Page 62 of Secret Stalker

She swung her legs over the side of the couch and stood, expecting to see him standing on the other side of the island, maybe grabbing a couple of beers out of the refrigerator.

“Max?” She squinted in the dark. “Where are you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Max?”

She felt her way through the house, checking the three bedrooms, yanking blinds open so the moonlight and lightning would help her see. One of the bedrooms was set up like an office. But she didn’t find any sign of him. Worry began to coil in her stomach. She tried a light switch, but the house remained dark. The power was still out. Maybe he was in the garage, checking the fuses. Yes, that made sense. That’s what she’d do if the power was out.

She hurried through the family room to the left side of the house, which boasted a powder room, a laundry room and a three-car garage. Lightning flashing through the glass panes in the garage door showed her that he had a Jeep parked inside. But there was no Max to be seen. Where else could he be?

Real fear began to gnaw at her. She ran back into the family room, turning in a wide circle.

“Max, where are you? This isn’t funny. Max?”

Again, nothing.

Had he gone outside in this wretched storm? She couldn’t think of any reason for him to do that. But maybe he liked watching the rain. Her mom always had. Yes, that was it. There was an enormous wraparound porch on the front and sides of the house. She ran to the door and jerked it open. The front porch was empty, except for some man-size rocking chairs on either end.

“Max,” she yelled out into the yard. “Where are you?” The wind seemed to capture her words and snatch them away.

His truck remained parked just a few feet from the steps. Empty.

Panic had her fairly flying through the house again, checking every room, every closet, even looking beneath beds. Finally she stopped in the middle of his bedroom. She had to acknowledge what she’d been trying to avoid all along. He was gone. Something must have happened to him.

She couldn’t fathom what that might be. All she was sure of was that he must be in danger. And she needed help to find him. She ran back into the main room and grabbed her purse to get her phone. But her phone wasn’t there. She frowned. Had she left her phone at her mother’s house? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it.

A landline. There had to be a landline in the house somewhere. No, she hadn’t seen any phones either time she’d run through the house. What was she supposed to do now? Lightning lit up the back wall of windows again, illuminating the back deck. Could he be out there? It was the only place she hadn’t looked.

She ran to the sliding door. The storm was getting worse, blowing rain in great sheets. She peered out at the darkness.

Thunder boomed overhead, and a brilliant flash of lightning lit up the deck before plunging everything into darkness. Wait, something was off. What had she seen? She leaned forward, peering in the moonlight. Part of the deck seemed charred. From the lightning? It flashed again, and she let out a startled scream. There was a large handprint on the glass. And it was covered in blood.

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