or her kid.
His reasons made sense. They just didn’t help erase the uneasy feeling that dogged him as he made his way back to his house.
She’d seemed so sure.
The look in her eyes tugged at him. When she’d stared at him over the gun. When they’d said their goodbyes moments ago. There’d been dark shadows beneath her eyes, a sign that she wasn’t sleeping much, as she’d said. But her eyes had been clear and focused. Afraid.
And sure.
His gut clenched. Was it possible? The cops hadn’t ventured much beyond the house, finding enough, or not enough, there to satisfy their belief that she’d imagined the whole thing. But then, there’d only been two of them, not really enough to do a thorough search. If they thought something had really happened, they might have called for more officers.
He stopped midway between his house and hers, considering. If someone had broken in to her house, they’d probably used the back door, the one he’d found unlocked. And they likely wouldn’t have approached the house from the front and made their way to the back from there, in plain view of the street. They would have approached from behind.
He slowly turned in that direction. Several rows of trees lined the backs of their houses, forming a thick natural border with the homes on the other side. If someone had broken in to her house, the best way to approach—and to disappear—was through the trees, maybe even parking in the driveway of the house on the other side. He didn’t know for sure, but he thought he remembered something about that house being empty. There would be no one to notice a vehicle arriving in the middle of the night and making use of its driveway.
Before he could question the impulse, he quickly moved back to his truck and retrieved a flashlight, then headed toward her backyard. It was a cloudy night, the moon only briefly and occasionally showing itself. The trees lay covered in darkness.
Switching on the light, he reached the edge of the woods behind her house and floated the beam across the ground. It didn’t take him long to spot where the dirt had been disturbed. He crossed to the location and leaned closer, having no trouble identifying the marks.
Fresh footprints.
There was no reason they should be there. He couldn’t picture his neighbor wandering around back here, leaving a cluster of footprints in shoes that looked too big to be hers. He didn’t know why someone from the other side would be over here, even if the house was occupied. She might have had somebody working in her backyard, although he couldn’t think of a reason they’d have been back this far. Not to mention the lawn didn’t look like it had been mowed that week.
The prints were messy and indistinct, as though whoever had made them had been moving too quickly to leave much of an impression. Quickly, as if they were running from a pregnant woman with a gun?
Jake stared at the marks for a long moment, trying to convince himself he wasn’t putting more stock in them than he should be. He had no reason to believe the impressions were connected to what had happened in her house tonight, and every reason to believe nothing had occurred.
Unless the intruders had been so careful to leave no trace of their presence that in their haste they overlooked this one, maybe counting on someone to discount it.
Unless he’d just missed them disappearing into the darkness as he came around the side of the house.
Unless he was already inside when they started their vehicle and drove away, if the sound had even been audible from the house.
Troubled by where his thoughts were leading him, he headed back to his house. He couldn’t call the cops with something so inconclusive. They hadn’t been inclined to believe her. He didn’t think they’d be happy to be called back for this, if they did come back. He wondered if he should tell his neighbor. She might feel better knowing there could be reason to think she was right. Or she might be better off believing she wasn’t instead of scaring her more.
Remembering the pills he’d dropped in the driveway, he started to the front of the house. He was almost there when he saw it. A car parked on the other side of the street, facing him. It sat just out of reach of the nearest streetlamps on either side, the faintest edges of their glow falling mere feet short of illuminating it. Instead, it was nearly invisible, a dark-colored sedan blending into the shadows. Still, he could see the single figure sitting in the front seat. And though he couldn’t see the person’s face, he suddenly knew without a doubt the driver was watching his neighbor’s house.
He’d kept an eye on the street while they had waited for the police. The car hadn’t been sitting there then.
Before he even thought about it, he started toward the vehicle.
He’d barely gone three steps when the driver suddenly jerked forward in his seat. The engine roared to life. Jake started to pick up speed, muscles tensing in readiness to break out into a run. That damn pain shot down his leg, causing him to miss a step.
The sedan burst forward, leaping away from the curb and onto the street with a screech of its tires. He could do nothing but watch the car tear down the street, moving so fast he couldn’t even get the license plate number.
Biting back a curse, he drew in a ragged breath. His shoulders slumped, seeming to weigh a thousand pounds each. He should be used to his body failing him by now. That didn’t make it any easier to take.
He’d started to turn back toward his house when his gaze fell on his neighbor’s. The curtain in the front window shifted slightly. She must have looked out to see what the noise was.
Grimacing, he changed direction, heading for her front door. The curtain shifted again. He knew she was watching.
By the time he made it to the door, she was already opening it a crack, peering out over the chain she kept fastened. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t think you were imagining anything.”
Her eyes went wide. She slammed the door shut. He heard the sound of the chain being withdrawn before she pulled the door open farther, the other hand braced protectively on her belly.
“What are you talking about?”
“There are fresh footprints by the trees behind your house. And that car was sitting across the street. I think the driver was watching your house.”
She swallowed hard, looking as if she was going to be sick. “I knew it was real.”
“They could come back. You shouldn’t stay here.”
“I have my gun.”
“Next time they might, too.”
He saw the words hit home. She gave her head a shaky nod. “You’re right. I’ll go to a hotel or something….”
Her voice wobbled just the slightest bit, enough that he felt it like a low blow in his gut. She looked scared and vulnerable, as if she wanted to look over her shoulder and make sure there was nobody there, waiting to jump out at her from inside her own home. Which suddenly seemed all too possible. Hell, how did either of them know somebody hadn’t managed to break back in again? They had already managed to do it one time without leaving any trace.
As if she was thinking the same thing, her other hand went to her stomach, her
