His gaze swept the kitchen, lingering for a moment on the mixing bowls and scattered chocolate chips before shifting toward the rest of the house. When he didn’t spot Evie, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Where is Evie?” he asked.
“In her room,” Laney answered. “She’s looking for the hair clip.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s possible the one we found was a duplicate. Something meant to scare me.” Her voice dropped a fraction. “If that was the intent, it worked.”
Harlan’s expression hardened. “There are faint boot prints in the dirt along the side yard,” he let them know. “Either of you make those?”
“No,” Carol and Laney said in unison, and that seemed to be the answer Harlan had expected.
“The tracks lead toward the back pasture fence,” he went on. “Whoever it was had a clear line of sight to the porch and the living room windows.”
A cold shiver slid through Laney’s chest, tightening her breath. Oh, God. That meant someone had been standing out there, watching them, watching her little girl. The thought made her stomach knot. Who was doing this, and why? She didn’t havean answer, but right now she needed to see Evie with her own eyes, just to assure herself that her little girl was safe.
Without a word, Laney turned and hurried toward the hallway. Harlan fell into step beside her, his stride steady, sure, and just as urgent as hers. Together, they headed for Evie’s bedroom.
The hallway to Evie’s room was narrow, the hardwood floor softened by a faded runner that had been there for as long as Laney could remember. Old family photos lined the walls, framed moments from generations past—sepia portraits of stern-faced ancestors, candid shots of her parents in their younger days, and pictures of Laney as a little girl with scraped knees and a gap-toothed smile.
Evie’s bedroom sat across from Laney’s at the end of the hall. The door was wide open, a bright spill of light stretching across the floorboards. Inside, Evie sat cross-legged on the rug, her dolls spread out around her in a half-finished tea party. Whatever concern she’d had about the missing hair clip was gone, replaced by giggles as she poured pretend tea into tiny cups.
Evie’s face lit up when she saw Harlan. “Uncle Harley!” she squealed, dropping a doll and racing across the room straight toward him.
Harlan crouched and caught her, scooping her up in his arms like he’d done countless times before. She wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
“You can have some tea,” she told him seriously, “and then we can get real cookies when we’re done.”
Laney was grateful for the moment. Evie’s bright eyes and easy smile meant she hadn’t picked up on the tension coiled tight in her mother’s chest.
Something on the windowsill caught Laney’s attention. She stepped past the tea set and dolls, her stomach knotting evenmore than it already was. The window was open just enough for a sliver of morning air to slip inside. Lying there, half-tucked against the frame, was a folded piece of paper.
Her fingers shook as she picked it up. She unfolded it and read the short, neat line.Thank you, Evie, for lending me your pretty pink hair clip.
Oh, God.
Laney’s pulse went into a gallop as the truth settled cold in her bones. Someone had been inside her house.
Someone had been in her daughter’s room.
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Chapter Four
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Harlan sat at the far end of the kitchen table, the chair angled just enough so the wide window behind Laney gave him a full view of the backyard. Beyond the glass, the fading light picked out the silver of the pasture fence and the darker line of trees beyond.
His gaze drifted there between bites of a chocolate chip cookie, tracking every flicker in the shadows. So far, the only movement had been from the pair of Palominos in the pasture, but with night closing in, it would be a good time for the intruder to try to make a return appearance.
Maybe not to just leave a note or take a picture or two this time.
And that was the reason Harlan was right here, ready for any shit this SOB might try to dole out.
To his right, Carol refilled Evie’s milk, the girl chattering about sleeping under a tent in the upstairs bedroom. Laney brushed crumbs from the table, her eyes lifting to the window now and then, same as his. The scent of the cookies hung in the air, but Harlan kept one hand on his mug and the other free, ready to push back his chair if something shifted outside.
Evie’s heels drummed lightly against the chair rung, and she tilted her head back to beam at him, chocolate glinting at the corner of her smile.
“I saved you a spot in the tent, Uncle Harley,” she said, voice bubbling with the kind of excitement that left no room for worry.
But there was worry. Well, for everyone in the room except Evie. The little girl didn’t know that the camping adventure was a security measure, one that would get Evie off the ground floor and up the stairs where it would be harder for someone to try to get to her.
