Someone was in her house. A man. A man who sounded… enraged. No. Tormented? She couldn’t tell. But the intensity of the emotion was clear.
Was ithim?
She rose quietly to her feet, wincing as the chair legs scraped along the tiles. Had he heard her move? Thank God she’d chosen to work in the kitchen—just a few steps from the back door.
She grabbed her phone, tucked it into her pocket, and then crept toward the door, keeping her movements stealthy and silent.
Fear and worry churned through her mind. What if it was him? Should she try to look? No. Absolutely not. Every too-dumb-to-live decision started with checking on a strange noise. She should get out.
Even if it was him.Especiallyif it was him.
The back garden was surrounded by sheltering trees. She could hide. Or run. She could call the police. All she had to do was make it outside, through the vegetable garden, across the lawn, and out to the woods.
She held her breath as she flicked the lock and then slowly turned the handle, praying that it didn’t squeak. It opened silently. She was almost there. But then she froze. What about Nissy? God. Ellie had opened the living room door to the deck for her an hour ago. Was she still outside? What if she came in? Would he hurt her?
Ellie couldn’t leave without her. She hesitated, racked with uncertainty.
And then she heard it. A low, strangled noise. A noise that sounded like despair. Like unadulterated grief, quickly stifled.
No. That was ridiculous. That rough moan could just as easily mean he was furious. It wasn’t safe for her there. She had to get out, circle around the outside and look for Nissy. She could call the police while she did it.
She pushed the door open and snuck onto the first low concrete step. She was almost there. Almost free. But before she could move, she heard him.
“Please.” His voice was guttural. Hoarse, even. As if he hadn’t spoken in hours. But it held her.
She spun back, drawn to the sound. There, standing in the entrance to the kitchen, was the man from yesterday. Itwashim.
She almost stepped toward him, almost got drawn in, but she forced herself to stay away.
She grabbed the door, ready to slam it shut between them and run, but he did the last thing she expected. He stepped back—away from her—his arms coming up, palms open, and she stopped once more.
“Please don’t,” he repeated.
“Don’t what?” she whispered, standing on the concrete step with the door handle gripped in her sweating fist.
He held out his hand. “Please don’t leave me.” He cleared his throat, blinking as if he’d surprised himself. As if he’d said more than he intended. “Please stay.”
Something about the words gripped her. She had heard them before. They meant something to her. To them. They bound them together somehow. Although she had no idea how. A chill drifted over her skin; the breeze raising the hairs on her arms.
She stayed there, just outside the door, watching him, telling herself she could still run. Telling herself she could slam the door and be gone in an instant if she needed to.
He was wearing a plain black T-shirt that highlighted the tanned bulk of his arms and the lines of ink that traveled up his right bicep to disappear under the fabric. His jeans were worn and faded, clinging to the bulk of his thighs. His hair was even more tangled and his beard thicker today, as if he still hadn’t bothered to shave. He was taller than her. A heavy, muscular man. She should have been frightened.
She swallowed. Honestly, she was frightened. But she should have beenmorefrightened.
She stood, captured in the doorway, adrenaline pumping through her veins in heavy beats. “Why are you in my house?”
He stared at her, lips drawn into a tight line. But he didn’t answer.
“I don’t have anything of value here,” she insisted.
He stepped back, another big step, almost taking him out of sight, shocked offense flashing across his face before he blanked it once more. “I’m not here to rob you.”
“Why are you here then?”
“I don’t know. I can’t—” He shook his head slowly.
Ellie pulled out her phone, holding it between them. As if it would protect her somehow. “I’ll call the police.”
