In this installment, our hero finds that even home isn’t safe where the amulet is concerned.
By the time Taylor pulled into his driveway, it was well after supper. Thankfully he’d already told Martha not to hold dinner for him. He hadn’t anticipated being this late, but he didn’t really know when he was going to be back. He blocked in his wife’s car, even though he hadn’t needed to. He exited the Land Rover and the security light turned on, illuminating their walkway. A fierce believer in conservation, Martha had insisted there would be no grass in their yard. Only native plants and rock would grace the property, in addition to some trees. It made the whole place look a little stark, but the austerity suited his mood.
Rather than enter the house proper, he walked to the door into the garage. Like most people he knew, they never actually parked a car in here. He’d made it into a sort of satellite office. There was space here for extra file storage, a few woodworking projects, and items from his travels around the world. Truthfully it was a dumping ground and he and Martha fought over it for years. He heard footsteps from people moving around upstairs. Soundproofing this area was another thing on his to do list. He’d never get around to that now. He walked to his desk and pulled a box of shells out of the drawer. With mechanical motions he loaded both pistols. Rather than taking the gun belt off as was his custom, he just made sure his shirt draped over it again. He wouldn’t be staying long.
