Had someone been twisting the knob from outside, trying to access her garage?
Her heart lodged in her throat. But she had to know, had to make sure she was safe, or she would never be able to sleep tonight.
She moistened her lips with her tongue. Lord, please keep me safe or stop me if I’m being unwise.
Rotating the small lock on the knob, she gripped the handle again and opened the door. She swung it wide, pushing it with her hand so it would hit the outside wall, ensuring no one hid behind it.
She held her breath, waiting for someone to jump in front of her.
But only cold wind greeted her, whisking inside and chilling her cheeks. Its swirling sound was all she heard, the black sky silent above the leafless trees of her neighbor’s yard.
She stepped to the doorway and leaned out, checking right and left.
Nothing but the white siding of her house greeted her. That and the matching snow on the ground that had fallen earlier that day, while she’d been at the police station.
And footprints.
Her heart rate sped up again.
But of course, there would be prints. Hank had entered through the side door to feed Max for her.
His feet were larger than average, a men’s sixteen shoe size. She knew, since she had been the one to buy each sequential shoe size for him as he’d grown rapidly during his teen years.
Indeed, some of the prints were massive.
But there were others. Smaller. An average men’s size.
She stared at the prints as her heart bumped into her ribs.
Their direction indicated the wearer of those unfamiliar shoes had come around the front of her house and walked directly up to the side door of the garage.
And if she and Max were correct, the man had then tried to enter her house.
Chapter
Eighteen
Victoria went to the counter in the kitchen and poured coffee into her thermos. Judging from the reflection she’d seen in her bathroom mirror as she prepared for work—droopy eyelids advertising her fatigue—she should allow herself a second cup of the caffeinated brew this morning. Barely shutting one’s eyes all night called for extreme measures, especially to ensure she was alert enough for her patients today.
Only a few days ago, her first reaction to someone prowling around her house, trying to enter, would have been to call the police. She still almost had last night, but she lived in Gealanden, the same suburb and jurisdiction as Thomas. Detective McCully could hear of it and think she had fabricated the sounds and footprints to make herself look like a target instead of the killer he suspected she was. He could have even shown up himself if she had called.
Ironically, the incident could be connected, though she wasn’t certain how. But it seemed entirely too implausible that a prowler outside her home, the threatening note, and being followed outside Treese’s studio could be unrelated to Thomas’s murder.
Then again, why would someone want to get into her home? To do her harm, as unpleasant as that idea was, seemed the most likely answer. Yet she wasn’t sure what the motive for an attack could be. She hadn’t seen the murderer when she’d found Thomas, though she had been the one to claim there was foul play. Would the killer want to silence her because of that?
No matter. She wasn’t going to stop her life out of fear. She glanced at her watch. Just enough time to put Max into his crate where he would be most comfortable while she was at work.
It would be a long day, given that she would have to fit the patients she hadn’t seen yesterday into today’s schedule. She trusted that Racquelle or whoever had phoned the patients to reschedule hadn’t cited her police interrogation as the reason. Victoria would stop at the office before seeing her first patient to confirm what had been said.
“Time to go in your condo, Max.” She called out the statement as she headed for her bedroom where he was probably lying on the floor near his crate. Or he could be in the crate already, since it made him feel safe.
The musical tones of her phone made her pause. She followed the sound back to the kitchen where she’d left the device in her purse. She pulled out the phone and checked the screen.
CareFull Home Health.
Odd. She wasn’t running late, and it was too early for Ginny to be calling with questions. Perhaps there had been a cancellation.
She pressed the phone to her ear. “Victoria Weston.”
