I won a critique by bestselling
western romance author Caroline Clemmons in the Brenda Novak Diabetic Auction.
She’s going to critique the first 3 chapters of the third book in the Hawkins
Family series – Targeted. I’m busy editing it right now and hope to send it off
tomorrow. I thought you might be interested in an excerpt from that book.
Janna
Kincaid sat straight up in bed, trying to focus her sleep drugged brain.
Usually it took a five alarm fire to even get her to even roll over, let alone
open her eyes.
Had there been a siren? A backfire?
Her
mind tried to register what had disturbed her sub conscious. Glancing at the
clock beside her bed the numbers showed two forty eight.
The
hairs on the back of her neck tingled and moved to attention.
Someone
or something was in the house.
Holding
her breath, she waited for another sound, something that would explain why she
was awake.
Had it been breaking glass that woke
her? Did someone break in through the patio door?
Slithering
her legs across the soft, expensive, cotton sheets, to the side of the bed, she
continued listening as she quietly slid the drawer of her bedside table open.
Her fingers grasped the cold metal of her thirty eight. Her other hand grabbed
her cell phone. Slipping out of bed she glided toward the bedroom door.
She
heard a soft thump. A muffled curse followed.
Whoever
was out there had probably hit the coffee table. The brass corners would cause
some damage to his leg. If you followed the trajectory from the patio door to
the coffee table he could be heading toward her bedroom.
But if he was a burglar, why come to
her bedroom? The TV and the computer were in the den.
Slipping
behind the door Janna heard a soft click. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness
she could see the knob turning. The door was pushed gently back toward her,
allowing a sliver of light to cross her bed.
There
was a muffled crack; then another one.
The
door closed, this time not as quietly.
For
another minute Janna stood motionless, her ear to the wall. Then she punched
911 into her cell.
“There’s
someone in my house. I think they have a gun.” Janna
whispered into the receiver.
At
the operators request she whispered her name and address.
“The
police are on their way. Please stay on the line until they arrive.”
Janna
nodded. Still holding the phone she across the door.
“Ma’am?
Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
Janna whispered as she opened the door, just enough so she could hear if anyone
was still in her house. Clutching the cell phone, Janna pressed her body
against the door frame.
It
was deadly silent.
Whoever
had been there was gone. She was sure of that.
With
her back against the wall she edged her way into the living room.
In
the distance a siren ripped through the silence of the night, tearing a strip
out of the dark, empty streets.
He
hadn’t broken in to steal anything. He hadn’t been there long enough.
Moving
stealthily across the room toward the front door, Janna found it open. A cool
April breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of fir and dogwood. Janna shivered
before taking a deep breath to calm herself.
Obviously
the person wasn’t concerned about someone finding the door open. Whoever had
been there had let themselves out the front door and left it open behind them.
They hadn’t stolen anything. They had entered her house; come straight to her
bedroom, fired a shot, and left.
The
siren screamed louder. Janna could see the flashing red lights racing down her
street. The lights created a rotating ball effect, like the kind they had a
disco dances. Every few seconds her couch and lamps were reflected in an eerie
blood red glow.
Brakes
squealed. Suddenly it was quiet.
The
ballroom effect disappeared. The doors of the police car opened and slammed
shut.
“They’re
here. Thank you.” Janna clicked her cell phone shut. Turning on the lights she
stood in the doorway as two of Seattle’s finest approached her door cautiously,
guns drawn.
“It’s
okay. He’s gone.”
“You
the one who called it in?” One of the uniformed officers did a thorough visual
scan of her person.
Probably
checking for weapons, Janna thought, suddenly conscious that she was wearing
only her yellow, Winnie the Pooh night shirt. She tugged at the hem. Her
usually warm house felt chilly and damp.
“Yeah,
that would be me.”
“Name?”
“Janna
Kincaid, I own the house.”
The
taller, heavier set cop appeared satisfied and holstered his weapon.
“Sergeant
Delaney. What happened?” He lumbered up the steps, towering over Janna’s five
foot seven frame.
She
squinted up at him, “I’m not sure. Someone broke in, probably through the patio
door. I called 911 and waited for you to arrive. I haven’t looked around yet. I
haven’t touched anything but the doorknob from the bedroom.”
“Good.
Well, let’s see what he was after. This is my partner Sergeant Murdoch.”
Delaney nodded to his partner. “You take the outside perimeter.”
Janna
nodded at the shorter, younger man with dark hair and eyes.
He
acknowledged her before moving off into the darkness.
Delaney
followed Janna inside.
“I
think he entered by breaking the glass in the patio door.” Janna moved to the
glass door at the back of the room. Outside she could see the shadow of the
other police officer through the shattered glass, as he squatted to get a
better look of the ground outside the door, partially hidden by her lilac
bushes. The recent rains may have made the ground soft enough to get some
footprints. She could hope.
There
was splintered glass spread in a two foot semi-circle on the plush, cream
colored, wool carpet. Janna jerked to a stop so she didn’t get splinters in her
bare feet.
“You
might want to put something on your feet, ma’am.” Delaney glanced at her feet, then
he pulled out a camera and started snapping pictures.
Janna
nodded, pulling a pair of old runners out from under the couch and sliding them
over her bare feet. She didn’t bother with the laces.
“Then
I think he headed toward my bedroom. I heard a thud. I think he hit the coffee
table.” Janna jerked at the hem of her nightshirt as she indicated the large
oak table in front of her dark brown, leather couch.
Delaney
nodded as he snapped a few more pictures of the solid oak and glass coffee with
the replica of the statue of David in the center. “We can get the lab guys to
check and see if maybe he left any DNA when he hit it. You keep saying he, do
you know who it might have been?”
“I
have no idea. I guess I just use ‘he’ because I don’t think of a woman doing
this.”
A
smile slipped across Delaney’s craggy face. “Oh, they do it all right.”
Janna
moved through her open, bedroom door. “Then he opened this door. I think he
took a couple of shots at the bed and then left. At least it sounded like a gun with a
silencer.”
Flipping
on the light she looked at the queen-sized bed with the mauve, shamrock green and white floral duvet thrown back to
reveal the matching, expensive, mauve cotton sheets and pillow cases.
There
were two holes in one of the mauve covered pillows.
The
enormity of the situation finally hit her in the stomach. A wall of nausea
crashed over her. She stared at the bed, unable to look away.
“Ohmigawd.”
Her chest felt like a hundred pound weight was sitting on it. Janna struggled
to take a breath.
“You
might want to sit down.” Delaney touched her shoulder, motioning her back to
the living room.
Nodding,
Janna moved robot-like to the couch, still in her night shirt. Someone had
tried to kill her.
She
flopped down on the butter soft, brown leather. It felt cool against the back
of her thighs. Pulling her legs up under her she tucked in the hem of her night
shirt.
He
had shot at her.
He
hadn’t broken in to steal anything. He’d broken in to kill her.
If
she hadn’t heard him and hidden behind the door, she would be dead right now.
Why? Why would someone want to kill
her?
