The Suicide Club. Gayle Wilson
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hard questions,” he said. “Consider that one asked and answered. And I guess I owe you another apology.”
“Right now I’m more concerned with where we go from here.”
“For one thing we’ll add your address to the list of regular patrols the deputies are making. Ever think about installing a security system?”
“I’ve never had to think about it. Not here.”
He let her words rest between them without a response.
After a moment, she turned her head, looking at the door to his office. “I guess all that’s changed now, hasn’t it?”
“It changed with the first fire. Randolph isn’t immune to the kinds of things that happen in other places. Those burned churches were proof of that.”
“Do you still think they’ll do something else?” she asked, meeting his eyes again.
“To you? I’m going to do everything in my power to see they don’t. If this was a reaction to your being seen with me, then they may well be satisfied with their warning. You might indicate somehow that you got the message.”
“Indicate that to the kids?”
“You’re the one who said people talk. Let it be known that you’re not going to talk to the police anymore.”
“You think that will convince them to leave me alone?”
“That and a patrol of your neighborhood.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
“How will you know when that is?”
“When I know who they are.”
Jace had set up the patrol he’d promised, but despite that, he wasn’t comfortable with the situation. When Lindsey’s place was being searched, he had made sure there were no more unlocked windows and that the dead bolts were strong. All of which meant less than nothing if someone was determined to get in.
Which was why he was sitting in his car on the street behind her house. He was convinced that whoever had put the snake in Lindsey’s hamper had gotten in through that study window at the back. The front of the place was too exposed. You’d have to be an idiot to attempt a break-in there. And no matter what else he thought about the people involved in this, they were far from idiots.
He reached for the thermos he’d brought, pouring the last of the coffee into the plastic top. It was almost two. If these kids had parents who enforced curfews as he suspected, they wouldn’t be out at this time of night. He should go back to his apartment. Get some sleep like a human being for a change. Lack of rest wasn’t going to help him solve this case.
The kids had delivered their message. They were probably home in their beds, in that near-comatose state only teenage boys seemed able to achieve. And if he were smart—
He didn’t finish the thought. The same vague restlessness that had driven him to undertake this vigil wouldn’t let him abandon it. Call it cop’s intuition. Call it whatever the hell you wanted, something he needed to know about was going on.
He shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable. The change of position didn’t relieve the ache in his spine. That was better at some times than others, but obviously this wasn’t going to be one of them.
As he brought his cup up to his mouth, his gaze lifted to scan the back of Lindsey’s house. Before the rim made contact with his lips, he straightened, his eyes narrowing as he focused on a faint light that moved waveringly behind Lindsey’s curtained windows.
He watched for perhaps five more seconds, verifying his initial impression, before he opened his door. He threw the coffee on the street and then pitched the plastic cup back onto the passenger’s seat.
By the time he was standing, he’d drawn his weapon. He eased his door closed, not bothering to fully shut or lock it. And then, staying low and taking advantage of the abundant cover the heavily planted yards provided, he skirted between the houses of Lindsey’s neighbors and slipped into her backyard.
The wavering light he’d seen from his car had disappeared. Maybe Lindsey had been watching television in the dark again. Maybe she was having trouble sleeping, too. If so, she probably wouldn’t mind a little company.
Providing she didn’t already have some.
After hours spent tossing and turning, Lindsey had finally decided she’d be better off up doing something productive. She certainly had enough that needed doing.
She couldn’t bring herself to go into the office to work. Although she knew the window was now locked, there was something about sitting in that room that kept her mind off whatever she was trying to concentrate on.
She picked her tote up off the hall table where she’d put it in preparation for the morning. Its familiar weight didn’t ease the feeling that something in her world was very wrong.
She sat down on the couch, digging through the canvas bag for her American Lit anthology. Maybe trying to come up with enough essay questions for Monday’s tests and their makeups would carry her through to dawn. If it didn’t…
She took a breath, lifting her eyes from the book to fight an unexpected burn of tears. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry since she’d found the snake. She’d had a feeling that once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
As she blinked away the unwanted moisture, a shadow moved between the light from the streetlamp and her front windows. A chill began in the middle of her chest and then dropped like a rock into her stomach. Hardly daring to breathe, she laid the anthology down carefully on the coffee table and eased up off the couch, intending to call the police.
As she started toward the foyer, she realized that her cell was closer since, like her bag, she’d laid her purse on the hall table in preparation for tomorrow. She tiptoed across the room, bare feet making no sound. She slipped her phone out and flipped open the case. Her finger hovered for a few seconds over the nine before she lowered the cell.
She was calling the cops because she’d seen a shadow?
Something that could have been nothing more than a play of light? Or a tree moving in the wind? A bird or bat flying directly in front of the streetlamp?
All she needed right now was to be sending up false alarms for help. That would make the police less likely to respond quickly in case of a real emergency.
Phone in hand, she tiptoed over to the front door and put her eye against the peephole. A human shape was silhouetted against the glow from the street.
She reached out and located the switch for the porch fixture. If she turned it on, she knew whoever was out there would run—a result she wasn’t exactly opposed to. If she could get a glimpse of him before he did, all the better. Even size and build would give her something to work with. Decision made, she pushed the switch, flooding the porch with light.
Her recognition was instantaneous; her relief so great that she didn’t even stop to wonder what Jace was doing outside her door in the middle of the night. Fingers trembling from the flood of adrenaline, she undid the chain and then the other locks, throwing open the door.
“You okay?”
She nodded automatically, although she didn’t understand the question. Or why his gun was in his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought I saw a flashlight moving around inside.”
“A flashlight?”
“Something dim. Maybe in the back hall.”
Where her office, the bedroom and the bath were located. The hall she’d walked down not five minutes ago. “When?”
Jace shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe…four or five minutes ago.”