Free My Tye by Kristin Daniels

kept his mouth shut and his eyes and ears open. He pulled into her driveway and headed for the detached garage behind the small Cape Cod. He parked between it and the house, killed the truck’s engine and waited for her to make the first move. When she didn’t, he said, “Want me to go in with you?” Not that he’d ever let her go in there on her own to begin with, but she didn’t need to know that either.
    “Um, sure.” Still, she just sat there.
    Taking charge, he got out and surveyed her backyard, her next door neighbor’s yard and a good portion of the side of the house as he came around the rear of the truck. Nothing off, that he could see anyway.
    “C’mon,” he said, opening her door.
    He helped her out, keeping a steadying hand on her elbow and an arm around her waist. She felt so small under his hands, so fragile. After a few steps, though, she stopped dead in her tracks.
    “Wait. I, um… I don’t have the key.”
    Despite the waver in her voice, he nearly forced her to keep moving. At least until he caught sight of her back door. “Something tells me you’re not going to need it.”
    The small, square window pane closest to the handle on the door had been smashed in. Tiny shards of glass settled over the concrete at the base of the door. A few of the pieces lay as far away as a foot, as if they’d been strewn around by someone walking over them.
    Laine followed his stare and stiffened in his grip. With his arm still around her waist, he let go of her elbow to reach for his sidearm. He kept the gun holstered while maintaining a death-grip on the butt. “I’m going to guess your door wasn’t like this when you left home last?”
    “When I…” she started. “No,” she said then, quiet yet resolute, which gave him a momentary glimpse of the strong woman he’d always known her to be.
    “You should wait out here while I—”
    “No, I’ll go,” she said, cutting him off with a jerky step out of his reach.
    She started toward the door, but he was faster. No way in hell was she going near that house, not if he had anything to say about it. He grabbed her hand and yanked her to a stop before she reached the step.
    “You can’t go in there, Laine.”
    She ripped the sunglasses from her face. Despite cringing at the sunlight, she was still able to throw him a look that could only be described as defiant. Clearly she wasn’t used to anyone telling her she couldn’t do whatever it was she wanted.
    “Like hell I can’t,” she said. Her voice sounded more gravelly with every word. “This is my house, Sheriff. Mine . Don’t tell me—”
    “It’s a crime scene. I can’t let you—”
    “ Let me?”
    He bit back an edgy growl. “There could be evidence in there. Or worse, someone could still be inside. That’s police procedure 101, first day of school stuff, Laine. You know that.”
    She paused only a moment. “I know. Damn it,” she whispered, lowering her head and cradling her forehead in one hand. “My purse. My ID was in it. There’s a good chance—”
    She didn’t have to say another word.
    “Get back in the truck and lock the doors. Let me go in and take a look around. I can grab a few of your things while I’m in there. We’ll head straight for the ranch the second I’m done.”
    The defiance she’d shown him mere moments ago was nowhere to be found now. He opened the driver’s side, settled her back inside and tapped the truck’s horn. “Pound on this if you need me. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
    He locked her in and pulled out the kit he stored in his truck bed box for situations such as these with one hand as he dug his phone out of his pocket with the other. He yanked out a pair of latex gloves and shoved them in his back pocket—just in case—and hit the speed dial for the station at the same time.
    “Julie, it’s Tye. Notify whoever is on duty and tell them to haul ass to 717 Maple, stat. We’ve got a break-in.”
    He waited for her confirmation before