Whisper of Memory (Whispering Woods Book 2) by Brinda Berry

it again.”
    “Who’s Bleeker?” Tiny asked.
    “Austin will have to fill you in. Hey, and Austin?” Pete said.
    “Yeah.” Austin turned up the volume on his audio.
    “He’s now taking local test subjects. Check the missing persons reports from the surrounding states. Can you do me a favor?”
    “Sure,” Austin said. “Whatever you need.”
    “I’m trying to protect Mia, but I’ve got a lot going on.”
    “Protect her from whom? Bleeker?”
    “Who else would I be talking about?”
    “Her new boyfriend Regulus.”
    “Regulus?”
    “IIA dude. He and Arizona hang around your house all the time now. She’s actually joined up with them.”
    There was a lengthy silence.
    “You still there?” Austin asked.
    “Processing that.” Pete hesitated before continuing. “Had no idea. It’s worse than I thought.”
    “Tell me about it.” Austin grimaced.
    “I’ll be contacting you again. I don’t want to draw attention to her from the people I work for. Can I trust you to watch out for her? You and Tiny?”
    “No need to ask,” Austin said.
    The third character disappeared, and a message appeared in its place. Protector has logged out.

     
     
     
     

Chapter 5

Intruder
    T he glow of the night-light comforted me while I stared up at the popcorn finish on my bedroom ceiling. When I was younger, I would call Pete’s name and he’d answer through the thin wall that separated our rooms. When I was older, I was calmed by the music that Pete played at night, a playlist of punk rock music that thrashed and wailed. It easily put me to sleep.
    These days, the house was always quiet as a coffin. Sometimes, I could hear the television on in the den downstairs and, although I knew I should go down and turn it off, it helped me to sleep. Dad always fell asleep with the television blaring while he was at home on the weekends since he had started taking more government contracts. I liked it better when he’d worked freelance from our house.
    Tonight, with Dad gone, the house creaked and talked to me in the way houses do in the woods. Wind circled the trees, and branches pecked against the tin roof. I closed my eyes and saw a rainbow of bright, beautiful colors dancing across the room in time with nature’s beat. I loved that roof. When it rained, the musical cacophony relaxed my racing mind.
    A scraping sound like a metal bar skidding across my eardrum drew my attention to the dark window. The blinds were drawn, so I couldn’t see if a nearby tree branch caused the noise. I sat up in bed and bent my knees to my chin. Biscuit stirred at the foot of my bed, then lunged at the window while barking ferociously.
    Shards of glass fell onto my desk, and I screamed.
    The miniblinds thrust forward in a warped “V” when something—someone—tried to break into my fragile security. I jumped out of bed, haphazardly grabbing for Biscuit. Although only a twelve-pound cairn terrier, my dog had Rottweiler attitude. He snarled and squirmed in my arms, trying to escape.
    I stopped screaming and ran, still clinging to Biscuit. Swinging wide around the doorframe, I half tumbled down the wooden stairs. I would have traveled faster if not for the bundle of dog to balance. I could hear noise behind me and shrieked involuntarily at the thought of the intruder chasing me. The pounding of my heart matched the pounding of feet upstairs.
    The thumps weren’t coming any closer. I stood poised with my hand on the doorknob. My knees wobbled. Biscuit wiggled, desperate for release. Holding my breath in dread—would I see someone at the top of the stairs?—I listened to a ruckus coming from my room. Something made a shattering sound as it crashed to the floor.
    I looked around for a weapon.
    Running to the car would be useless since my keys sat on the dresser in my bedroom in my heart-shaped candy dish. I edged to the kitchen in the dark while still grappling with Biscuit. I knew that canisters lined the tiled length of the countertop along