“It’s not a big deal, and seriously, if these people buy this house, it will be worth it.” I walk up to the front door with her to let us both inside.
“Since you’re here, do you have anything I need to show them?”
“There are a few things.” I walk to the kitchen and the sliding doors that are off the breakfast nook. “The owners just recently put in the fireplace out here.” I open the doors and step out onto the covered deck that has an L-shaped couch in front of the stone fireplace, dining table, and outdoor kitchen. It’s one of my favorite spaces in the house, with views of the infinity pool below, the golf course, and Tennessee hills.
“This is beautiful.”
“It is, and you can tell your clients that all the outdoor furniture is included in the sale along with the two golf carts that are parked in the second garage.”
“Can you imagine having that kind of money?” She spins to face me. “Like you don’t care that you’re giving away thousands of dollars in stuff when you sell your house?”
“I can’t,” I mumble.
“Me neither.” She shakes her head before following me back into the kitchen, and I stop at the island.
“The master bath has also been recently remodeled, the entertainment room just had the sound system upgraded, and the entire house had all carpet replaced. Really, it’s the perfect house; it just needs the right buyer.”
“I can see that.” She picks up one of the detail lists off the counter, one of the few left since the last time I came to restock. With the owners out of town visiting their home in the Hamptons, it’s made it easier for realtors to schedule showings, which means there are a lot more viewings. But unfortunately, most of them are people who just want to look at the house with no intention of purchasing.
“I’m going to use the restroom, then I’ll head out,” I tell her when she starts to turn on the lights.
“Sure, and thanks again for coming. Hopefully, I’ll have good news for you this evening.”
“Fingers crossed.” I smile, then head to the half bath down the hall. After taking care of business and washing my hands, I untie my hair so I can put it back into a bun that is just as messy as the one I had it in before, minus the pieces falling out. After checking my refection one last time, I open the door to the bathroom and walk to the kitchen.
Not seeing Shell there, I move to the front door but stop dead in my tracks when I see her on the floor, with a redheaded woman standing over her. As I gasp, the woman spins around, taking a step back from Shell, dropping her purse.
“Sh-She just pass… passed out,” the woman stammers, and I quickly make my way across the space between us and drop to my knees at Shell’s side, grabbing her jaw with the tips of my fingers.
“Shell? Shell, are you okay?” I shake her, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t even seem to take a breath. I turn to look up at the woman to tell her to call 911, but as I do, something slams into the back of my head, and pain registers right before darkness takes me.
_______________
I COME AWAKE with a groan and wrap my hand around my head when it throbs, feeling wetness against the tips of my fingers. It takes me a minute to get my eyes to open, and when they do, I look up at a blank ceiling and notice a couch on one side of me and a coffee table on the other. I close my eyes, trying to piece together where I am and why my head is aching, and that’s when everything comes back to me.
Shell, the woman, and being hit.
Oh God.
I force my eyes back open, and my stomach churns. Fighting the urge to puke, I roll to my belly, then push up to my knees. Ignoring the red on the almost-white carpet, I grab onto the couch to hold myself up for a moment, hoping that the pause will ease some of the dizziness. Once I’m sure I won’t vomit or pass out, I stand and look around, seeing I’m in the front living room at the Hudson house.
Relieved, I stumble on shaking legs toward the entryway, and I’m halfway there when I hear a scream. My stomach twists at the sound, and I glance at the door, my exit to safety, then toward the direction I heard the pain-filled sound coming from.
Without thinking, I head to the kitchen slowly, making sure to keep low and hopefully out of sight, then once there, I start to quietly search for something to use as a weapon. The first drawer I open is nothing but restaurant flyers, the next wooden spoons, and it isn’t until the third one that I find a bamboo block filled with a variety of knives. Hearing a cry of pain, I grab the biggest knife I see, then with my heart pounding so hard the blood in my veins is making a whooshing sound in my ears, I walk with my back pressed against the wall toward the master bedroom. The only door that is closed at the end of the long hall.