quickly dragged on
a pair of jeans and a sweater. Rummaging around on the floor, she
managed to locate her brush, and a few flicks through her hair took
care of the tangles whipped in it from the wind. Then she set about
finding underwear and night-clothes that weren't saturated with
perfume, stuffing them into one side of the suitcase. She then
straightened the clothes that Greg had thrown in, adding the rest of
the undamaged things. After that, she walked down the hall in search
of her purse. It was where she had left it, in the hall cupboard at the
bottom, with the linen. Out of curiosity she rummaged through her
wallet with a puzzled frown. A step sounded behind her and she
jumped before realising that it was only Greg returning from the
garage. He surveyed her kneeling posture. 'Anything missing?'
She shook her head slowly. 'No. All the cash I had is still here, and
my identification. See, even my lip gloss . . . no, everything is
untouched.' She held the things in both hands and looked up with
eyes that didn't see him. 'What do you suppose he wanted?'
'Your car is still in the garage. I think we'd better drive it over to my
place just in case.' Beowulf came panting up and bumped Greg's
knee, and he reached down to rub the dog's head absently. 'There's
room in my garage.' His gaze sharpened on her. 'Stop it, Sara! He
didn't really have time to steal anything. We got here too quickly for
that; in fact, we probably scared him away. Sara?' Her eyes focussed
on him. 'You're safe, I promise. Okay?' At her nod, he said bracingly,
'Good girl. Are you packed?'
'I need my things from the bathroom,' she replied tiredly. 'I'll go and
put them in my handbag.' Greg was trying to make her feel better, but
all the same, she would have felt a little better if the unknown
intruder had at least taken her handbag. He had taken the time to rip
her room apart, surely he could have taken the time to look into
cupboards if he had been a thief. Her handbag had not been hidden,
merely put away. But she knew deep down that the intruder had not
been a thief. He had known that she was homeland it would not be
hard to find out that she lived alone. No thief would want to take the
chance of getting caught by the house's occupants; they would wait
until the occupants were gone before attempting to rob a place. That
was what scared her, and Greg knew it.
She had given him her car keys before going into the bathroom and
getting her toothbrush, cleansing cream and cosmetics, stuffing them
haphazardly into the recesses of her handbag. Then she went back
into the living room and sat quietly on the couch until Greg came
back into the house. He passed by her, however, and soon emerged
from her bedroom with a leather jacket in his hands.
'You'll need this. It's getting cold.' She stood and he helped her into it
and then, turning out all of the lights and whistling for Beowulf, he
led her out of the house. Sara saw a quick sharp glance from him, in
the light of the car's headlights. 'Do you mind if I drive?'
At that she grimaced at him. 'I'd prefer it, the way I feel now. I feel
just like a zombie!'
A guiding hand helped her into the passenger seat as he said quietly,
'You've just about had it, I think. It's been an unsettling day for such a
little girl.'
She chuckled at the gentle mocking tone. At the moment she felt like
a small child being helped by an older brother, and the feeling was
safe and pleasant. She leaned back in the bucket seat and drowsily
perused the profile of the man beside her. He was so hard and yet so
gentle. With a flash of perception she realised that he was probably
acting like an older brother on purpose. He had sensed that she was
close to the end of her tether.
Beowulf panted heavily in the small back seat, sprawled all over her
suitcase and handbag. She glanced back, grinning at his wicked white
smile and long tongue. A faint whine and wag of the tail was
a pair of jeans and a sweater. Rummaging around on the floor, she
managed to locate her brush, and a few flicks through her hair took
care of the tangles whipped in it from the wind. Then she set about
finding underwear and night-clothes that weren't saturated with
perfume, stuffing them into one side of the suitcase. She then
straightened the clothes that Greg had thrown in, adding the rest of
the undamaged things. After that, she walked down the hall in search
of her purse. It was where she had left it, in the hall cupboard at the
bottom, with the linen. Out of curiosity she rummaged through her
wallet with a puzzled frown. A step sounded behind her and she
jumped before realising that it was only Greg returning from the
garage. He surveyed her kneeling posture. 'Anything missing?'
She shook her head slowly. 'No. All the cash I had is still here, and
my identification. See, even my lip gloss . . . no, everything is
untouched.' She held the things in both hands and looked up with
eyes that didn't see him. 'What do you suppose he wanted?'
'Your car is still in the garage. I think we'd better drive it over to my
place just in case.' Beowulf came panting up and bumped Greg's
knee, and he reached down to rub the dog's head absently. 'There's
room in my garage.' His gaze sharpened on her. 'Stop it, Sara! He
didn't really have time to steal anything. We got here too quickly for
that; in fact, we probably scared him away. Sara?' Her eyes focussed
on him. 'You're safe, I promise. Okay?' At her nod, he said bracingly,
'Good girl. Are you packed?'
'I need my things from the bathroom,' she replied tiredly. 'I'll go and
put them in my handbag.' Greg was trying to make her feel better, but
all the same, she would have felt a little better if the unknown
intruder had at least taken her handbag. He had taken the time to rip
her room apart, surely he could have taken the time to look into
cupboards if he had been a thief. Her handbag had not been hidden,
merely put away. But she knew deep down that the intruder had not
been a thief. He had known that she was homeland it would not be
hard to find out that she lived alone. No thief would want to take the
chance of getting caught by the house's occupants; they would wait
until the occupants were gone before attempting to rob a place. That
was what scared her, and Greg knew it.
She had given him her car keys before going into the bathroom and
getting her toothbrush, cleansing cream and cosmetics, stuffing them
haphazardly into the recesses of her handbag. Then she went back
into the living room and sat quietly on the couch until Greg came
back into the house. He passed by her, however, and soon emerged
from her bedroom with a leather jacket in his hands.
'You'll need this. It's getting cold.' She stood and he helped her into it
and then, turning out all of the lights and whistling for Beowulf, he
led her out of the house. Sara saw a quick sharp glance from him, in
the light of the car's headlights. 'Do you mind if I drive?'
At that she grimaced at him. 'I'd prefer it, the way I feel now. I feel
just like a zombie!'
A guiding hand helped her into the passenger seat as he said quietly,
'You've just about had it, I think. It's been an unsettling day for such a
little girl.'
She chuckled at the gentle mocking tone. At the moment she felt like
a small child being helped by an older brother, and the feeling was
safe and pleasant. She leaned back in the bucket seat and drowsily
perused the profile of the man beside her. He was so hard and yet so
gentle. With a flash of perception she realised that he was probably
acting like an older brother on purpose. He had sensed that she was
close to the end of her tether.
Beowulf panted heavily in the small back seat, sprawled all over her
suitcase and handbag. She glanced back, grinning at his wicked white
smile and long tongue. A faint whine and wag of the tail was
Similar Books
