kitchen. I frowned, fairly certain I’d turned off all the kitchen lights. I held position for several seconds, listening for any sign of movement. I was just about to chalk it all up to something shifting in the refrigerator or falling in the pantry when I heard the sound of a chair sliding across the kitchen floor. A couple seconds later, I heard someone opening the refrigerator.
What the hell? What kind of intruder broke in to raid your food supply?
I considered my options. Conventional wisdom said I should call the police, and if Carter were at full capacity, I might have actually considered doing so. But with the options for response being Deputy Breaux or even worse, Nelson, I wasn’t convinced that calling the police would result in anything more effective than crawling in bed and letting him eat me out of house and home would accomplish.
I sighed. Regardless of the current lack of ability of law enforcement, I needed to try harder to stay off the radar, especially as long as Celia was running the show. She’d take any opportunity to make an example of me. I headed back into my bedroom to make the call, but my cell phone wasn’t on my nightstand. Then I recalled seeing it on the kitchen counter as I’d poured my glass of milk…sitting right next to Ally’s purse, which contained her cell phone. Great. The first time I’d actually intended to do the normal-person responsible thing, and the phones were right next to the bad guys.
Right next to the remainder of the chocolate chip cookies.
I gripped my gun, my resolve firm. No way was someone getting away with the last of my cookies, but I couldn’t possibly catch the intruder if I used the stairs. They made too much noise. Before I could change my mind, I made my way over to my bedroom window and lifted it up. I eased over the ledge and onto the porch roof, then hurried to the edge of the porch and jumped off the side, rolling as I hit the ground. Dried leaves and twigs from the shrubs bordering the front of the house dug into my bare feet, but I didn’t give them more than a second’s thought as I set out around the side of the house for the back. I would be able to see inside the kitchen from the window. If I could manage to get up the steps without alerting the intruder to my presence, my plan was to burst in through the back door and take him by surprise.
When I reached the corner of the house, I peered around, looking for any sign of movement in the backyard. Moonlight provided decent illumination from the house all the way to the bayou, but the backyard and the waterfront were clear. Whoever it was hadn’t arrived by boat, or hadn’t docked behind my house. I slipped around the corner and skirted the back of the house behind the shrubs until I reached the kitchen window. I peered over the edge and held in a curse when I saw that the blinds were drawn.
I never closed the blinds.
I dropped back down and considered my options. I could knock on a neighbor’s door and ask to use their phone, but then I’d have to explain how I got out of my house without the intruder hearing me and why I was prancing around my lawn in a T-shirt and underwear, packing a nine-millimeter. The T-shirt was long enough to cover my rear, but just barely, and more than likely, it was illegal to be outside without pants on Thursday nights. I couldn’t believe I’d left the house without putting my shorts back on. This whole domestic living thing had completely ruined me.
I tapped my fingers on my pistol and considered my other limited options. I could jog to Gertie’s, but then I risked being seen jogging in a T-shirt and underwear and packing a nine-millimeter, not to mention, the intruder might leave before I could get to Gertie’s and get the police to my house. And that would still leave me explaining my state of undress and gun-toting to law enforcement and anyone else who happened to see me half streaking down the block. Besides, I
What the hell? What kind of intruder broke in to raid your food supply?
I considered my options. Conventional wisdom said I should call the police, and if Carter were at full capacity, I might have actually considered doing so. But with the options for response being Deputy Breaux or even worse, Nelson, I wasn’t convinced that calling the police would result in anything more effective than crawling in bed and letting him eat me out of house and home would accomplish.
I sighed. Regardless of the current lack of ability of law enforcement, I needed to try harder to stay off the radar, especially as long as Celia was running the show. She’d take any opportunity to make an example of me. I headed back into my bedroom to make the call, but my cell phone wasn’t on my nightstand. Then I recalled seeing it on the kitchen counter as I’d poured my glass of milk…sitting right next to Ally’s purse, which contained her cell phone. Great. The first time I’d actually intended to do the normal-person responsible thing, and the phones were right next to the bad guys.
Right next to the remainder of the chocolate chip cookies.
I gripped my gun, my resolve firm. No way was someone getting away with the last of my cookies, but I couldn’t possibly catch the intruder if I used the stairs. They made too much noise. Before I could change my mind, I made my way over to my bedroom window and lifted it up. I eased over the ledge and onto the porch roof, then hurried to the edge of the porch and jumped off the side, rolling as I hit the ground. Dried leaves and twigs from the shrubs bordering the front of the house dug into my bare feet, but I didn’t give them more than a second’s thought as I set out around the side of the house for the back. I would be able to see inside the kitchen from the window. If I could manage to get up the steps without alerting the intruder to my presence, my plan was to burst in through the back door and take him by surprise.
When I reached the corner of the house, I peered around, looking for any sign of movement in the backyard. Moonlight provided decent illumination from the house all the way to the bayou, but the backyard and the waterfront were clear. Whoever it was hadn’t arrived by boat, or hadn’t docked behind my house. I slipped around the corner and skirted the back of the house behind the shrubs until I reached the kitchen window. I peered over the edge and held in a curse when I saw that the blinds were drawn.
I never closed the blinds.
I dropped back down and considered my options. I could knock on a neighbor’s door and ask to use their phone, but then I’d have to explain how I got out of my house without the intruder hearing me and why I was prancing around my lawn in a T-shirt and underwear, packing a nine-millimeter. The T-shirt was long enough to cover my rear, but just barely, and more than likely, it was illegal to be outside without pants on Thursday nights. I couldn’t believe I’d left the house without putting my shorts back on. This whole domestic living thing had completely ruined me.
I tapped my fingers on my pistol and considered my other limited options. I could jog to Gertie’s, but then I risked being seen jogging in a T-shirt and underwear and packing a nine-millimeter, not to mention, the intruder might leave before I could get to Gertie’s and get the police to my house. And that would still leave me explaining my state of undress and gun-toting to law enforcement and anyone else who happened to see me half streaking down the block. Besides, I
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