Chapter 23 #2
She hurried down the steps in my direction, meeting me in the home’s center.
I took her hand and moved through the house with practiced precision, slapping off overhead lights and staying away from the windows, thankful the curtains were drawn.
“What happened?” she asked. “Birds? Wildlife?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I palmed my phone and checked the security app. The cameras were on. The blasted halo of light through the back yard created a surreal visual against the black waters.
Sloane breathed easier, looking at the screen with me. “Nothing?”
“Maybe.” It was possible that an animal running lengthwise across the property might’ve set off all the sensors, but I couldn’t accept that without an assessment. And given our circumstances, I doubted anything was that simple.
We moved through the first floor together, keeping a careful watch on all windows and doors. I glanced at the camera feed as I moved, watching the waving seagrass for signs of anything nefarious or concerning.
Everything looked normal. But my gut said otherwise.
“Look,” Sloane whispered, drawing my attention to the corner of one image. “Do you see that?”
I zoomed in. Something that looked like string fluttered through the image, there and gone, carried on the wind.
“What is that?”
I pocketed the phone to free my hands and moved in the direction of the area in question. I parted the curtains and spotted the string, rising from a spool in the distance, up over the window and out of sight.
“Is that a kite string?” Sloane whispered.
We turned in near unison and broke into a sprint, moving up the stairs to the rear guest room overlooking the sound. A shadow moved on the roof outside the curtains.
I pushed one arm behind me, warning Sloane to stay back. I inched the curtain panels apart to reveal a kite caught on the roof. Three words were painted across its wingspan.
THAT ONE’S MINE
“Oh my God,” Sloane whispered.
My gaze shot into the distance, following her line of sight to the edge of the marsh and reeds where something merged into the scrub brush.
Then, we were plunged back into darkness.
I pulled Sloane against me and dialed Nash.
“Sheriff’s Department.”
“It’s Knox.” I explained our situation, and he promised to be here in ten minutes.
Sloane and I sat tight, keeping an eye on the threat outside her window.
Her narrow body trembled against mine as I wound the security camera footage back and watched the edge of the lawn for signs of the killer. “There.” She pointed, catching the movement again, a nanosecond before me.
I enhanced the image, focused on the unnatural movement at the edge of the marsh and grasses. “That’s a ghillie suit.”
The killer had dressed to blend and succeeded.
We watched as he held the kite in hand, waiting for the night winds to grow.
He released it as the pieces of his camouflage raised on a heavy gust, and the kite flew across the backyard, controlled by its operator and his grip on the string.
Setting off every motion sensor Colton and Archer had placed, before crashing into the house, the string tangling with the landscaping below.
He didn’t have to get near us to leave a message. And the results were as palpable as if he’d delivered the threat by mouth.
Sloane buried her face into the crook of my neck, trembling. I felt her silent tears on my skin. “I hate this.”
I held her close. “I’ve got you. I promise.”
We stood like that for a long moment, Sloane’s face pressed against me, my hand stroking her hair. Slowly, her trembling eased.
“That was him?” Sloane asked quietly. “The person who attacked me? He was right outside. He planned all this to keep me terrified. To let me know he’s not finished yet?”
“Yeah.” I pressed a kiss to her head. There wasn’t any point in sugarcoating or telling her otherwise. She understood what was happening, and she was tough enough to get through this. I’d be by her side every moment until the monster in that ghillie suit was in prison. Or worse.
We watched the other camera feeds while we waited for Nash. Nothing stood out, until I accessed the arguably least useful view, running along the side of the property with the fewest windows and potential entry points.
“Are those footprints in the flower bed?” Sloane asked.
Nash arrived minutes later, sweeping the property and setting off the motion sensors once more, before knocking on the door. “Knox, Ms. Mercer.”
Sloane urged him inside. “What did you find?”
“Everything you reported.” He looked to the ceiling, as if imagining the home’s exterior.
Or that he could see the roof from where he stood.
“Kite’s in my cruiser. We’ll run it and the spool for prints, but if he was in a ghillie suit, he likely wore gloves.
The red paint could be useful, if it was purchased on the island and we can track it. ”
“And the boot prints?” I asked.
Nash nodded. “I photographed them as well. They’re pretty large, I’m guessing a men’s size thirteen or fourteen.
Based on tread depth, I’m guessing somewhere around two hundred pounds.
I’ll send a deputy out in the morning to make a cast. They’ve likely been there since before your security was upgraded, but you might want to run back through the past few days to see if you catch anything.
Might’ve been out there while you were away, or during the day when motion lights wouldn’t have alerted you. ”
“Will do.”
Nash shifted his gaze to Sloane. “I’ll get a deputy out here for tonight. Odds are this guy won’t be back again before dawn. He made his point. Delivered his message. But a deputy is due diligence.”
“Thank you.”
Nash looked to me and held my gaze.
I understood the unspoken message.
Stay alert.
After he left, Sloane and I watched from her living room as his taillights disappeared down the road. We stayed there until the deputy’s cruiser returned and parked out front.
Archer and Colton were only minutes behind. They’d answered immediately and kept watch on the first floor while I walked Sloane upstairs to bed.
“He could be out there,” Sloane whispered. “Right now. Watching us.”
I pulled her close, my mind already working through contingencies, escape routes, defensive positions. Someone was testing us. Learning our patterns. Waiting for an opening.
But tomorrow, it was our turn to make a move on his turf.