Free Bitter Sweets by G. A. McKevett

I’m just anxious, that’s all.”
    â€œPerfectly understandable. I won’t take long. Promise.”
    But when Savannah rang the doorbell, no one answered. After buzzing a couple times, she knocked loudly.
    Still no response.
    She glanced at her watch. It was seven-forty. Maybe Lisa was still in bed and a sound sleeper. Perhaps if she tried the back door.
    But she had no better luck there. After pounding until her knuckles tingled, she was about to give up and accept the fact that no one was at home, when she noticed something that sent a chill through her. Deep, jagged gouges in the wooden doorframe, just beside the lock.
    â€œNo,” she whispered. “No, don’t let it be. . . .”
    Even as she tried to deny what she feared, Savannah pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and used it to turn the knob. The door swung open easily.
    Lisa Mallock would never have slept with the door unlocked. With the threat of her ex-husband hanging over her, Lisa wouldn’t even have been awake in her house with the door unlocked.
    â€œLisa?” Savannah stuck her head inside the kitchen and looked around. The bills were still spread across the table. The remaining M&M cookies on the plate had been covered with plastic wrap. “Lisa, Christy?”
    Instinctively, Savannah’s hand went to the Beretta that she carried in a shoulder holster beneath her jacket. Not wanting to scare Lisa or her young daughter, she didn’t draw the weapon, but she was ready if necessary.
    â€œIt’s me, Savannah Reid. Anybody home?” she called. The house had a heavy, uneasy stillness about it that made the back of her neck tingle.
    Carefully, she walked through the kitchen and into the living room. With the shades and curtains drawn, the room was fairly dark, and she could only discern basic shapes: the sofa, a bean bag chair, the television on a TV tray in the corner.
    As she crept deeper into the room, a strange, irritating sound caught her attention. A high-pitched beeping, like a pager or . . . .
    It was the telephone receiver, lying on the floor beside the end table. As a matter of habit, she reached for it, to return it to its cradle, but caught herself. Although she was hoping against hope this wasn’t a crime scene, she knew better than disturb anything.
    â€œLisa?” she called again, knowing it was pointless. No one slept that soundly. If Lisa Mallock were here and able to speak, she would have done so already.
    Slipping the Beretta from its holster, Savannah pointed the barrel at the ceiling and crept down the short hallway. One glance into the bathroom told her that it was empty and nothing seemed amiss.
    She hurried on to the first bedroom. Inside she saw the twin bed with its Little Mermaid spread, spilling onto the floor. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a small dresser. The drawers were gaping open and appeared to be empty.
    Pink tights and a spangled crown lay crumpled on the floor. No fairy princess would have left such a prize like that. Not willingly. “Oh . . . . Christy,” Savannah whispered to the silent room.
    Across the hall, Lisa’s bed was equally disheveled, the spread lying in a heap on the ancient, gold shag carpeting.
    The top sheet was gone—another fact which Savannah noted with alarm. Lisa Mallock had been a nurse. It was probably just a silly stereotype, hospital corners and all that, but Savannah couldn’t imagine a nurse sleeping without a top and bottom sheet.
    The lower, fitted sheet that remained had been pulled loose and the right side was ripped. At the foot of the bed lay a pillow with a crimson darkness staining the linen. Savannah didn’t need to turn on the light to see what it was. She could smell the distinctive, coppery odor of blood.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?”
    She whirled around, gun in hand, to find Brian O’Donnell staring at her with a stricken face. He looked past her to the bed, and she