With Robbie watching my every move, I threw on jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. I was on my way out of the room when Robbie began to whimper. “It’s okay, sweetie,” I said, lifting him up and giving him a hug. “Go back to bed.”
I set him down in his bed and petted his back a few times until I felt him settling. “Good boy,” I whispered, and closed the door to keep him and Tiger safe in the room. I tiptoed down the hall to avoid waking Jane, who had spent the night. Then I ran down the stairs to the kitchen to get Jesse’s key. Seconds later I was out the kitchen door, skulking over to the gate so as not to make any noise. I had to press down on the gate to keep it from squeaking when I pulled it open.
“Maybe Jane’s in there,” I muttered, although I couldn’t imagine why she would go over to Jesse’s house alone at this hour of the night. I could understand if she’d stopped to wake me and drag me along, but she hadn’t.
I snuck up Jesse’s walkway and saw another beam of light flash across the draped window. And that was when I stopped walking. My sensible inner voice was starting to shriek at me. Who are you? One of those dumb heroines in a trashy horror movie? The one who goes running into the swamp and ends up being eaten by monster crocodiles?
No, that wasn’t me.
I should’ve called the police rather than confront whoever was inside. And there was definitely someone inside Jesse’s house. I could see the flashlight beam moving around. Was it Jane, after all? Or was it the same person who had trashed Jesse’s house before? What was he, or she, looking for? Was it the same person who killed Jesse?
It had to be the same person.
Time to go home and call the police, I thought. But before I could do anything, I heard a noise behind me. I whirled around and saw a dark figure approaching.
I screamed.
“Shush!”
I recognized the voice and clapped my hands over my mouth, officially embarrassed. I sounded like such a girl. I mean, I am a girl, but I was only now realizing how vulnerable I was.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Mac,” I whispered. I wanted to faint with relief, but that would be stupid. “What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first,” he whispered. “Never mind. I was following you.”
“I saw a light,” I said.
“Yeah, me, too. And then I saw you sneaking around and knew I’d better find out what the hell you were up to.”
Mac pulled me off the walkway into the shadows under a sycamore tree. “So, what’s the story?”
“We don’t have time to talk,” I whispered impatiently. “Whoever’s in there could be the same person who killed Jesse.”
“Killed Jesse?” he repeated. “Has the coroner determined cause of death, then?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t die of natural causes. If you’d seen his house, you’d think so, too. The place is a mess.” I turned toward the house. “We have to find out who’s in there.”
“Okay,” he said, easily pulling me back. “I’ll go check things out and you wait here.”
“No way,” I said, affronted. “You’re a writer. You know what’ll happen if we split up.”
“Right. You’ll get lost in the woods and trip over a rock and sprain your ankle.”
“Exactly.” Wasn’t that what always happened? And then the girl would either die of exposure or be killed by a diabolical ax murderer. Luckily that was all in my head and not something I said out loud.
“Okay,” he said, acknowledging my point. “But you stay behind me. Got it?”
“All right.” I had no problem agreeing to that. “Here’s the key.”
He led the way up to the porch and over to the front door. “Hold on to my belt so I know you’re back there,” he said, and quietly inserted the key in the lock.
Mac opened the door silently and pulled me inside. He closed the door behind me and we stopped and waited in the foyer, listening to every sound. The creaks and groans of the old house seemed to be magnified at this hour of the night.
He leaned close to whisper in my ear, “We’ll start with Jesse’s room.”
“It’s this way,” I said, nudging him toward the hall. And that was when I noticed that Mac was carrying a gun. My knees began to shake. Not that I hadn’t ever seen a gun before. Of course I had. I’d even gone to the firing range a few times, but that was for fun. This was deadly serious. Someone could get killed.
After a few steadying breaths, I figured Mac knew what he was doing. After all, he’d been a Navy SEAL just like his protagonist, and he wrote about crime all the time.
He walked down the hall to the master bedroom at the end. I walked close behind him, praying we didn’t run into anyone he thought he should shoot.
We searched the entire house, including the basement, but didn’t find anyone.
“They must’ve heard me scream and escaped out the back door,” I whispered, disgusted with myself.
“Yeah, maybe.”
We checked the back door and found it unlocked.
“I can’t believe the police forgot to lock up the place.”