TWENTY-SEVEN
W
illow snapped awake when Rufus let out a low growl from the foot of her bed.It was still dark, but he was staring intently across the room, ears pricked, body stiff.
She sighed and reached out a hand to soothe him.“Shush.”
The bedside clock read just after one in the morning.It was probably Tripp moving around somewhere in the house.
But Rufus hopped off the bed and slowly stalked toward the door with that same tense posture, head lowered slightly.He let out another low growl.
“Rufus, no,” she whispered.“You’ll wake Tripp up.”
The dog paid no attention to her whatsoever, poised in front of the door like something was waiting for him on the other side.
Her skin prickled with unease.She got up, grabbed him by the collar and quietly eased the door open.Rufus tried to dart forward, but she held him back.
The house was still and dark.
The guestroom door opened.Rufus jumped a bit when Tripp stepped out but then went back to staring toward the kitchen, his posture still eerily tense.
“Everything okay?”Tripp said quietly.
“I don’t know.He hears something.”She relaxed her grip slightly to give Rufus a little slack, allowed him to pull her toward the kitchen, where he growled again and froze facing the French doors leading out to the back porch.
She didn’t see anything alarming.
“Should I let him out?”Could be just a raccoon back there.
But it could also be something way worse.
Tripp was sliding his shoes on.“Sure.”
All right.Here went nothing.
She unlocked and pushed the right door open, releasing her hold on the collar.Rufus shot through it like a bullet, sprinting straight for the fence.
Willow flipped on the back porch light, a gasp sticking in her throat when she saw someone in dark clothes disappear over the top of the fence.
Rufus leaped up, missing the intruder by milliseconds, barking his head off.
“Stay here.”Tripp rushed past her out into the darkness.
