To Claim Her by Renee Burke

She was the tough one, the one who kept a level head, because no one else around her seemed to. 
    She peered around the curtain covering her bedroom window toward the street. There was no police car on the street to give her courage, but a phone sat beside her bed if she needed them.  Officer Landry promised to respond quickly if she called.
    The street light outside her window shone into the darkness.  She gazed at the edge of the shadows and focused more closely on movement there.  She leaned her face closer to the glass, certain she’d seen something shift from the light into the darkness surrounding the woods at the edge of her property. 
    The wind blew again and a line snapped from the power pole, slapping onto the street with a shower of sparks.  The thunder crackled and rolled as the lights around her blacked out.   
    She was in the dark for the second time in one evening.  This was getting to be a habit.
    She cursed herself for not lighting a single candle or grabbing the flashlight from under her sink.  She would even settle for the frog flashlight with the plastic eyelids from her car.
    She blew out a breath and dropped the curtain back into place.  She carefully felt her way to the nightstand and found the phone.  She kept an old rotary contraption for just this situation.  No battery or power necessary.  Louisiana had some amazing storms and she never wanted to miss a call from her sister, so she put up with the coiled cord constantly tangling.  At least it never went off unless the phone lines were down. 
    She lifted the phone from the cradle and held it to her ear. 
    Nothing.  It was dead. 
    She laid the receiver back in its cradle and moved into the hallway and onto the stairs.  She slid her hand down the handrail, carefully moving down until she stood on the landing.  The thunder rolled and the lightning struck, illuminating her path for a brief moment.  The storm was moving into Caddo Parish.  She quickly made her way into the living room, running her hand along the back of the couch and to the door frame separating the two rooms. 
    She stooped down to find the flashlight in the cabinet under the sink.  Her fingers lit on an empty vase and several containers of cleaner before finally landing on the cylinder she hunted for.  She flipped the switch, and a small beam of light shined onto the floor. 
    She blew out a breath and a relieved laugh.  Better.  
    She searched for her purse.  Her cell phone was there, and she needed to report the downed power line.  She also wanted the cell phone handy in case she needed the police. 
    She rummaged through her purse and found her phone.   The number was there in her contact list, and she went through a series of prompts and clicks to tell the company that the power was out on her street.  The storm had hit hard and three thousand other households were also without power, she was told before hanging up.  At least that meant they would be working on the problem. 
    The matches were in the first drawer of the desk and assorted candles were scattered throughout the house.  She moved carefully, lighting several and placing them on the table in the living room before dragging an afghan toward the corner and tucking herself into a comfortable chair. 
    The storm raged outside, rain joining the high winds and lightning. 
    “One Mississippi.  Two Mississippi.”
    The bolts of lightning struck right on top of her it seemed.  She had used the same technique to soothe her sister through storms when their mom had still been alive.  Drunk, depressed, desolate, and usually locked in her bedroom having as little to do with her daughters as possible. After she’d died, there household had become a little more predictable.  She would never be the simpering mother she had been unlucky enough to have. 
    She knew Mark thought her less brave than full of bravado and maybe he was right over the last few days.  But whatever it took to get back to