Lucy sat in her car outside the small brick bungalow, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
She dialed.
“Hey, superstar.”
“Lucy, I’m literally carrying three balloons, a cheese tray, and a sign in heels. This better be good,” Mia said, a little out of breath, traffic humming in the background.
“Are you alone?”
A pause. “You mean at the listing? Yeah. Why?”
Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose, watching a couple walk their dog across the street. “Because I was just taking pictures of a woman who didn’t get to go home. That’s why.”
The joking tone on the other end faded. “You’re at another one?”
“Third in two months,” Lucy said. “Same setup. Empty house, nice neighborhood, female Realtor, middle of the day. You’ve seen the news, Mia.”
“I turn it off when it’s you,” Mia said softly. “Look, I know it’s bad. But I can’t cancel every open house. This is my job.”
“I’m not asking you to quit.” Lucy watched the neighbors disappear around the corner. “I’m asking you not to be alone. Ever. Not until we catch him.”
“I can’t afford a bodyguard.”
“Bring an assistant, a friend, anyone. You don’t unlock a door by yourself. You don’t prop it open. You don’t—” She stopped, hearing the sharp edge in her own voice.
On the line, Mia exhaled. “You hear yourself, right? You want me padlocked in the house as Mom did with you after dark.”
“That was different.”
“Was it?” Mia’s voice gentled, then: “Lu, you hunt monsters. I sell houses. If I live like your monsters are in every pantry, I’ll go crazy.”
Lucy glanced at the crime scene tape flickering in the wind behind her. “He hides in pantries,” she said quietly.
Silence. She could picture Mia stopping in some driveway, balloons tugging at her wrist.
“All right,” Mia said at last. “Rules. Give me rules instead of panic. You’re good at rules.”
Lucy straightened a little in her seat. “Fine. You text me the address and the time before every showing or open house. You park on the street, not in the driveway. You keep your phone on you, not in your bag. You check every room before you lock yourself inside with a stranger. If anything feels off, you leave. No commission is worth your life.”
“That’s very dramatic,” Mia said, but there was a tremor under the humor.
“I’m not being dramatic.” Lucy’s voice dropped. “I was just standing over someone who thought she had ten more minutes to arrange cookies.”
Another beat.
“Okay,” Mia said. “Text and call. No pantries. No back sliders.
Despite herself, Lucy smiled. “Good. And if I call and you don’t pick up, I’m sending half the department to your listing.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Mia let out a small laugh. “You know, when we were kids, and you checked my closet for monsters, I thought you were just being a bossy big sister.”
“I was,” Lucy said. “Now I know what they look like.”
On the other end, keys jingled; a car door opened. “I’ve got an open house at two,” Mia said. “I’ll text you the address. You can put me on your murder board or whatever.”
“It’s called a crime board,” Lucy said, but her throat tightened.
“Crime board. Right.” Mia hesitated. “Hey, Lu?”
“Yeah?”
“Catch him fast. Not just for your victims, but for me. So I can stop hearing pantries creak every time I unlock a door.”
Lucy stared at the house across from her, at the neat curtains drawn against the afternoon light.
“I’m working on it,” she said. “I promise.”
She ended the call, slipped her phone back into her pocket, and turned toward the camera flash waiting inside the house.
Excerpt 2 from The Open House Killer to be continued.
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