No Safe House by Linwood Barclay Read Free Book Online Page A

drawer, it stuck, and he bumped himself with his hand as it broke free.
    Something heavy hit the marble floor.
    “What was that?” Grace asked.
    “I just dropped something.”
    “What the—is that a
gun
?”
    “No, it’s a tuna fish sandwich. The hell you think it is?”
    “You keep a fucking gun in your car?”
    “It’s not my car, and it’s not my gun. It’s my dad’s. Hold it for me while I do this.”
    “I’m not holding—”
    “Just fucking do it!” Stuart said, shoving the gun at her. “You’re starting to be a total pain in the ass—you know that?”
    “What are you gonna do? Shoot somebody?”
    “No, but if somebody tries to mess with us, they’ll think twice when they see this.”
    She still resisted as he pushed the gun on her, but she could tell he was getting angry. Would he hurt her if she didn’t hold it? Punch her in the face? How would she explain that when she got home? A bloody nose, a black eye?
    “Okay,” Grace said.
    The gun was heavy and warm and foreign in her hand. She couldn’t remember ever holding one before. It felt as if it weighed fifty pounds, pulling her arm toward the floor.
    “Just don’t put your finger on the trigger,” he said. “You have to know what you’re doing before you start shootin’ one of those.”
    “Like you do,” she said. “Like you’re some sort of expert.”
    “Don’t turn all bitchy on me, okay? Shit, no keys in this drawer, either.” He opened the third one and shook his head. “Damn, where do they keep those friggin’ Porsche keys? It just makes sense for them to be—”
    “Did you hear that?” Grace asked.
    Stuart froze. “Hear what?”
    “Shut up,” she said. “Listen.”
    The two of them held their breath for a good ten seconds.
    “I don’t hear anything,” he whispered. “What did you hear?”
    “I thought I heard somebody moving around. Like a floor creaking or something.” Without thinking about it, she tightened her grip on the gun, but kept it pointed at the floor.
    “You’re just imagin—”
    He stopped. He’d heard something, too.
    “Shit,” he said, looking toward the kitchen.
    Grace moved toward the front door. On the wall, just next to it, the security keypad, a small green light glowing.
    Green? Doesn’t that mean—?
    “No!” Stuart hissed. “Open that and the alarm’ll go off!”
    “But the light is—”
    “The noise sounded like it was in here,” he said quietly, moving on the balls of his feet toward the kitchen.
    “No!” she whispered after him. “Let’s go.” She was thinking, even if they went out the front door, and the alarm was set to go off, and it did, they could still get to his car before the police or the security company showed up.
    “It’s probably nothing. I’m not runnin’ out of here for no good reason. We’re gonna find those keys.”
    He held his phone at arm’s length, casting light on the floor head of him.
    “
Please
,” Grace said.
    “Stay close to me,” he said, inching forward, reaching out an encouraging hand to her.
    “I’m scared.”
    He grinned. “You’re the one with the gun, Grace. What’s there to be worried about?”

SEVEN
TERRY
    ONE phone message and a text. No response to either.
    I struggled to remember the name of the girl Grace said she was going to the movies with. Sarah? Sandra? I was pretty sure it was Sandra Miller. Sandra’s mother was going to be dropping Grace home on the way back from the theater. But I had no number for Sandra, or her mother, and how many Millers would there be listed in Milford? I didn’t even have to look. These days, now that every kid on the planet had a cell phone, we were letting down our guard when it came to getting info on how to reach their friends.
    Cynthia would’ve known. She’d have been able to tell me who Sandra Miller was, where she lived, her favorite pop star, how long she and Grace had been friends. She’d have probably talked to Sandra’s mother at some point, too, and had