Hot Water (Tess Skye Book 4) by D.N. Erikson

Author:D.N. Erikson [Erikson, D.N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-14T23:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

I did the only thing I could in this situation. Clutched the file to my chest and rolled under the bed. Then I lay as still as possible, listening.

A dog’s nails click-clacked across the floorboards. Blood pulsed through my neck as I held my breath.

“Good boy, Storm.” A woman’s voice floated up from the floor below. Her hand thudded against the lab’s thick flank as she gave him a hearty pat.

A leash was unclipped, and the dog scrambled across the floor, in a hurry to get somewhere.

I stiffened, expecting him to race up the stairs and immediately reveal my presence.

This was how it was all gonna end.

I was gonna be found hiding beneath a bed, breaking into the police captain’s residence to have a conversation with his yellow lab.

Go straight to the asylum, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

Instead of being discovered, though, the footsteps went the other way, changing tenor as he hit the tile in the kitchen.

Then I heard the ubiquitous sound of a large dog taking big, slobbery drinks after a long walk in the summer heat.

I used the noise as cover to take a few breaths. My heart didn’t slow down, though.

Who was this woman? There weren’t any pictures in Victor’s condo. From what I could tell, it was almost like no one lived here at all. Like he’d just moved in and stocked the demo furniture with police case files and then called it a day.

All very strange.

Storm stopped drinking. The woman shook a box of biscuits and the dog sprang across the floor.

“Who’s a good boy?”

A happy whine.

“You’re a good boy!”

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

The satisfying sound of a dog eating a biscuit greeted my ears.

The woman patted him again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stormy.”

He let out a hearty groan as the door swung open and shut.

Then his claws scraped across the floor. The footsteps disappeared. A chain jingled.

Finally, there was a long sigh as he lay down.

My breaths were shallow.

I listened in my head, trying to hear his voice.

“Storm?” The word was barely audible.

No response.

I eased my way out from beneath the bed, sound muffled by the carpet.

I crawled on my belly to the edge of the stairs and peered through the space beneath the railing.

Storm had his feet up, already conked out on the couch.

Now I had a decision to make.

Yes, I’d come here to talk with the dog.

But things were different now that I was twenty feet from him. Staring at this sixty-pound dog who I’d met all of once, it all seemed like a poorly thought out plan.

Best case scenario, maybe this ended with me being bitten.

Worst case scenario? Some version of being hauled off to a padded room.

I clasped the file to my chest. Maybe this was enough.

I could snap a photo of the pages and try to figure out how Mom was involved in this mess. How she everything had “begun” with her.

That would be the safest approach.

So I eased off the carpet to my knees and gingerly took out my phone, keeping an eye on the sleeping lab.

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