Alone in the Dark. Marie Ferrarella
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a crush on Brady that was evident to everyone but the man himself. Shirley was going to regret not being here a tad early this morning.
Patience turned to look back at Brady and mouthed, “Thank you” before she disappeared.
She could thank him all she wanted, Brady thought as he exited the clinic. In reality, he hadn’t done anything. Doing something was up to her. He unlocked his car. The hell with it, this was her business, not his.
Holding the door open, he gave King a nod. The dog jumped into the back seat.
“Not our concern, boy,” Brady said as he got behind the steering wheel.
He placed his key in the ignition. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, he could see King staring at him. Brady tried not to read anything into the intent brown eyes, but the dog seemed to be saying that he was wrong, that she was their concern. Because they knew her.
Brady sighed. King always had a way of setting him straight. But this time, the dog was wrong. Couldn’t help someone who wouldn’t help themselves. He’d learned that a long time ago.
It had been one hell of a long day from start to finish. A bad night’s sleep didn’t help matters. Not that he ever really got a good night’s sleep. His sleep pattern would have sent any self-respecting hospital-affiliated sleep clinic into a tailspin. He amassed his sleep in snatches, never getting more than a couple hours at a clip, usually less. Each night turned into a patchwork quilt of sleep and wakefulness.
The trouble was that he couldn’t shut off his mind, couldn’t find peace even in repose. Half the time he dreamed of what he had experienced during the course of the day or, more than likely, during his earlier years.
He supposed, in comparison to that time period, anything he experienced now was a cakewalk, even if he did deal with the scum of the earth at times. At least he had the consolation of knowing that he was ridding the world of vermin, making it safer for people in Aurora, people like Patience Cavanaugh, to sleep at night.
Contributing to the restlessness he now felt was the fact that Dr. Patience Cavanaugh hadn’t been off his mind for more than thirty minutes at a stretch. Usually less. He just wasn’t comfortable about her lack of action with this stalker thing.
The first free minute he’d had, he’d deliberately investigated if any new stalker complaints had been filed today. They hadn’t. Big surprise. Maybe she’d turned to someone in her family with the problem. No, he had a bead on her. For all her friendliness, all her vibrancy, Patience Cavanaugh was stubborn and independent like the rest of the Cavanaughs. That meant that she didn’t relish appearing as if she were vulnerable, as if she couldn’t take care of whatever was going on in her life all by herself.
“Still not our problem,” he told the dog that went home with him every night.
King gave him the same penetrating look he’d given him that morning.
Brady sighed. Who the hell did he think he was fooling? “Yeah, right, we’re police officers. That makes everything our problem.”
Muttering something ripe and piercing under his breath, he started up the lovingly restored Mustang that served as his single private mode of transportation from the time he had left Georgia behind in his rearview mirror. The only original thing left of the cherry-red car was its outer shell. Everything beneath the hood was new, or at least had been replaced once if not twice. The vehicle was in prime running condition. He made sure to keep it that way. Working on cars helped soothe him whenever he felt particularly agitated.
Brady paused before pulling out of the lot. He knew he should go home, maybe tune up his engine to work the frustration out of his system.
Instead he turned his car in the opposite direction and headed back to the animal clinic.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, we’re not going home. At least not yet.” He glanced at the dog in the mirror. “Don’t give me that look. She’s a tax-paying citizen. Those are the ones we’re supposed to protect, remember?” King’s face remained impassive. “I just want to check up on her, make sure everything’s all right. Something happens to her, the department’s gotta find a new vet. Which means that you’ve got to get used to someone else poking at you. You want that?”
King continued to stare at him.
“I didn’t think so.” Brady took a sharp right. The open stretch of road in front of him invited him to go faster. He did.
Fifteen minutes later he eased his car to a stop, parking across the street from the animal clinic, which was attached to Patience’s home. After tossing the dog a large treat, Brady looked out at the two-story building. Except for the one just above the front entrance, the lights within the clinic had long since been extinguished.
The lights inside her home, however, had not. She was home. Most likely alone.
Brady settled in.
Chapter 3
Patience pushed back the curtain.
There it was again.
The car parked directly across the street from her home had been sitting there for a while now. Ordinarily she might not have even noticed it, except that for once, there were no other cars parked along the street. The neighbor who had a hundred and one excuses to throw a party was off traveling in Europe somewhere. According to the neighborhood gossip, he wasn’t due back for another three weeks.
Everyone else around her parked their cars either in the garage or in their driveway. Which made this particular vehicle stick out. Even if it hadn’t been red, which it was.
Walter owned a beige sedan. Beige, like his personality. Had the man bought a new car?
Her palms felt damp. Why did anxiety always crowd in the moment sunlight left?
Her mind was working overtime. She had to stop doing this to herself. So there was a strange car parked across the street from her house, so what? There were a hundred reasons for it being there.
She could think of only one.
She’d noticed the parked vehicle as she’d walked by her family room window. Ten minutes later, she was drawn back to the window. And again. Each time she looked, she could feel something in her chest tighten just a little more.
Get a grip.
She worked the curtain fabric through her fingers, staring at the vehicle. Telling herself that memories of her father’s case were making her overreact. Walter hadn’t hurt her last time. Why would he this time? Patience didn’t know for sure that the flower had come from Walter. But it had begun the last time with a single rose. Just because Walter had sent it, didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t send her a flower for a completely innocent reason.
There could be all sorts of explanations for that flower. It could have even come from a new real estate agent trying to make an impression. Realtors were always doing strange things like that, giving you pads, newsletters, flags. Why not roses?
Okay, so where was his flyer? Flying off somewhere? She watched a bunch of leaves chase each other at the curb where she’d swept them. Gusts of wind had been blowing all afternoon. Fall was settling in.
Stop it, Patience, you’re making yourself crazy. Just wait and see what happens next.
That was what she’d told herself earlier this evening—just before she’d spotted the car. Patience chewed on her bottom lip. Did the car belong to Walter? She didn’t know. No, she wasn’t going to break down, wasn’t going to be the spooked female, was not going to let her imagination run away with her. She could handle this. At the very least, she had to be sure if it was Walter or just a car someone had innocently parked near her house.
Summoning her courage, Patience looked out a third time. And saw the vague outline of a dog in the back seat. The relief she felt was massive. It wasn’t Walter’s car. Walter was terrified of dogs. Each time he had come into the clinic, he made sure to steer clear of any canine patients