driving.
She groaned, leaning her head against the headrest. As a precaution, she hit the lock on her doors, hearing the reassuringly click as all four doors locked. She was reduced to being a prisoner in her own car.
Not a good sign.
Given that she had no idea where he was in relation to her, but it was heading into rush hour traffic, she figured she had at least a twenty-minute wait. She opened her phone and tried Theresa again. No answer. She left a message again.
A vehicle drove slowly past her on the street. The man driving looked at her house and the car slowed yet again. She studied the vehicle, but she didn’t know it. Or the driver. The driver stuck his head out of the window and twisted to look behind him. His gaze caught sight of her in the car.
She slunk lower. Instantly he withdrew inside and gunned the car.
And raced away.
Shaking, she stayed low and wrapped her arms around her chest. Jesus, what the hell was going on?
When a Jeep drove past and slowed, she pushed herself up again and watched as Cooper parked in her driveway and got out. He took a quick look around, caught sight of her and motioned with his hand for her to stay there. And he disappeared around the back of her house. Leaving her to wait.
*
Cooper walked straight to the back of the house, his gaze intent on the window fastenings, the door lock. Neither appeared to have been tampered with on this side. Didn’t mean an intruder didn’t break in on a different side. At the kitchen door, he paused. The door was ajar. Not by much, and it could have easily been from Sasha’s quick exit from the house. He applauded her common sense and intuition.
Even if this was a false alarm, it was better than finding her dead.
He nudged the door open and stepped inside. There were no footprints or other obvious signs of an intruder. And the knife she’d mentioned was missing from the butcher block.
But had she misplaced it?
Or had someone picked it up. He searched the downstairs, but there was no signs of forced entry. And the silence in the place was deafening. The house had an unlived look to it. Then she’d been gone for three months leaving it empty. Possibly it had been broken into during that time and her knife stolen then. Although a thief wouldn’t likely take the one knife from a set. Not if they were looking to pawn items.
His gaze landed on the new television. If there’d been a thief, they’d have taken the television. As they hadn’t, then a break in wasn’t the likely answer. The downstairs appeared to be empty and undisturbed.
He looked out the living room window to see Sasha outside in the car watching the house, her face creased with worry.
She’d been through a hell of an ordeal already. She appeared to be handling it – until today.
Then incidences piled up and pushed her to react in fear. Maybe justified. Maybe not.
He wished she’d called earlier when she first thought she was being followed. He understood. He’d been weeks looking over his shoulder after getting shot. It was something only another survivor would understand.
He’d been there and done that.
He was sorry she was here now.
Upstairs in the small two-story house he checked out the second bedroom first, but it was completely empty. He opened the closets anyway. Empty.
The bathroom was the same.
In the main bedroom he stopped, his breath caught in the back of his throat.
The bedding on the double bed had been shredded. By a large knife. And it was still on the center of the bed. Beside the knife was a picture of Sasha and her ex-husband Greg. The picture had been cut in half too.
Shit. Thank God Sasha had raced out of the house.
He checked that the bedroom was empty, his mind consumed with “what if” scenarios. He gave the rest of the room a cursory look to make sure it was empty. Then checked out the bathroom. On the way downstairs, he started the first of several calls. The police would have to be called in now. What if Sasha had gone
She groaned, leaning her head against the headrest. As a precaution, she hit the lock on her doors, hearing the reassuringly click as all four doors locked. She was reduced to being a prisoner in her own car.
Not a good sign.
Given that she had no idea where he was in relation to her, but it was heading into rush hour traffic, she figured she had at least a twenty-minute wait. She opened her phone and tried Theresa again. No answer. She left a message again.
A vehicle drove slowly past her on the street. The man driving looked at her house and the car slowed yet again. She studied the vehicle, but she didn’t know it. Or the driver. The driver stuck his head out of the window and twisted to look behind him. His gaze caught sight of her in the car.
She slunk lower. Instantly he withdrew inside and gunned the car.
And raced away.
Shaking, she stayed low and wrapped her arms around her chest. Jesus, what the hell was going on?
When a Jeep drove past and slowed, she pushed herself up again and watched as Cooper parked in her driveway and got out. He took a quick look around, caught sight of her and motioned with his hand for her to stay there. And he disappeared around the back of her house. Leaving her to wait.
*
Cooper walked straight to the back of the house, his gaze intent on the window fastenings, the door lock. Neither appeared to have been tampered with on this side. Didn’t mean an intruder didn’t break in on a different side. At the kitchen door, he paused. The door was ajar. Not by much, and it could have easily been from Sasha’s quick exit from the house. He applauded her common sense and intuition.
Even if this was a false alarm, it was better than finding her dead.
He nudged the door open and stepped inside. There were no footprints or other obvious signs of an intruder. And the knife she’d mentioned was missing from the butcher block.
But had she misplaced it?
Or had someone picked it up. He searched the downstairs, but there was no signs of forced entry. And the silence in the place was deafening. The house had an unlived look to it. Then she’d been gone for three months leaving it empty. Possibly it had been broken into during that time and her knife stolen then. Although a thief wouldn’t likely take the one knife from a set. Not if they were looking to pawn items.
His gaze landed on the new television. If there’d been a thief, they’d have taken the television. As they hadn’t, then a break in wasn’t the likely answer. The downstairs appeared to be empty and undisturbed.
He looked out the living room window to see Sasha outside in the car watching the house, her face creased with worry.
She’d been through a hell of an ordeal already. She appeared to be handling it – until today.
Then incidences piled up and pushed her to react in fear. Maybe justified. Maybe not.
He wished she’d called earlier when she first thought she was being followed. He understood. He’d been weeks looking over his shoulder after getting shot. It was something only another survivor would understand.
He’d been there and done that.
He was sorry she was here now.
Upstairs in the small two-story house he checked out the second bedroom first, but it was completely empty. He opened the closets anyway. Empty.
The bathroom was the same.
In the main bedroom he stopped, his breath caught in the back of his throat.
The bedding on the double bed had been shredded. By a large knife. And it was still on the center of the bed. Beside the knife was a picture of Sasha and her ex-husband Greg. The picture had been cut in half too.
Shit. Thank God Sasha had raced out of the house.
He checked that the bedroom was empty, his mind consumed with “what if” scenarios. He gave the rest of the room a cursory look to make sure it was empty. Then checked out the bathroom. On the way downstairs, he started the first of several calls. The police would have to be called in now. What if Sasha had gone
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