-thump of her heart filled her skull and made it difficult to think. Even with her eyes closed, she kept seeing Erin’s lifeless body. She opened them and found the dark-haired man from the street gazing down at her.

He handed her a cell phone and calmly said, “Call 911. I’m going to check the rest of the house just in case.”

The man’s calm, cool attitude told Madison that she’d been mistaken. He really was trying to help her, as he’d said. He wasn’t the killer. That man was long gone but his evilness remained, hanging over the small house like a noxious cloud.

Madison’s eyes dropped to the body prone on the carpet. “Don’t leave me.”

The man touched her arm and prodded her in the direction of the kitchen. “Go out back. You’ll be safe.”

Madison stumbled toward the kitchen, managed to open the door and lurched to an upright position on the other side. She gulped hard and air rasped down her throat, then thundered into her lungs. She swayed for a moment, the numbers on the keypad of the small cell phone swimming in front of her. Something brushed against her leg and she gasped out loud but managed not to scream when she realized it was just the dog, standing beside her, tail swishing.

She gazed down into his soulful eyes and something unexpected tugged at her heart. Erin must have cared deeply about the dog to bring him home even though she knew a pet could mean eviction from a bungalow she’d described as “perfect.” Had this poor animal seen the killer, heard the desperate struggle in the other room?

The screech of tires on the street outside jolted her. Call the police! She punched the numbers and hit Send.

“Nine-one-one. Please hold.”

Hold? Erin was dead. Getting an ambulance here fast wasn’t important, but what if someone—

“What is the nature of your emergency?”

“M-my f-friend’s been killed.” Madison choked on the words. It was almost as if saying them made it true. If she didn’t utter them, Erin would still be alive.

“Does your friend have a pulse? Have you cleared the air passages?”

Madison mumbled her replies, trying to make the overly calm, patient woman understand. Erin had been murdered. As she talked, she spotted the envelope and leash on the counter and made a split-second decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. She shoved the envelope into her purse, which by some miracle was still slung over her shoulder. She snapped the leash onto Aspen’s collar.

“What is your address?” the emergency operator asked.

Madison went blank. She could find her way to her best friend’s house easily but didn’t recall the number on Sawgrass Terrace. “I’m on a cell. I’ll go outside and check the number.” She plowed through the small kitchen and service area, Aspen in tow. Outside, the sun was blistering a path across the sky. In shimmering waves, moist heat rose from the grass in back of the house.

Madison squinted. How could it be so bright and sunny when Erin was dead?

“You’re at fourteen eleven Sawgrass Terrace. Correct?”

From back here, Madison couldn’t see the house number but knew it was correct when she heard it. The man’s cell phone must have a GPS chip in it. Most cell phones couldn’t transmit the location so quickly. “Yes.”

The operator told her help was on the way and to stay on the line. She snapped the phone shut. Why remain on the line? Nothing the operator could say would help Erin now.

The door behind Madison slammed and she spun around. The man who’d heard her frantic screams walked toward her. She’d been so upset that she’d only had the vague impression of a tall, powerfully built man with dark hair and eyes. His hair was indeed dark brown, almost black, but his eyes were a deep blue that had only appeared brown in the gloomy house.