pulled her curtain to the side to afford herself a better view, the shape had . . . disappeared. Not moved away from the window. Not bent down out of view. Just . . . disappeared. As if it had never been there at all.
Not sure why she did it—probably because Audrey’s frantic visit of a few mornings ago was still fresh in her mind—Cecilia had quickly dressed in faded blue jeans and an even more faded black T-shirt, had tugged on her black Converse low-riders, and had come over to make sure her neighbor was okay. She knew nothing about the woman who lived here, save what Finn and Stephen had told her. That Audrey Magill, a woman in her late thirties, was a widow, and that she made Derby hats, and that she was trying to get a home business as a milliner off the ground, even though Cecilia had thought the word “milliner” was one that only showed up in historical romance novels these days. She’d met Audrey herself only a handful of times. They’d made the occasional small talk when they’d encountered each other outside, but Finn and Stephen had also had her over for a wine-and-cheese party a few weeks ago. And then, of course, there was the other day, when Audrey came running over because her house had been broken into.
Correction. Because she thought her house had been broken into. What she had described sounded more like a run-of-the-mill poltergeist to Cecilia. Not that Cecilia was an expert on the paranormal. She just watched way too much Discovery Channel, that was all. And way too much Learning Channel. And way too much Lifetime TV. And also HGTV, DIY, VH1, HSN, CNN, ESPN, and all those other channels that IDed themselves by letters. She liked TV. So sue her. It beat the hell out of having to deal with people on a regular basis. And what else was she supposed to do until she found a job? Or, at least, a job that didn’t involve being around men, since the four jobs she’d managed to find during the six months she’d spent in Louisville had all ended badly the moment she’d had to interact with a heterosexual Y-chromosome.
Inhaling a deep breath, Cecilia smoothed one hand over the close-cropped and still-damp auburn hair she’d forgotten to comb, then made her way through the wrought iron gate at the foot of the front walk. It was never too late to drop in and welcome someone to the neighborhood, right? Even if that someone had lived next door for more than a month. And even if she’d already met her a few times and had neglected to say, “Hey, welcome to the neighborhood.” And even if there might be a great, looming hulk poised ready to attack lurking in the shadows of said neighbor’s home.
And even if, until now, Cecilia had gone out of her way to not run into Audrey. It was nothing personal. She went out of her way to not run into everyone.
But between the mystery shadow this morning and Audrey’s panic the other day, something had crept into a place inside Cecilia that she’d been battling to keep locked up for months. Worse, whatever it was had started poking around and stirring up things she still struggled to keep battened down tight. She understood panic like Audrey had been overwhelmed by the other day. She understood fear. She understood not feeling—not being—safe. And if there was any chance her neighbor might be in danger, Cecilia felt duty-bound to help her.
But all those things she’d tried to keep locked up started tap-tap-tapping at the back of her brain as she studied her neighbor’s third-floor turret windows, and they all urged her to run away. Fast. So she did what her therapist had instructed her to do whenever she felt the fears creeping in. She closed her eyes and reminded herself she was safe now. Vincent Strayer was thousands of miles away and would never be able to find her, even if he was looking. She hadn’t just changed her address when she left him and moved clear across the country. She’d changed her name, her appearance, her friends, her job—well, she
Not sure why she did it—probably because Audrey’s frantic visit of a few mornings ago was still fresh in her mind—Cecilia had quickly dressed in faded blue jeans and an even more faded black T-shirt, had tugged on her black Converse low-riders, and had come over to make sure her neighbor was okay. She knew nothing about the woman who lived here, save what Finn and Stephen had told her. That Audrey Magill, a woman in her late thirties, was a widow, and that she made Derby hats, and that she was trying to get a home business as a milliner off the ground, even though Cecilia had thought the word “milliner” was one that only showed up in historical romance novels these days. She’d met Audrey herself only a handful of times. They’d made the occasional small talk when they’d encountered each other outside, but Finn and Stephen had also had her over for a wine-and-cheese party a few weeks ago. And then, of course, there was the other day, when Audrey came running over because her house had been broken into.
Correction. Because she thought her house had been broken into. What she had described sounded more like a run-of-the-mill poltergeist to Cecilia. Not that Cecilia was an expert on the paranormal. She just watched way too much Discovery Channel, that was all. And way too much Learning Channel. And way too much Lifetime TV. And also HGTV, DIY, VH1, HSN, CNN, ESPN, and all those other channels that IDed themselves by letters. She liked TV. So sue her. It beat the hell out of having to deal with people on a regular basis. And what else was she supposed to do until she found a job? Or, at least, a job that didn’t involve being around men, since the four jobs she’d managed to find during the six months she’d spent in Louisville had all ended badly the moment she’d had to interact with a heterosexual Y-chromosome.
Inhaling a deep breath, Cecilia smoothed one hand over the close-cropped and still-damp auburn hair she’d forgotten to comb, then made her way through the wrought iron gate at the foot of the front walk. It was never too late to drop in and welcome someone to the neighborhood, right? Even if that someone had lived next door for more than a month. And even if she’d already met her a few times and had neglected to say, “Hey, welcome to the neighborhood.” And even if there might be a great, looming hulk poised ready to attack lurking in the shadows of said neighbor’s home.
And even if, until now, Cecilia had gone out of her way to not run into Audrey. It was nothing personal. She went out of her way to not run into everyone.
But between the mystery shadow this morning and Audrey’s panic the other day, something had crept into a place inside Cecilia that she’d been battling to keep locked up for months. Worse, whatever it was had started poking around and stirring up things she still struggled to keep battened down tight. She understood panic like Audrey had been overwhelmed by the other day. She understood fear. She understood not feeling—not being—safe. And if there was any chance her neighbor might be in danger, Cecilia felt duty-bound to help her.
But all those things she’d tried to keep locked up started tap-tap-tapping at the back of her brain as she studied her neighbor’s third-floor turret windows, and they all urged her to run away. Fast. So she did what her therapist had instructed her to do whenever she felt the fears creeping in. She closed her eyes and reminded herself she was safe now. Vincent Strayer was thousands of miles away and would never be able to find her, even if he was looking. She hadn’t just changed her address when she left him and moved clear across the country. She’d changed her name, her appearance, her friends, her job—well, she
Similar Books
