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Page 125
viously unaware of the danger.
"Shh!" D.J. duckwalked over to the front of the porch and peered over the top. The street lay deserted.
She stood. Could she have imagined the sound?
Turning, she stepped over McCall, who continued to lay on the floor where she'd thrown him, staring at her with confusion in his eyes. Thankfully, he remained silent and did not pepper her with questions she had no answer for yet. She hadn't realized until just that moment how much she admired a quiet man.
D.J. leaned forward and squinted at the wall of the house she'd been leaning against only seconds before.
No, her imagination wasn't working overtime. She might see and hear angels, but she knew a gunshot when she heard one.
And the proof lay in the neat bullet hole through the side of Christian McCall's house.

 
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