of the streetlights were out. From a house across the street, rap music thumped through quality speakers. A car belched smoke and screeched away from in front, leaving two junkers at the curb and a low-slung sedan in the driveway. Drug house.
Brody headed up the walk toward the stucco dwelling. The doorway eased open several inches, and a narrow pillar of light spilled onto the tiny ragweed lawn.
“That you, bro?” Damon’s voice quavered toward him.
“In the flesh.”
The door opened wide, and Brody stepped into a musty-smelling foyer that barely contained the two of them. The towering basketball player wrapped him in a bear grip and dropped his head to Brody’s shoulder. Sobs shook Damon’s whipcord frame.
“I shouldn’t have done it…” Gulp. “But that woman, she—”
“What are you talking about?” Brody shoved Damon against the wall. “Don’t tell me—”
“You didn’t see Alicia. You don’t know anything!” Damon’s muscled shoulders drooped. If despair had a face, Brody was looking at it. “That other woman,” Damon continued. “The way she looked at me made me want to hurt her, but I just—”
“Brody Jordan.” The hoarse words brought both of their heads around. In an interior doorway stood a rail of a woman dressed in a stained T-shirt and dirty jeans that sagged around bony hips. Thin lips stretched away from yellowed teeth, and the acrid taint of cigarette smoke, mingled with a harsher kind, wafted from her body. But Brody’s stare riveted on the .45 pistol she clutched in white-knuckled hands. “I never thought I’d say this to you, but get out of my house. You’re not taking my boy to jail. They’ll never let him out.”
Brody gazed into Meghan Lange’s dilated pupils. Here stood the reason that Damon was born and raised an emotional yo-yo, but the woman loved him the best she could. There was no doubt about that. And right now, there was no more dangerous creature in the world than a terrified mother on drugs.
Hallie stopped her car behind Brody’s and sat squeezing the steering wheel. Did she dare step foot outside in this neighborhood? She glanced around the area. Had Brody gone inside the house where the music blasted or this other one where the door stood open? Under her rearview mirror light, she checked the address Vince had given her over the phone after she’d lost Brody. She looked at both homes, but couldn’t read the house numbers in this darkness.
Well, she was always one to take a chance on the open door. She tucked her cell phone into her jeans pocket. As soon as she confirmed Damon was present, she’d make her call and scoot. Gripping her car keys in her fist, one key poked outward for a quick jab into an eye if necessary, she hustled up the chipped and weed-ridden sidewalk. Somewhere in the shadows to her left, a snap sounded. Hallie froze, muscles wired for flight. For long seconds, all she heard was her own pulse. Then a woman’s voice grated from beyond the doorway ahead. Brody’s tones answered, smooth as butter. Placating.
“Mom, put that thing away,” a third voice rasped. Damon? “You’re so wasted, you’re as likely to shoot me or yourself as anyone.”
Shoot? Hallie’s heart fluttered. Brody was in danger, just like she’d warned him, but not from the source she’d anticipated. What could she do about it?
Her hand closed around the phone in her pocket, but that wasn’t the whole answer. The police couldn’t get here fast enough to stop the tragedy that could occur at any second. Maybe there was a rear entrance. If she could sneak inside and create a distraction, Brody might get the gun away without anyone being hurt. That was a big “if,” but better than walking inside and giving the crazed woman another target.
Hallie darted across the lawn toward the left side of the house. Her peripheral vision caught Brody backing out the front door with his hands in the air. She reached the narrow strip of ground between houses and plunged into darkness. A low growl ahead stopped her in her tracks. Then a hiss and rustle indicated a retreating feline. Who knew what else lay ahead of her? What was she thinking trying to creep around the dark in this neighborhood? She needed to call the police right now! Hallie yanked the cell phone from her pocket, and her fingers found the keys. 9-1—
Crash!
That was no gunshot. Male voices shouted, one of them Brody’s, and a woman started crying. Hallie backpedaled and poked her head around the corner of the house.
A scarecrow woman stood on the front lawn, wringing her hands. “My window!”
The front window sported a jagged hole, Brody now clutched the gun, and the lanky Damon wrapped his mother in his arms. No one else was in sight, but from somewhere nearby, tires screeched on pavement.
Gaze darting from side to side, Hallie hustled up to Brody. “What happened?”
“What are you doing here?” He glared at her.
“I was trying to save your bacon, but then this.” She gestured toward the shattered pane.
“You didn’t throw a rock?”
“No, I was sneaking around back.”
Brody scowled. “You win the Girl Scout badge for tracking me, but you need to get out of here. Now!” He turned toward the noisy house across the street.
Her gaze followed his. A pair of dark figures lurked by the fancy car in the driveway. Their unseen stares crawled beneath her skin. “What about you?”
“I’m not a beautiful woman, and besides, Damon and I are leaving, too. I called and got police blessing for me to bring him in, rather than them coming for him. Now go!”
Hallie glanced across the street and gulped. The watchers had moved to the end of their driveway. Brody took her elbow and steered her to her car. She hopped in, slammed the door and locked it, then lowered the window a crack. “Aren’t you leaving now, too?”
Brody stood on the street with his back to her, eyeing the observers, Damon’s mother’s gun in plain sight. “You’re the spark that could set this situation off. I’ll be fine. Trust me, please, and get moving.”
Hallie started her car. A hasty retreat could be a wise thing once in a while. She peeled out. The rearview mirror showed Brody walking back toward the mother and son on the lawn. The other two men were retreating to their own domain as well.
Invisible clamps loosened from Hallie’s chest, and she took in a deep breath. Was Brody really going to bring Damon in, or was he playing her?
“Trust me,” he’d said. That was a novel idea where the WDJN sportscaster was concerned. Still, Brody had called her beautiful a few minutes ago. Her skin warmed. Humph! Like that compliment meant anything. In the breath before that, he’d equated her with a Girl Scout. He might as well have patted her on the head and offered to buy a box of cookies. But then, he had looked pretty impressive standing there with a gun between her and those thugs across the street. Of course, he was thinking about his own hide at the same time, not to mention looking out for that slime Damon and his wigged out mother.
Reaching a main thoroughfare well away from the shady neighborhood, Hallie popped open her cell phone and dialed. “Hello, Vince? Remember that favor I owe you?”
“What? I’m about to collect already?” The crime reporter chuckled.
“Brody says he’s going to bring Damon in. If you get down to police headquarters with a cameraman, you could get footage that’ll scoop the other media again.”
A low whistle sounded in her ears. “That tidbit is worth another favor back at ya.”
“I warn you, I don’t forget things like that.” She laughed.
They ended the call. Now Brody had better come through.
A little while later, Hallie let herself into her apartment and pulled off her shoes near the hallway closet. In socks, she padded into her living room and touched the button to boot up her laptop sitting on the coffee