Profile of Retribution: FBI Profiler Romantic Suspense (Profile Series #3) by Alexa Grace Page A

that clueless? People fucking despise us. They blame us for what Evan and Devan did. We are the most hated people in Shawnee County. Hell, the most detested in the state of Indiana, and thanks to Crime Scene Network, the entire world. Casey Anthony’s parents can’t compete with us.”
    The front window exploded as a large object hurtled into the room, sending shattered glass airborne into their hair and clothing. Bradley jumped to his feet and Tisha scrambled back until her shoulder hit the edge of the fireplace mantel. Heart pounding painfully in his chest, Bradley pulled his wife into his arms and did a quick examination. There were tiny, bloody cuts all over her face, neck and arms. Her eyes reflecting pure terror, she clung to him.
    He led her to a chair, handed her his cell phone, and insisted she sit down. “Stay here and call 9-1-1. I’m getting my gun. He may still be out there.”
    “No! You could get hurt. Don’t go, Bradley. Please.”
    Ignoring his wife’s pleas, he raced to his gun case, unlocked it, retrieved his Glock and returned to the front door. Yanking it open, he stepped onto the porch, scanned the yard and cursed himself for not getting a flashlight. Seeing nothing, he headed back inside.
    In the living room, his heart froze when he saw Tisha, standing near the window, trembling as she held a rock dripping with what he initially thought was red paint. Moving closer, he saw the horror in her eyes as she stared down at it.
    “Honey, give it to me.”
    Slowly she handed it to him, then wiped compulsively at her clothing as if the red substance were acid, burning her skin.
    The first thing he noticed as he held the rock was a coppery smell he’d know anywhere. It wasn’t coated with red paint, it was covered in blood, sticky and so slippery, he dropped it onto the carpet.

Chapter Fourteen

    The Rock

    It wasn’t the type of call a sergeant normally took, but when Cameron heard the dispatcher say Bradley Lucas’ name, he shot out of the building and gunned his sheriff’s office-issued SUV, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Reaching the Lucas place, he whipped into the long driveway, followed close behind by a squad car. Deputy Gail Sawyer had radioed that she was in the area.
    As Cameron stood on the front porch, pounding on the door, he noticed a jagged gash in the front window glass. He slipped a pair of paper shoe covers on his feet.
    Running to catch up with him, Gail said, “Check out that window.”
    “Noticed.”
    Covering her own shoes, she asked, “Want me to call in for a crime scene tech?”
    “Not yet. Let’s talk to the Lucas couple first.”
    Bradley, holding a white hand towel and a brown plastic bottle, opened the door and invited them inside. They followed him into the living room where Tisha sat near the fireplace. Bradley sat down near her and began dabbing her cuts with hydrogen peroxide. Tisha was pale and looked shaken to her core.
    Cameron and Gail headed to the broken window and noticed a large rock on the carpet, coated with what looked like blood. Cameron looked back at Bradley. “Did you touch this?”
    “I’m afraid we both did.”
    “Where was it before you touched it? Where did it land when it came through the window?”
    Tisha spoke up. “It was on my mother’s antique table there. The rock shattered the crystal vase she gave me before she died.”
    “Did you move the table?”
    Shaking her head, she said, “No. The table was directly in front of the window as it is now.”
    “I’ll call in a crime scene tech and then I’ll check out the yard,” Gail said over her shoulder as she left the room.
    Bradley pointed to the sofa, indicating him to sit down. “I’m surprised to see you here, Sergeant.”
    Shrugging his shoulders, Cameron remained standing. “I was in the neighborhood when I heard the call.” He turned back to look at the table again, wondering how far from the window someone would have to stand outside for the rock to reach the