Page 40 of Our Little Secret

Friend or foe?

Innocent or evil?

Of course she couldn’t tell.

But her heart stopped for a second and her fingers touched the lock on the door, making certain it was bolted.

Again Shep growled, brown fur at his nape standing on end.

The shadowy being stepped out of the light and disappeared.

There one second, gone the next.

She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat.

It’s nothing! Nothing. This is the city. There are homeless and night owls and night-shift workers whose hours are turned around and—

The dog remained at the door, nose to the panels, black lips curling slightly. A warning that something—no, someone—was out there.

And, she decided, it wasn’t someone good.

Heart knocking, she squinted as a car slowly passed, headlights glowing in the dark, flooding the road for a second as it passed. Then the street was empty. If not for the dog’s tense body and growl, she would have thought whoever was out there had left. They were safe here, the three of them in the locked house with the dog. And then, Neal had a gun, secured in a safe in his den, never needed, never used. She took in a deep breath, calming herself, then touched the dog’s head.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s go.” She snapped her fingers, and finally, Shep turned his attention to her and followed her as she quietly stole upstairs.

On the second floor Brooke checked on Marilee, silently opening her door to see that her daughter was burrowed under the covers, dark hair and one arm visible against the sheets.

Safe.

Good.

She didn’t object when the dog stole inside and hopped onto the bed, curling at the foot before looking up at Brooke expectantly. “Okay,” she whispered, “but just this once.” She shut the door.

Back in her bedroom, she slipped noiselessly between the sheets, careful not to wake Neal.

As her head found the pillow, she closed her eyes, intent on forcing sleep.

A few minutes ticked by and she heard a creak in the old timbers of the house. No big deal. It happened all the time. Nothing was wrong. A hundred-year-old house still settles, aging joists sometimes squeaking or groaning.

You’re letting your imagination run wild.

So someone was in the park in the early morning hours, so what?

It just so happens the park is directly across the street. Big effin’ deal.

Get over yourself.

She quieted her mind.

Consciously relaxed her tense muscles.

Started to drift off . . .

Footsteps!

As if someone were running!

Down the stairs!

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