The slam of wood against wood startled her.
The front door?
Had she forgotten to close it? Lock it? She’d spent far too many years in the city to not lock her doors, particularly at night. But the wound had been on her mind and, frankly, she’d still been half asleep. And maybe a little off her game from the wine.
Lara eased to the bathroom door and listened.
The tick-tock of the clock on the mantel in the living room was the only sound. She kept motionless and quiet for a bit longer before venturing into the small hall. Still no sound. The lamp by the sofa remained on, spilling a small golden glow over that portion of the room. The front door was closed.
“Pull yourself together, Lara.” She walked fully into the living room. Glanced onto the porch through the glass in the door. No shadows that shouldn’t be there. She checked the lock. In her haste to get to the bathroom she’d failed to lock it. Probably failed to close it as well when she came inside and the wind had done it for her—thus the slamming.
End of story.
Except she hadn’t really noticed any wind. Maybe a blast had passed through the trees that surrounded her cozy getaway.
Shaking off the worries, she locked the door and went in search of her cell phone. She’d left it in her office as she so often did. Phone in hand, she went to her bedroom and readied to call it a night. She shivered again. Falling asleep on the porch had chilled her to the bone. She shed her jeans and sweatshirt and pulled on her flannel pjs. Brushed her teeth and washed her face. Once she was deep under the covers, she would warm up soon enough. She plugged in her cell and snuggled into the layers of cotton and down.
The chime announcing the arrival of a new email forced her eyes open. Lara groaned. She generally silenced her computer when she walked out of her office for the night. Obviously, her cell wasn’t the only thing she’d forgotten tonight.
Like locking the door.
Heaving a breath of frustration, she threw back the covers that had only just started to warm her and climbed out of her bed. She padded to her office and sat down in front of the big screen that had awakened with the notification. If she didn’t silence it, she’d be roused dozens of times before morning. Some of her followers were in the UK and other countries where morning had just arrived.
Rather than simply silence the computer and go back to bed, she opened her email. She was sitting here, she might as well have a look. Her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d never go back to sleep.
Not another email from her fav FBI agent. The sender used the name “unsub.” Okay so he or she was either a true crime buff like Lara or a creep. She’d corresponded with plenty of both.
She opened the email.
Well, well, aren’t you the interesting little blogger. . .
“I got up for this?” Shaking her head, Lara deleted the email. Receiving all sorts of odd emails—the threats, the offers of marriage, etcetera—was the usual fare for her line of work. She’d gotten more than her share simply by virtue of her chosen passion. She put herself out there in the public eye. It was the nature of the beast. The more subscribers and viewers she attained, the higher the number of strange characters as well as increased revenue opportunities. She had to take the bad with the good.
The worst had been the one stalker who’d gone way beyond just haunting her online. She shook off the memory. Didn’t like to think about those days.
When she prepared to hit mute to ensure she wasn’t disturbed again tonight, another email popped up.
Unsub.
Lara rolled her eyes and opened the email.
I look forward to seeing more of you.
“So subscribe to my blog, creep.” She deleted the latest email and hit mute.
Lara went back to bed, burrowed deep into the covers and closed her eyes. She had a lot of catching up to do tomorrow. Her cupboards were bare. She needed to go to the market. There was delivery but if she didn’t force herself to get out of the house these days it didn’t happen often enough.
God. She rolled her eyes behind her closed lids. Maybe she was turning into her mother. She smiled. Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, just a slightly quieter one.
Her cell phone pinged with an incoming text.
“Are you kidding me?”
Maybe it was Nate. She rolled onto her side and fumbled on the night table, wrapped her fingers around the device and stared at the screen.
Sleep tight.
She frowned. Not from Nate.
She snatched the cord loose and pulled the screen closer. Unknown number.
Lara knew better than to take the bait.
She was an expert in this stuff.
And still, she tapped in: Who is this? Then hit send.
The response was almost instantaneous.
You’ll know soon enough.
She dropped the phone back onto the bedside table and groaned.
Well, hell. She had herself another potentially serious stalker.
She flopped onto her back once more and forced her eyes to close. Maybe this time she and Nate would actually meet in person to discuss the situation before the creep ended up at her door like last time.
Not long after she and Nate started communicating, Lara had googled him. Nate Decker was a few years older than her and very handsome. Divorced. No kids.
From time to time she’d actually been guilty of entertaining a few fantasies about him.
But she would never risk their “working” relationship by becoming involved in any way other than as friends. And she definitely would never, ever tell him about her forbidden thoughts.
Nope, he was far too important to her.
Fantasies were safe.
She thought about the stalker she’d had two years ago. Sometimes, though, fantasies turned to obsessions. She glanced at her phone. She did not need another obsessed fan. Her followers loved hearing about it but it was not fun for her. Not at all.
Last time she had lived in Manhattan which made her feel immensely vulnerable. With a sea of people all around her it was impossible to see trouble coming. But here, in small town Tennessee, it shouldn’t be so scary.
A stranger could be spotted a mile away.
Besides, she knew the county’s chief deputy and her neighbors—though none were close by. Chief Deputy Terrence—Terry to his friends—Wilson, a classmate of hers from high school, had checked in on her mother frequently over the years while Lara lived away. He was like that. A good guy. A good lawman. He loved his community and it showed. She would let Terry know there might be trouble. He would keep an eye out for her.
Lara forced the thoughts from her mind and focused on sleep. Maybe she wouldn’t hear from this unsub again. He or she could turn out to be some twelve-year-old kid who got off on pretending to be a stalker.
It happened.
But it was that unknown factor that always reminded her that it could be anyone, anywhere.
Worse, this might be the time she became an unfortunate statistic.
Chapter Three
Saturday, November 28, 8:30 a.m.
Lara lined out the phrase. Didn’t sound strong enough. She leaned back in her chair and surveyed the scattered pages on her desk. She did everything on some sort of electronic device. Didn’t everyone? A computer, phone, tablet. But editing she still preferred to do the old-fashioned way. She printed the pages and pulled out the red pencil.