Page 12 of Guarding Truth

Her scattered notes started to make sense as her mind translated the information to letter and number patterns. Words coalesced into phrases.

The heat is on. He’s getting too suspicious.

We need to send a message.

After tonight, we have a new target.

Ivy shivered, and not from the cold air coming from the AC vent. Who were these people? She looked away from the screen, blinking to regain some moisture in her eyes. What were they targeting? After the phrasenew targetwas a string of numbers, letters, and degrees.

She opened the search app on her uncle’s phone and typed the information into the search engine. Could it be that easy? The results popped up in a fraction of a second.

Ivy clicked on the link, and a map of Savannah pulled up. Bingo. GPS coordinates.

Wait. Was this the supposed target? What kind of game was her uncle playing with her? Was she supposed to go to this location? She zoomed in, and every muscle in her body tightened.

The map had pulled up her uncle’s office building. Strange. Maybe he had something hidden for her at work. But this made no sense.

A creak disrupted her concentration. Hadn’t her uncle gone to bed?

Another floorboard groaned. The apartment had been built a hundred years ago, so it wasn’t a surprise the place rattled. But if it wasn’t Uncle Caleb…

She cracked the door open two centimeters and peered out into the living room. Her uncle’s room was on the other side of the apartment, and his door was closed. She listened.

A shadow crossed in front of her, and Ivy covered her mouth with her hand. Someone was in the apartment, and she didn’t have a way to call or text Uncle Caleb. She had his phone.

So she used the only thing at her disposal and let out a blood-curdling scream.

THREE

TUESDAY, 12:10 A.M.

The scream launched Caleb into full soldier mode. Before his eyes had opened, he had his gun in his hand and had reached for the bedroom doorknob.

Every nerve ending in his body pulsed with energy while his mind focused on one solitary mission.

Rescue Ivy.

He cracked the door a fraction and didn’t see anything in the living room. Waiting a heartbeat, he proceeded across the apartment to Ivy’s room. All of his senses operated in red-alert mode.

The hairs on his arm stood up and Caleb froze.

Someone was in the apartment.

A crash rang out from the kitchen, and a blur of black rushed him. He pointed his gun, but something slammed into his head. Dazed, he stumbled backwards.

“Uncle Caleb! Watch out!”

He grabbed the back of the couch for support with one hand, gun still pointing in the direction of the dining room. A man clad in all black grabbed a laptop from the table and flung it at Caleb, and he ducked. The device flew over his head and hit the wall. Before he could regroup and re-aim his gun, the front door was flung open and heavy footsteps pounded down the hall.

Ivy was by his side before he could blink, her arms wrapping around his waist. Her tears wet his shirt. Caleb touched his forehead and saw blood trickle between his fingers.

“I’ll get you a towel to press against your head.” Ivy sniffed and headed to the kitchen. He followed, not wanting her out of his sight for a second. She grabbed some paper towels from the counter and handed him a wad. He pressed them to his forehead, and the bleeding slowed.

“I called 911,” Ivy said. She handed him his phone from her pocket. He’d have to talk to her later about why she had it.

“Your scream scared the intruder away. Good thinking.” Caleb sat at the dining room table, careful not to touch anything. Maybe the police could dust for prints. Except he recalled the intruder had been wearing gloves, so prints wouldn’t be likely.

A knock at the half-open door stopped his heart. “Caleb? It’s Officer Matt Williams from downstairs.”