Page 40 of Legacy of Lies
Chapter 10
Stupid move, coming here.
Gravel popped under the tires as Garrison parked his truck a hundred feet up the street from Sara’s small, one-story bungalow. One advantage to living in a place like Copper River? Easy to find out where people lived. Tonight’s data on Sara’s house location came courtesy of Shelby and her excellent memory for town gossip.
Disadvantage? Everyone would know about this visit before he got back home.
He threw his hat on the front seat and pushed the truck door closed. Hesitating next to the vehicle, he peered a few houses down to Sara’s home. Stars twinkled in the cloudless sky. Maybe 8:00 p.m. had been too late to come calling.
A yellow glow from Sara’s living room window crept out into the cold, clear night air, like a beacon drawing him to a sanctuary.
When he took a few steps closer, he stopped in his tracks. He shouldn’t be here. His mouthy brother had been right: Garrisonhadturned into a stalker.
But, son of a bitch, he wanted to make sure he hadn’t upset Sara. Had he moved too quickly when he kissed her last night? Or had he become so starved for female attention that the first polite and eligible woman he met had him instantly whipped? Same leash, different master. What a joke.
What about the idea that she could keep an eye on Zach? Not to protect his son from bullies, but to be on alert for any emerging powers. If Garrison could get close to Sara, she could provide the objective assessment needed.
So, what, now he was a stalker who wanted to use her for his personal gain?
Pretty much.
An ethical man would turn around and leave. A smart man wouldn’t have come here in the first place.
Didn’t matter. Even if he was relationship challenged, after the bizarre conversation with twitchy Hank Brand today, Garrison had to make sure Sara was okay. Once he completed that task, if she didn’t want to see him again, he’d respect her wishes and leave her alone.
A high, tinkling crash stopped him in his tracks. Glass? The cold, clear air made it easy to get a direction.
Sara’s house.
As he rounded the mailbox in a dead run to the porch, a deep engine rumble emanated from the alley behind her house, followed by a clatter of what sounded like gravel beneath spinning tires. The sound of a vehicle faded into the night.
Then silence.
Sara.
The blood froze in his veins.
He reached her front door in two steps and pounded on the door.
“Sara? It’s Garrison. Are you in there? Are you all right?”
A small yelp was followed by a thud.
He rattled the door handle. Locked. Shit.
Air caught in his chest as he strained to listen.
“Sara,” he called again.
A distant voice came through the door. “Just a minute.”
What the hell?
“Who is it?” came her muffled voice, louder now.
Her voice. Thank God. He sagged into the doorframe, but he jumped back when the porch light came on.
The door opened a few inches, revealing her bloodless face and wide eyes. “What are you doing here?”
