Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Grissom cocked his head, watching for Tuesday through the stairway that had taken her down to the garage. The one she’d walked through just a few moments earlier with trash slung over her shoulder like she was one of Santa’s helpers. Tiny hairs prickled up the back of his neck. Something was wrong. He could feel it. He could taste it. She’d only been gone minutes, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching over his shoulder. That time was not on his side.

Muscle training ordered him to get up off his ass and run after Tuesday. His spine stiffened to do just that, but taking off like an idiot, when she might return any second…

When this was more likely just another sneaky panic attack…

When he knew damned well Tuesday was capable of taking care of herself…

Would frighten his boys. Probably unnecessarily. She’d faced down and ended the psycho Maeve Astor. She’d been stuck in many of the most dangerous parts of the globe, all for the sake of some almighty important photographs, and she’d done well. She was a loner used to taking care of herself. She didn’t need him to fight her battles. She was just like him. Never surrender was their motto. Maybe unspoken, but something they’d recognized in each other.

But his boys? This house was their sanctuary. They had to believe it was safe, no matter what happened to Tuesday. If she were in trouble.

So many ifs.

Pushing to his feet, Grissom slapped a hand over his rear pocket, making sure he had his cell phone. There was no way he could just sit and do nothing, but he needed to handle his exit gently. “Boys, that bag might’ve been too heavy for Tuesday. Stay here by the tree until I get back. Tanner, maybe you could share your pastels and help Luke make another surprise for her, okay?”

“Sure, Dad,” Tanner answered, his nose in his pastels, “but I think he’ll like my new colored pencils better. They’re already sharp and not so messy. Luke, wanna make a couple new pictures for Miss Tuesday?”

“Yeah, sure!” Luke chirped like a noisy little magpie, already scooting over to where Tanner sat on his butt, readily giving up on his new Hot Wheels racetrack to draw a ‘pitcher’ for the lady who’d snagged his heart, too.

That went better than Grissom expected. Nonetheless, he took time to tousle both his sons’ heads before he all but ran for the garage, hurriedly sliding in his stocking feet down the carpeted steps and hurtling across the cold concrete floor to the side exit. Frightened by the adrenaline dump burning through his system, he prayed his anxiety and this panic attack were nothing more than his overactive imagination. It stood to reason. Things had been going smoothly. What could go wrong?

But in case his gut was right, he reminded the Man Upstairs, “I can’t lose her, and You know it.”

Clearing the top of the riding mower parked at the side exit, like one of the Dukes of Hazzard boys, Grissom verified the double-wide garage doors hadn’t been activated. Of course not. He would’ve heard them from the loft.

But something was definitely wrong. Tuesday wouldn’t have dawdled. She would’ve returned quickly, simply because she wanted to spend Christmas with him and his boys. She said she’d be right back. She told him not to eat breakfast without her.

Pulling his pistol from the ankle holster hidden under his pant leg, he was thankful for every redundant session of military training he’d ever endured. He stomped into his work boots, then, pistol first, he cleared the exit and scanned the immediate area, the extra-large driveway and parking pad.

Just snow, damn it. It must’ve barely started falling, as fine a dusting as covered everything.

No sign of Tuesday. The bag of trash lay beside the trash bin, and—

Shit! A small pool of bright red blood. Boot tracks and a long bloody trail from the parking pad, through the snow to—where? Someone had taken Tuesday. Hurt her. Dragged her away!

Pissed out of his mind, Grissom ran for his mini-forest, following the smooth, blood splotched trail, dodging pine branches, his eyes on the ground. Who’d do this? Why Tuesday? Who’d dare? On Christmas!

Two women sprang to mind. It couldn’t be them. One was dead. The other lived on the opposite side of the country. So who the fuck assaulted and kidnapped Tuesday?