Free The Prey by Allison Brennan Page A

they had agreed that whoever saw the girl first had first right of refusal.
    Not this time.
    John dumped the rule then and there. By the look on Michael’s face, he knew it too.
    I’ll make it up to him.
    Besides, they didn’t have time for fun and games while a killer was on the loose. And protecting his family—and now Rowan Smith—was John’s number-one responsibility.
     
CHAPTER 6
     
    She stood outside the picturesque two-story white colonial, heart pounding, a light sheen of perspiration on her back. Her skin was clammy, and she wondered if she was coming down with something.
    The house was familiar, but she’d never been to this part of Nashville before. She glanced at local Agent Tom Krause, a seasoned veteran she’d worked with on another multiple homicide in Tennessee two years before.
    Mature trees, evenly spaced, grew tall on the recently mowed lawn. Trimmed hedges stood sentry, marking the bottom of every closed window, every blood-red shutter. Yellow crime-scene tape slashed the serene landscape, a stark reminder of what awaited her inside.
    Rowan had walked through hundreds of crime scenes. She’d seen the worst that man could do to his fellow man. Gathering her emotions, she pushed them down as far as she could, deep down, behind her soul. But today, she was having a harder time separating herself from the crime scene. Somehow, this murder was different. Familiar.
    She stood in the entry hall of the immaculate home. Clean, comfortable, expensive furnishings, polished wood. There was the general disturbance associated with law enforcement presence, but the house was otherwise neat as a pin. The smell of a lemon-scented cleaner mingled with the coppery scent she knew too well, the metallic taste of blood already in her nostrils, her mouth. She closed her eyes, gathering her strength.
    Why was it so hard to proceed?
    “Agent Smith, you okay?”
    Tom’s voice cut through her hesitation. She snapped her eyes opened and nodded. “Of course, just thinking. Who were the victims?”
    Tom glanced at his notepad. “Karl and Marlena Franklin and their children. Suspected murder-suicide, but the techs haven’t been through the scene except to photograph it.”
    She nodded and continued to survey the surroundings. The bottom of the staircase landed in the foyer, curving elegantly as it approached the second floor. Displayed on the wall were pictures of a growing family, arranged step-by-step, year-by-year. The mother and father, dark-haired and blue-eyed, together. Together with an infant. Then an infant and a toddler. A toddler and a kindergartner. Two kids and a baby. Two kids and a toddler and a baby. Dark hair, blue eyes, attractive family.
    Three boys and a baby girl.
    At the top of the stairs was the last portrait this family would ever take together. Three boys, the oldest about twelve. A little girl, three, with dark pigtails and red ribbons in the hair.
    Pigtails and ribbons.
    Run!
Her mind screamed, but she was compelled to move forward. She heard Tom talking, but didn’t hear his words
.
    Run!
    Her feet were rooted in the too-familiar house.
    The blood in the first room was confined to the bed. Oldest boy, Packers football fan, baseball awards on his shelves and walls. Second room, bunk beds, more blood. She smelled it, tasted it, breathed it into her lungs and gagged.
    “Rowan.”
    The voice was far away, and she put one foot in front of the other, leaving Tom behind.
    “Rowan!”
    She turned into the last door, knowing before she opened it what she would see.
    The baby girl’s room decorated in pink and white frills, full of teddy bears and dolls. A picnic had been laid out on the floor, complete with a Babar the Elephant tea set and guests. A teddy bear, a giraffe, and Babar preparing to partake in the meal. Left from yesterday’s game.
    An empty seat where the little girl would have sat.
    Dani.
    The little girl could have been sleeping. Would have been sleeping until her life was stolen