She was about to go back to the kitchen to finish making her tea when something stopped her.
Movement across the street in Jim and Ellie Sandford’s yard.
Clare squinted. The moon had shifted and freed itself of the clouds, splashing wan light amidst puddles of shadow. The motion she’d caught had been between the house and the privacy fence at the edge of the Sandfords’ lawn. She focused on a darker shape near the corner of the fence, unsure whether it had been there moments ago. As she watched, the shape separated itself from the corner and slid along the fence line. She lost it in a the deeper darkness of a towering pine near the sidewalk.
What had it been? A dog? No, it was too large. But it was also strangely slumped for a man. A weird angle to its upper portion, like it had been put together crookedly.
The kettle began its low hum, which became a hollow whistle. Clare hurried to the kitchen, pulling the kettle from the burner. But instead of pouring hot water into the waiting cup on the counter, she moved to the front entry, peering out through one of the narrow panes of glass bookending the door.
The street was unchanged. Nothing out of place. She centered her attention on the Sandfords’ yard, throwing glances at the Millers’ yard next door. What had she seen? A prowler? One of the teenagers from down the street doing something stupid to amuse their friends? Or was it vestiges of the dream invading reality through her worn senses? The latter was most likely. Meeting with Beverly and Manda had wound her nerves tighter. And what she’d found in Eric’s bedside drawer, that above all else was—
A board on their front porch creaked.
Clare froze, eyes shooting to the right as a sickening tingle climbed up her back.
Something was standing at the far end of their porch.
Her eyes watered both from fear and from resisting the urge to blink. A slumped shadow leaned against the side of the house a few feet from the kitchen window. She could barely make out its shape, but it looked man-like. Allowing herself a half breath, she ran through a thousand different thoughts of action. Scream? Stay quiet and watch? Go get her pistol? Call the police?
The shape moved in an odd sliding motion and tipped itself over the porch railing into the yew bush growing below.
Clare double-checked the front door was locked, then hurried as fast and as quietly as she could through the kitchen to the dining room, catching a glimpse of movement rounding the corner of the house through the large window. Without slowing she angled toward the living room and into the rear entry at the back of the home.
Their backyard was barely an acre, surrounded by low bramble giving way to mature trees on either side. The nearest neighboring houses were fifty paces through the growth. In the summer and fall the structures weren’t visible at all from the yard.
Clare watched the entire clearing, honing in on the left side where she guessed the figure would emerge.
Seconds ticked by.
Minutes.
Her fingers began to ache from where they rested on the light switch that would throw the space into bright relief.
Where had it gone? Back to the front porch? Across the street? Into the neighbor’s yard? Had it really been there at all? Stop it. She chided herself for doubting what she’d seen. Someone or something had been on their porch. It had been, what . . . pressing itself against the siding? Scoping out the interior through one of the windows?
Her mouth was beyond dry. Heartbeat bashing against her eardrums.
There.
She flipped on the light, half expecting whoever it was to be climbing the rear stairs, pinned in place by the sudden blast of LED.
No one stood in the yard. Nothing mounted the stairs. On the left side of the yard a branch shifted, swinging back into place. It could’ve been a natural movement, the tree realigning itself from an earlier gust of wind or passage of an animal. But she didn’t believe it for a second, because she could feel something—a sensation she’d chocked up to the nightmare’s residue when she’d initially come downstairs.
It was the heavy weight of eyes on the house. The feeling of being watched.
Chapter Five
“Are you sure?”
Eric stood beside the kitchen island, sipping his first cup of coffee. He’d appeared in the stairway a little after six, still on workweek time which required him to be at his computer no later than six thirty to meet the East Coast market’s opening bell. Dawn was a brilliant gold pouring into the house and filling it with early warmth. Everything was so opposite from the night, so normal and right, Clare also continued to question herself about what she’d seen.
“I don’t know who or what it was, but yes, there was someone skulking around the house.”
“Skulking.” He smirked.
“Shut up, it’s a good word.”
Eric raised one palm in submission. “But you didn’t get a good look at them.”
“No. They looked . . . weird. Like a toy that got stepped on and broken.”
“And they didn’t try getting into the house?”
“No. They were just, I don’t know, standing there. Then whoever it was walked around the side yard and went into the woods.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“By the time I really knew something was wrong, they were gone.”
“So instead you got your gun out and sat down here in the dark until sunrise.”
Clare glanced at the compact Ruger pistol lying on the coffee table within easy reach. Adam had encouraged her to get her license and training after a particularly ugly legal battle with a separatist group in northern California two years ago. She’d initially brushed off the notion of owning a gun, but after receiving a half dozen death threats she’d followed through on his advice. Now she looked guiltily at the weapon. “I didn’t . . .”
“Didn’t what?” he asked gently.
“I didn’t know if it was real or not.” She let her gaze drop to the floor.
Eric set his coffee down and sat beside her, drawing one of her hands into his own. “Do you think you were awake?”
“Yes.”
“Then you saw something. I’ll talk to Bryan this morning; he’s always on the lookout for the neighborhood. Maybe he saw someone too. Or noticed someone hanging around lately.”
“Don’t ask him. The only people he thinks are a threat are ones who have more melanin than he does.”
“That’s probably true.”
Clare sighed. “It might’ve just been a drunk. Someone got confused, wandered through the Sandfords’ yard and onto our porch.”
“Could’ve been.”
“But . . .”
“But?”
“But it didn’t feel like that. It felt like whoever it was, meant to do what they did. Like they were here for something.”
Eric frowned. “We haven’t been arming the security system for a while. Maybe we should start again.” Clare nodded and he stood, moving toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I’ll make some eggs.”
“Not really. Think I’ll run over and visit Lia quick.”
“Okay.”
Upstairs she changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater, winding her hair up in a simple bun. She emailed Adam the collected files regarding Shining Rock Church, then sent a text to Lia inquiring if she had time to talk, and was rewarded with a response almost immediately.