She made it to the driveway when a familiar brown and white car pulled to the curb and stopped. She sighed, recognizing the constable who exited the car and headed her way. He could have only one reason to stop at her home.
“Morning, Darby.” He approached the house, an envelope in his hands. “Looks like you’ve got another court summons.”
“That makes four in the past six months.” She took the envelope he handed to her. Brent’s constant legal petitions had gotten old, and she hoped the judge would throw this one out just as he had the others. The bills from the divorce continued mounting, and her ex still tried to drag her through the courts for more money.
Ironic, since his gambling had nearly bankrupted them to begin with.
With Darby’s housecleaning business struggling, she’d taken on the extra work of boarding and training dogs just to keep thebills paid. Including the large mortgage Brent had saddled her with.
She still had the inheritance her grandmother had left her. But she hesitated to spend it unless absolutely necessary, since her uncle Grant Rushton was suing her for her portion of the money he thought was his. Although her grandmother’s lawyer had assured Darby the money was hers, she was still wary.
Grandma’s death had finally convinced Darby to reclaim her life. She couldn’t keep putting herself and David through the ongoing drama of watching Brent hit bottom.
She opened the summons. To her surprise, it wasn’t from her ex. It was a notice of legal action by Suzanne Crompton, a former employee Darby had to fire last year. She was suing Darby for wrongful termination.
Tears pressed against her eyes, the frustration almost more than she could stand. Who wouldn’t have fired Suzanne after catching her stealing from her clients? Darby had her on video, digging through the homeowner’s jewelry boxes. Then, to retaliate, Suzanne had the audacity to harass Darby and do everything in her power to undermine her and her business over the past year. Now, she’d filed suit too?
Between Suzanne, Brent, and Uncle Grant, she had nearly more than she could stand.
She thanked the constable, who was only doing his job. But something caught her attention as she watched him walk back to his car. A dark-gray pickup had parked down the street, a single figure behind the wheel.
She’d seen the truck earlier and hadn’t paid it much attention. But now…well, it hadn’t moved and the driver watched her house. Darby couldn’t help the uneasy feeling flitting through her at the idea of someone watching her.
She lifted the crate and carried it to the garage, entering the house through the mud room. Inside, she glanced at the truckthrough the door glass then turned the lock and lowered the garage door.
As it rumbled shut, she moved through the kitchen to the front of the house. Peeking through the curtain in the living room, she noticed the truck hadn’t moved. Neither had its driver. Her phone rang as she contemplated calling the police.
She glanced at the number and cringed. Her neighbor, Mrs. Buford, never phoned except to complain about the dogs barking. Was the extra cash worth her neighbor’s constant complaining?
“Hello, Mrs. Buford.”
“Darby, I’m trying to watch my morning preacher. But those dogs of yours are making such a racket, I can’t hear him. Can’t you do something to calm them down?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, doing her best to keep from snapping at the woman. Darby had just been outside and hadn’t noticed the dogs barking, and she didn’t hear them now. “When was this? I was just outside and didn’t hear them.”
“Well, I heard them earlier this morning, while I sat on my back patio. I don’t want to file another complaint with the city. But if I have to, I will.”
They’d been through this spiel five times since Darby had assembled the kennel in her backyard near the fence line. She should have known better. “I’m trying to find someone to help me move the kennel, Mrs. Buford. I can’t do it myself.” Her neighbor was the epitome of the nosiness, watching everything going on in the area and complaining about most of it.
Again, Darby glanced through the curtain at the pickup. “Mrs. Buford, have you noticed that gray truck parked on the curb a few houses down? A man is sitting inside it, and it’s been there all morning. I think he’s watching the house.”
Another vehicle slowed and turned into the driveway. A white van markedMerrick Cleaning Suppliespulled up.
Right. The supplier for her housecleaning business. Her shipment of cleansers, mops, and paper goods had finally arrived.
“Never mind. I’ll talk to you later.” Darby ended the call.
She rushed to the back door and opened the garage door as usual, so she could put the delivery straight into the garage closet with the rest of her supplies. Two men climbed out, wearing familiar blue uniforms.
Something felt off.
These men were not her regular delivery guys. The bigger man’s uniform looked a size too small. The other wore a name tag readingCarter.
He wasn’t the Carter she knew.
Her gaze dropped. Caught the glint of something under one man’s jacket.
A gun.