Dead To Life

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Out in the driveway, a car door slammed suddenly. The hair on the nape of her neck stood up. Sara eased down the stairs, bypassing the second floor, and quietly waited at the landing above the next staircase. It would lead down into the dining room just off the kitchen.

Someone opened the screen door off the back porch and fumbled with the door lock. Sara's heart raced. She didn't need to deal with yet another prowler. Did she have time to run to her bedroom and get her g*n? Her bedroom was right over the kitchen. Someone breaking into the porch then entering the kitchen might hear her above them.

The screen door flapped shut as the porch door opened. She heard nothing more. Who had made entry? Tripp Unwin, the serial killer who left bodies throughout Sacramento and the Delta, including her property, was the only person she knew who could pick a lock that easily. Surely, he couldn't be out of prison… or escaped? Having admitted to over thirty murders, he should have received the sentence of lethal injection, but California had long ago stopped the death penalty.

She touched the cell phone hanging on her waistband. She would go back into the attic and bolt the door and call 911. She heard only silence. Just as she turned to climb back up into the attic, the door between the porch and kitchen opened.

“Sara! Sara! Where are you?”

She expelled a forceful breath and nearly collapsed from relief. He must have paused on the back porch to check the alarm system in case he needed to disarm it before it sounded. She had left the alarm system off this morning since the contractor needed to come in and out. She quickly descended the staircase and met him at the bottom.

“Hux! You told me you'd be here tomorrow.”

“Got away early.” His smile beamed. His blue-topaz eyes held their constant sparkle. How could he look so fresh after the flight from his home in Oregon? His dark hair was mussed. He preferred fresh air, regardless of the heat, and always drove with the windows down.

Huxley could wear everyday clothes and still look like a model. His checkered teal and orange flannel shirt over a teal T-shirt fit in with the local faded vibe. So did his light brown Urban Shepherd boots and denim jeans rolled at the ankles. Then how he could re-invent himself with a suit and tie was amazing. A man for all seasons. Just a tall, broad-shouldered, better than average looking guy, with eyes that made her melt.

She finally calmed. “You're not driving your truck.” He looked at her curiously and waited for her explanation. “I always recognize the sound of your pickup, the door slam, too, but something's different.”

He dropped a 12x12x8 inch sealed cardboard box with airlines carry-on tags onto the little breakfast table that stood in the middle of the kitchen. He shed the flannel shirt and hung it on the back of a chair, then smiled and nodded as if pleased she noticed. Noticing such small details was critical in the cold case searches that they investigated.

“Had a blow out. My cell is dead. Left my truck in Elk Grove and got a loaner.” He thumbed toward the outside.

“Elk Grove? That's a short drive up the road. You could have borrowed a phone. I'd have picked you up.”

He feigned disappointment at the scolding as they stood beside the table. “Sorry… wanted to surprise you.”

“Ha! You did!”

They stood smiling at each other. Then they rushed into a tight embrace. Sara raised up on tiptoes as the six-foot Huxley took her into his strong arms. He was muscular and Sara always felt safe when he wrapped her in his arms. They kissed lovingly.

“Missed you. Couldn't get here fast enough.” He breathed deeply.

Sara always put on a spritz of her favorite Balahe perfume every morning, no matter what. Huxley reveled in the scent of it. Somehow a tantalizing scent seemed to seal their wants during hugs.

The tire problem was unexpected, but for Huxley to allow his cell phone power to run down was unheard of. Usually, he was astute about everything. Yet, recent developments, or lack thereof, in the search for his MIA brother's remains was pulling his thoughts in too many directions.

Sara pointed at the box. “The letters… from your mom?”

“Many letters.” He sighed and sank into a chair. “And some photos.”

“You open. I'll make coffee.”

“Not on your life.” He took his hands away from the box. “Make the coffee. We'll open together.”

She pulled a coffee can out of the cabinet. Huxley was tough about a lot of things, but the thought of reading old letters from his long-missing brother left him feeling helpless. He needed her at his side. She loved him. She would be there for him, wherever this current search took them, no matter what they might find.

The coffee made and hot mugs sitting on the table, Sara produced a knife to open the package. Huxley slit the strapping tape on the box and laid the knife aside. He didn't open the flaps right away. He sat with his hands clasped flat together and pressed them against his lips. Information in this box would provide some of the most defining clues leading to verifying the key found in the Vietnam jungle. He believed the key belonged to his brother, Rocky.

Sara had not accompanied him and the veterans on their most recent trek through the jungle. Huxley's purpose for that trip was to receive the key. Then he had been taken to a suspected remains area the team had not known about till that time.

The key and letters were much discussed by Huxley and his family, as Huxley previously related to Sara. Rocky's fiancée, Emma Ellis, had given him the key to the apartment she shared with her sister, Evelyn. In case he should return to San Francisco unexpectedly, he would have a place to stay.