Page 46 of Scorched

Only a block over from Elise’s little cottage, Paul found himself headed her way first. As soon as he turned west, the wind thrust against him, penetrating the single layer of his T-shirt and chilling his skin. He picked up the pace, passing the front of her house, pushing hard to encourage his body to warm quickly.

From the outside, all was peaceful, inside a frightenedwoman was probably pacing the floor, wondering where the killer would strike next.

He lengthened his stride, passing half a dozen little houses. At the next street, he turned left and made another left on the street running parallel to Highland.

He wanted to see the house behind hers. With all the brush and overgrown hedges, he’d only glimpsed the rooftop. If the house was anything like the hedges, it would probably be run down and in need of work.

The opposite was the case. The house behind Elise’s was a single-story dwelling spread out over the lot. The yard and garden in front were well-maintained and neatly kempt. Whoever took care of the front yard obviously didn’t have a hand in the care of the backyard. Two rockers sat on the front porch, rocking gently in the wind.

Paul slowed to a stop beneath the heavy limbs of a bare native pecan tree and stared into the shadowy backyard.

Luke had stood at his back fence, calling through the hedges to someone on this side. But who? Paul made a note to introduce himself to this neighbor.

As he studied the house, he didn’t get any idea about its occupants from its neat appearance. If anything, he’d guess a little old lady lived there who liked to sit on the porch and rock during the warmer weather. But then, who was the guy Luke referred to as George? A little boy?

Paul saw no signs of a little boy. No toys or swing set in the yard, no bicycle propped against the house. He moved toward the backyard, careful to be quiet and not disturb the occupants. He didn’t need to scare an old woman into a heart attack, thinking she had a peeping tom. As he peered into the darkness of the backyard, ancient live oaks and native pecan trees cast impenetrable, inky shadows.

Paul squinted, his eyes struggling to adjust to the limited light of the dark yard beyond. Hunkering low and keeping away from the few beams of light cast across the grass by the streetlight out front, he moved toward the side of the house, blending with the bushes lining the boundary.

Movement caught the corner of his eye. It wasn’t in the backyard of this house but in Elise’s.

Adrenaline spiked in Paul’s veins, shooting through his muscles, warming them from the inside out. He ran for the back row of overgrown bushes and hedges. The more he pushed and shoved, the more he realized he wasn’t getting through them and had to go around.

Angry at having wasted even a minute trying to push through, Paul sprinted back around the line of bushes to close on Elise’s house. The shadow had disappeared by the time he got there.

A vehicle engine revved in the distance. Paul raced out to the pavement in time to see brake lights flash before they disappeared around a dark corner. The driver hadn’t bothered to turn on the car’s exterior lights, no headlights or taillights. What fool would drivearound in the dark without their lights on? Someone bent on stirring up trouble. Someone who didn’t want to get caught.

Paul ran full out, arriving at the corner in time to see...nothing.

The vehicle had completely vanished.

Breathing hard from the sprint and the anger surging through his body, Paul gave up on his run and hurried back to his truck. If nothing else, having the truck in Elise’s driveway should ward off unwanted visits.

Paul pulled up in the driveway and shut off the engine. No sooner had he climbed down from the cab than the blinds flickered in the window.

Before he rounded the truck, the front door opened. Elise stood in the hazy glow of the front porch light, her hair whipped by the wind and shining a golden blur around her head. Her tired smile made his heart flip over and then ram against his chest.

Paul hurried toward her, wanting to pull her into his arms and hold her there until all the bad things stopped. Elise started to take a step, stopped and stared down at something on the front stoop.

Her eyes widened and she froze.

Halfway to her, Paul wondered what she was staring at. His heartbeat kicked up a notch and he rushed forward. “Elise?”

She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Who is doing this to me?”

On the ground at her feet was a fashion doll with golden blond hair like Elise’s, wearing a blue skirt and white blouse like she’d worn earlier that day. What sent cold chills down Paul’s spine was the Ethernet cable tied around the doll’s neck.

He opened his arms, and she fell into them, sobbing against his chest. Leaving the doll on the stoop, Paul lifted Elise into his arms and carried her across the threshold into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He set her on her feet and turned to twist the shiny new deadbolt lock, one arm still around her waist, holding her against him.

Elise pressed her face into his T-shirt, her fingers bunching the material in her grip. “Why?” she sobbed quietly.

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. You are not going to be next on any killer’s list.”

“I can’t die.” She laid her cheek against his chest, sniffing loudly. “What would Brandon and Luke do? They only have one parent.”

The warmth of her tears soaking his shirt made him want to shield her from the terror of the day. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to see Brandon and Luke grow up. You’ll have the pleasure of suffering when they go through puberty. You’ll sprout a few gray hairs, teaching them to drive.” Paul stroked the back of her hair, wishing he could be there when she got those gray hairs. He bet she’d be just as beautiful as she was today.

She chuckled. “Oh, please, you’re not helping.”

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