Chapter 9
Lila
Rain poured down in a steady mist, blurring the faint glow of the few streetlights we had as I made my way up the sidewalk toward my cottage.
My feet dragged after twelve hours at the shop.
My shoulders ached from carrying books, smiling too long, and answering the same questions from customers with the same bright tone.
By the time I turned the corner toward my street, all I wanted was a hot shower, a blanket, and maybe a mindless movie.
The little wooden cottage appeared, tucked between overgrown rhododendrons and my neighbor’s sprawling hydrangeas.
Built in the thirties, it had once been my grandmother’s pride.
Soft blue paint that still matched the original paint tint.
Grams was firm that it stay the same, and I wouldn’t change it.
A single porch light usually glowed to greet me home, but tonight it was dark.
I frowned.
Shifting the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder, I reminded myself not to be ridiculous.
Bulbs burned out. Switches flipped. Rain messed with power lines.
I would have known if we had a power outage.
Still, there were a dozen other logical explanations that existed, but my stomach tightened as I crossed the short walkway through the dripping yard.
After the incident the other day, my nerves were shot.
I jammed my key in the lock, twisting with practiced force. It clicked open with its usual resistance, the old wood swollen from the damp.
Inside, the air felt wrong.
It was colder than usual, carrying a faint sharpness that raised the hairs on my arms. I flipped the switch by the door. Either the storm had knocked the power out or…
Dropping my bag onto the bench, I stepped inside and toed off my damp shoes.
My eyes adjusted slowly, catching the faint outline of my grandmother’s worn armchair, the bookshelf my grandfather had built with his own hands, the afghan draped neatly across the couch.
Except it wasn’t neat anymore. The afghan lay on the floor, tangled like someone had yanked it down in a hurry.
My chest squeezed tight.
I reached for my phone, fumbling for the flashlight. The beam cut across the room, harsh and revealing. My heart thudded against my ribs as the light landed on toppled picture frames scattered across the rug. The coffee table had been shoved sideways.
Someone had been here.
Teenagers, I told myself. Probably stupid kids messing around. Except stupid kids didn’t break into tidy little cottages and leave drawers open, belongings spilled. The flashlight beam swept toward the kitchen. A cabinet door hung open.
My pulse raced.
I should turn and run. Should call Wade at the station or at least go across to Sage’s. Instead, I took another step, then another.
“Hello?” I called out into the darkness.
The hallway stretched long and narrow, the hardwood creaking beneath my steps. Rain pattered against the windows, steady as a ticking clock. I reached the doorway to my bedroom and froze.
A shadow moved.
Before I could even scream, a figure burst out of the room, colliding with me hard enough to slam my back against the wall. The impact rattled my teeth and knocked the phone from my hand. The flashlight spun across the floor, beam swinging wildly until it landed crooked against the baseboards.
“You need to leave. This should all be mine.” His voice was low, rough. His hand clamped my shoulder, pinning me as he shoved harder. My lungs seized.
“I—”
The strike came fast—a backhand across my cheek. Pain exploded hot and sharp, jerking my head sideways. My palm flew up instinctively, cradling the sting.
Fear screamed in my chest. I’d made mistakes with men before. I’d convinced myself I could handle them, that I could smooth over their tempers, that I could laugh away the moments when my gut told me to run. This man’s fury smelled the same.
His breath was sour. His eyes glinted meanly in the stray light. He wasn’t drunk. He was deliberate.
“I don’t know what you want.” I tried to reason while everything inside me screamed to escape. I tried to pull away from him as much as he held onto me, his fingers digging into my flesh. “If you just tell me what you’re looking for …” My voice cracked as I tried to twist free.
He shoved me harder, my shoulder blade screaming against the plaster. “Don’t play stupid, you bitch.”
I wanted to fight, but panic clouded everything.
My knees trembled. His face was shadowed, but I couldn’t see anything familiar about him that would give me any indication that I knew him.
Was he the same man from the bar? I just wasn’t sure.
This was the sort of thing that I would have expected from my ex.
Ransacking my house in the middle of the night wouldn’t be totally out of the realm of possibility, but it definitely wasn’t him.
Just as I’d tried to respond, a voice cut sharply through the night. “Lila? Are you home? Is your power out?”
Sage. I nearly cried with relief. I still might. Thank God for good friends and neighbors who looked out for each other.
A second later, a flashlight flickered through the living room, the beam just reaching the hallway where I was pressed against the wall. “Oh my God. Lila! Someone broke in? Lila, are you in here?”
I whimpered as the man cursed under his breath, the sound ugly and frantic. His grip loosened.
“I’ve called the police!” Sage’s voice carried strong and steady, braver than I could ever sound right then. “They’re on their way if someone is in here. Lila!”
The intruder’s hand fell away. He shoved me once more, hard enough that I stumbled, before bolting past toward the back door. It banged open, a rush of rain and wind flooding in before slamming shut.
My knees buckled. I caught the wall, breathing ragged.
“Lila?” Sage’s voice came closer, hurried now, her garden clogs sounding against the floorboards. She appeared in the hall, her auburn hair damp from the rain, her phone in her hand. Her eyes widened when she saw me slumped against the wall, cheek flaming, chest heaving.
“Oh shit.” Her face crumpled. Sage was more tender-hearted than most, and I loved that about her.
“I’m fine.” The lie came out weakly. “I swear.”
“No, you’re not.” She was already at my side, steady hands gripping my arms. “Sit. Here.” She guided me toward the couch, the afghan still crumpled on the floor. I let her steer me because my legs wouldn’t work properly.
Tears prickled my eyes, but they refused to fall.
I needed to pull myself together first so I could understand exactly what had happened.
I was pretty sure that Sage had called her brother or, at the very least, the police.
Someone would be here asking questions, so I wanted to provide them with as much information as possible.
Sage crouched in front of me, scanning my face. “I heard someone. I called my brothers.”
My skin throbbed where his hand had landed.
“I’m not sure why they were here. I don’t have anything.
” I felt numb. “I’m fine.” I probably said that already, but it was more to reassure myself.
“Thanks for coming over. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t.
” Just the thought scared the daylights out of me.
She gripped my hand in hers. “I wasn’t sure why your lights were off. It was weird. Nobody else’s were, and the door was open.”
“You’re the best bestie ever. Free cookies for life.” I leaned back against the cushions. Sage already got free cookies, just like I got free flowers. We had a quid-pro-quo-bestie relationship.
She huffed a little laugh as the sound of a siren grew in the distance, slicing through the rain. Relief warred with humiliation. The whole town would know by morning. They would know that someone had broken into my house. They would know I had been pushed around like a rag doll.
Again. Just like with Derek. I sighed. The gossip mill would be strong on this one.
Sage squeezed my hand. “It’ll be fine.”
I wanted to believe her.
But my chest still held the echo of his shove, the burn of his palm, the demand in his voice. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. There wasn’t much of material value that I had.
The wail of the siren cut closer, then stopped right outside. Red and blue lights flickered through the rain-smeared windows, painting my living room in jolts of color.
Sage stayed kneeling by me until the knock came. She rose quickly, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead, and went to the door. My pulse hammered as I listened to the murmur of voices, the heavy tread of boots across the porch.
Then Wade Holt stepped in. His uniform was darkened by rain, his expression tight and sharp. His gaze swept the room in a quick, practiced scan before locking on me. His mouth hardened.
“You alright?” His voice was clipped, official, but his eyes softened when they landed on my cheek.
“I’m fine.” I forced my chin up.
Sage shot me a glare that told me that I’d better stop lying right this instant, or I’d have to answer to her. “She’s not fine. Someone broke into her house. Look at it.” She waved a hand over the wreckage. “Can I take her to my place?”
“In a minute.” Wade crouched by the coffee table where a lamp had been knocked over, his gloved hand steadying it upright. “Did you recognize the person?”
“No.” I scrunched my eyes shut, trying to visualize him. “I’d never seen him before. It was dark, and the hallway doesn’t get much moonlight, but he was probably a little over six feet. He was heavier set, strong, and older. Sorry, that isn’t much to go on.”
“He was gone by the time I got here.” Sage shrugged. “I called out when I came in the door, so I didn’t get a look at him. Must have gone out the back.”
“But he knew there was a back …” Wade trailed off, obviously thinking. “I’ll take a look and see if we can find any fingerprints in this damp. The rain might cause us problems.”