Reading Online Novel

Falling Into Grace(2)



I push through the kitchen in no time, and move on to the adjoining family room. I fold all the blankets and start to launch the toys, that are all over the floor, into the toy box. It is a little game I play: How many in a row can I get in before missing one? I throw a remote-control car, and it hits the wall, leaving a big dent. Shit! I run my hand over the dent to see how deep it is. Then I hear the sound I should have run from, the sound that would change my life forever.





CHAPTER TWO

I walk over toward the door, peeking out the window to see who the hell would be knocking at my door at such an early hour. It’s the police. I think back to my conversation with my neighbor just days before about a break-in a few blocks over.

“How the hell can this happen? We live in a good neighborhood,” I had said to her. The woman was not home, thank heavens, but they stole all her jewelry and a few other novel items. I open the door to be greeted by a calm and handsome man.

“Mrs. Winterfield?” he says, to my dismay.

How the hell does he know my name? Why the hell does he know my name?

Suddenly I see Chase’s best friend Kevin’s car pull into the driveway like a bat out of hell. I don’t think he even stopped the car when he put it into park, as he jumps out of the car like a rocket. My heart suddenly drops. No, no, no. What is going on? I step back into the house.

“Come in,” I say in a whisper, taking another step back.

“There has been an altercation involving your husband, Mrs. Winterfield,” he says gently as if he is talking to a child. I fall to my knees, because I can feel the void in my heart already.

I go numb. The room is suddenly spinning around me. I have never had this feeling before. I feel like my arms and legs have fallen asleep. I stare blankly at the floor and begin to count the floorboards. What the fuck is happening? I guess Kevin is reading my face because he begins to tell me what happened. I can’t do this now, I have to get away from this. I get up and walk away. I begin to run through the house, out the back door, and onto the patio. Kevin follows right behind me.

He grabs my arm and yells, “Stop.” He grabs too hard, and I feel pain shoot down to my wrist and back up again.

“Chase was inspecting a new building this morning that we bought.” He looks down and I can see his tears.

“Is he dead?” I don’t recognize my own voice, and a part of me already knows the answer. He nods. My heart sinks, leaving my insides throbbing. I can’t breathe, and I feel my wounded heart sink deeper. It’s the kind of sadness that immerses your stomach and leaves it all to ache. I’m broken. I plummet down again; it feels like a free fall off the top of the Empire State Building, then it landed right on me, crushing me beneath it’s weight. Kevin gets down to my eye level and continues.

“We were told it had been cleared and condemned yesterday.” He stops and I vaguely remember them on the phone last night talking. Chase—all business, with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his cell. He is sexy as hell, with long legs and broad shoulders. Then I shudder. He was sexy as hell. It starts to hit me that he is no longer here. I can no longer touch him and get a returning touch. I start to shake, and my breathing seizes.

Kevin starts again, choking on his words. “He was doing a fast sweep. You know how he is.”

Yes, I think. He likes to touch and see things before he knocks them down. It hits me again like a wrecking ball: he liked to.

“He went in while we were talking. I heard yelling in the background and then the phone went dead. I tried calling back, but he didn’t answer, which isn’t like him. I was only a few minutes away. I wish I would have called the police sooner.” He stops and I look up. He is crying.

The detective steps in, and we both jump. I have completely forgotten he was here.

“Ma’am, your husband was attacked by a man named Wesley Fisher.”

I know that name. Why do I know that name?

“He is wanted for the murder of two police officers from two nights ago.” That’s why I know the name; it has been all over the news. I remember seeing his mug shot in one of my patients’ rooms. The thought of this makes me shake once more. Feeling nauseated, I pull my knees to my chest for some kind of protection. I can’t hear any more. I can’t do this. I want to yell “Stop!” I want my life back. I want to keep cleaning my house happily and peacefully.

“He was hiding out in the building, and your husband—uh, Mr. Winterfield—must have spooked him.” He looks down at his feet.

Kevin looks up at me. “I was too late. It’s all my fault. I woke up late and was running behind. I should have been there.”