Her head pivoted as she retreated. Her brain screamed Where is it? over and over. She scanned the floor, the doorway, the area rug, all the while easing toward the door. Matt was at her side, the rifle aimed in the same direction as her handgun. Though the snake had moved so fast, she couldn’t have gotten off a shot. She radioed her deputies to warn them.
Bree never took her eyes off the end of the hall as Matt pulled her outside. He closed the door. Bree fell on her butt on the step just as her deputies raced out of the house.
Kneeling in front of her, Matt ripped at her laces and yanked off her boot. He stripped off her sock and held her foot up. He inspected the bottom of her foot and between her toes. “Where did it bite you?”
“I don’t feel anything.” She’d felt the impact of the strike and the weight of the animal suspended from her boot, but the adrenaline flooding her body could have blocked any pain. Her lungs locked. She couldn’t breathe. Her pulse skyrocketed out of control, the wild cadence of her heartbeat turning her stomach. Was that the venom working its way through her body?
How long did it take to die from a rattlesnake bite?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bree stared down at her bare foot. “I don’t see a bite.”
Matt rolled her pant leg to her knee and examined her calf. “Me neither. Do you have any pain?”
“No.” Bree reached for her boot and turned it over. She pointed to a pair of punctures on the thick sole of the boot. Damn. Those fangs were long and sharp. “Here’s where it got me.”
“Are you sure?” He took the boot and turned it over, his expression doubtful. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“Maybe you should go to the ER anyway, just to be safe.”
“Because it almost bit me?”
“I guess not.” Matt sat back on his haunches, relief showing in his eyes. “Want me to call animal control?”
Bree nodded. “We have a guy who’s good with snakes, but I don’t know if he can handle one that’s venomous.”
“If not, I’ll call the zoo.” Matt opened his phone.
Bree scrubbed both hands down her face. She shivered. Despite the cold, a layer of adrenaline sweat had soaked into her uniform. More deputies had arrived, along with an EMT unit. Bree addressed the EMT. “The victim is dead. Nothing you can do for him.”
“There’s a rattlesnake inside,” Matt said.
The EMT’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”
“Yep.” Matt gestured toward Bree. “It struck the sheriff’s boot. Could she have a bite and not know it?”
The EMT frowned. “You’d likely see puncture marks, but watch for pain, swelling, nausea, dizziness, numbness or tingling of your fingers, rapid heart rate . . . If you feel weird in any way, head to the ER.”
Bree nodded, though she was feeling half of those symptoms from adrenaline overload. She put her sock and boot back on. From now on, these were her lucky boots.
The EMT returned to his vehicle.
Bree tied her laces. “I’m going to talk to the witness again.”
Matt stepped away and spoke into his phone. Bree called Dana and put her on high alert. The note from the killer to her was a personal threat. Dana would stick close to the kids until he or she was caught. Bree called Adam again. When his voice mail answered, she left another message. Worry for him crawled through her. Where is he?
Bree paused for a few steadying, head-clearing gulps of cold air before walking toward Susan. Two more patrol cars had arrived. Todd and Juarez conferred with the two responding deputies.
Bree headed for the Toyota. Susan had closed the door, and the engine was running. When Bree approached, Susan motioned for her to get into the car. Bree slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.
Susan drank from a bottle of water. She adjusted the dashboard vents to aim at Bree.
Bree was grateful for the heat.
Susan reached behind the seat and produced a water bottle. She handed it to Bree. “You look like you need this.”
“Thanks.” Bree twisted off the cap and took a long swallow.
“What happened in there?” Susan set her own bottle in the cup holder.
Bree sipped more water. “When you were inside, did you see an aquarium in the corner of the den?”
Susan cocked her head. “An aquarium?”
Bree nodded.
“No,” Susan said. “Mr. Northcott doesn’t have fish.”
“This one was outfitted for a reptile.”
“Mr. Northcott doesn’t—didn’t—have any pets.”
“There’s a snake loose inside the house.”
“A snake?” Susan shuddered. “Did you kill it?”
“No.” Bree didn’t get any more specific about the type of snake, though there was no way she’d be able to keep the rattlesnake’s presence a secret. “Walk me through your movements when you arrived here.”
Susan emitted a quivery sigh. “I came to clean a few minutes before eight, like I do every other week. I let myself in and dumped my stuff by the door.” She paused for a pained breath. “I knew something was off. For one, the TV was on.” She summed up walking through the house, finding Northcott, and freaking out. By the time she got to the end of the story, she looked as if she were going to be sick.
“How often do you clean this house?” Bree nodded toward the residence.
“Every other week.” Crossing her arms, Susan rubbed her own biceps.
The car was toasty inside, but a chill had settled into Bree’s bones. “And how long has Mr. Northcott been your client?”
“About a year, but he’s never here when I come. We’ve only met in person twice.”
“He met you twice and gave you a key?”
Susan nodded. “I have great references. Most of my clients have been with me for years.”
“How did he become a client?” Bree asked.
Susan swiped a gloved hand under her nose. “I clean three other houses on this street. Mr. Northcott saw me unloading my mops and stuff one day and asked about my rates. I started cleaning for him the next week.”
“Do you ever talk to him?”
Susan adjusted her seat. “We text. I let him know if I need to move his cleaning day. He does the same.”
“Have you seen anyone hanging around the house recently?”
Susan shook her head. “No.”
“Do you know of any threats to Mr. Northcott? Do the neighbors like him?”
Susan looked up at Bree. “No. The house is empty when I come. The most personal information I know is that he uses Preparation H, has a prescription shampoo for thinning hair, and likes porn. Other than that . . .” She shrugged. “I clean four houses a day. I don’t have time to snoop on my clients, and honestly—I don’t want to know their secrets. I just don’t. I have enough drama in my own life.”
“Don’t we all,” Bree said.
An animal control vehicle pulled up to the curb. Bree reached for the door handle and said to Susan, “We’ll contact you if we have more questions. Also, we’ll ask you to come to the station and sign a formal statement in a day or so.”
“OK. Can I go?” Susan asked.