Chapter Twenty-Three
The full moon cast soft-edged shadows on Cedar Street, highlighting the tips of the blue spruce trees.
A crisp breeze shook the pine needles, a few cones dropping and rolling across the sidewalk.
Warm yellow light spilled from the paned windows of Elsa’s Bakery, pushing back the darkness of the surrounding shuttered shops.
As customers exited, the scent of caramelized sugar and warm dough trailed behind them.
“They’re still open,” Jessica Carlson said to her two friends.
“I thought they’d be closed for sure,” Abby said, her cheeks pink from the cold.
“Let’s get inside and warm up,” Sarah said.
Jessica pushed open the door and stepped inside. Warm cinnamon and buttery sweetness wrapped around her. She scanned the glass cases, relief spreading through her when she spotted four Bismarcks, their tops dusted with glimmering granulated sugar.
“I found what I’m going to have.” She laughed and turned to her friends. “A Bismarck, of course.”
Abby smiled, her gaze fixed on the pastries behind the glass cases.
“I don’t see any éclairs,” Sarah said, her voice edged with disappointment.
“Try one of the fruit tarts,” Jessica said, moving forward in line. “I’ve heard they’re really good.”
“I think I’ll settle on two chocolate glazed donuts,” Sarah said, unzipping her purse and pulling out her wallet.
“I’m getting the same,” Abby said, eyes sparkling. “They have the best donuts in the county.”
Jessica swept her gaze over the crowded bakery, searching for the brown-haired guy who’d flirted with her and bought her a raspberry-filled Bismarck the week before.
When she didn’t spot him among the customers, a small wave of disappointment washed over her, dulling her interest in her friends’ conversation.
She placed her order for one blueberry-filled Bismarck—she refused to order the raspberry—and handed the clerk her debit card.
While she waited for her friends, she silently scolded herself for being foolish, for letting the absence of a man she didn’t even know dampen her mood.
They’d had an early dinner at Little Pepina’s, seen the play at the Center Theatre, and now she was topping off the evening with a perfect donut. His absence shouldn’t matter.
After all, he hadn’t asked for her number or suggested meeting again. Expecting him to be there tonight was silly. Still… he had flirted and had bought her the donut.
“Jessica, the guy’s trying to give you your debit card back.”
Abby’s voice cut through her thoughts. Jessica blinked, took the card, mumbled her thanks, and stepped aside to wait for her friends.
“I have to take just one bite,” Sarah said as they stepped back into the cold air.
Jessica and Abby laughed when Sarah polished off the entire donut.
She licked her fingers and shrugged. “Good thing I’ve got another one to enjoy when I get home.”
As the three women started toward Abby’s car, Jessica slowed. Then she stopped.
There was something in the air—something that made her feel energized, wistful, and strangely hopeful.
She hung back.
Sarah glanced over her shoulder. “Come on.”
“I’m going to walk home,” Jessica said.
Abby spun around. “Walk home? Are you crazy? Why would you do that?”
“Why not? I feel like walking, and I won’t feel so guilty about eating my dessert when I get home.”
“There’s a psycho in this town preying on women. You know that. We’ve talked about it a million times,” Abby said.
“Come with us, Jessica. I don’t want you to die.” Sarah’s voice hitched.
“For fuck’s sake, Sarah. I’m not going to die. I live four blocks away. There are people on the sidewalks walking their dogs. It’s not even nine o’clock.”
“You can walk off your donut in the morning. Let me take you home,” Abby said.
“You’re both being ridiculous and beyond paranoid. Anyway, the strangler only attacks women in their homes, not on the streets. So, I’m good, okay?”
“The victim in Henderson was killed on the street,” Abby muttered.
“Please come with us, Jessica,” Sarah said, her voice breaking.
“Now you’re both getting on my nerves. I’m walking home. You’re both overreacting, especially you.” She pointed at Sarah. “And stop crying. People are staring.”
Abby shook her head. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it, you better go while there are still people around. Call me when you get home, okay?”
“I will.”
“Don’t forget,” Sarah said, dabbing her cheeks with a tissue.
“I won’t. Go on so I can get moving.” Jessica laughed.
Her two friends turned and headed toward Abby’s car.
Jessica clutched the strap of her purse to keep it from slipping off her shoulder, a minor annoyance she always hated. She smiled when she heard Abby’s engine sputter, then turn over. Abby was probably watching her in the rearview mirror. And Sarah was definitely turned around, likely still crying.
Sarah’s so over the top. Imagine making such a fuss about me walking a few blocks home.
She shook her head and crossed the street.
Most of the small brick homes she passed had their curtains drawn, blinds shut.
Still, she spotted a woman standing at a kitchen sink, maybe washing dishes from a late dinner or prepping meals for the week.
Jessica often did that on Sundays. Light leaked from the edges of blinds and between drawn curtains, casting long, thin strips across dry lawns and concrete porch steps.
A few windows flickered blue from televisions, while one two-story house glowed warmly, lamps lit in several rooms, spilling comfort onto its quiet porch.
She inhaled the fresh scent of pine, mixed with the faint smokiness of wood-burning fireplaces.
Turning right onto Birch Street, she passed a brightly lit house with a child’s bicycle and toys scattered across the lawn.
A tight knot formed in her stomach—a mix of fear and envy—followed by the familiar ache of loneliness settling in her chest.
She was terrified, truly panicked that the empty, silent house she was walking toward was all she would ever have. In the past several years, she’d managed only four dates before the texts stopped coming. She felt like a failure. Like something was wrong with her.
And then that nice man had bought her a Bismarck at her favorite bakery. Flirted shamelessly and made her feel seen. Her heart had swelled.
Then nothing.
Jessica turned right again onto Elm Street.
All at once, the light vanished. It felt as if the houses and the people inside them had been swallowed whole.
She stopped and looked around. Not a single light glowed in the scattered homes lining the street.
This stretch was broken by vacant lots, land bought cheap by investors waiting to build and flip for profit.
She’d never noticed how dark it was here. She was usually in a car, never paying attention to how forlorn the neighborhood felt at night.
Behind her, the houses were still lit. Farther down, the bakery and convenience store were closing for the evening.
But here, there was only darkness. The clouds slid over the moon, snuffing out the stars that had seemed so bright earlier when she and her friends spilled out of the theatre laughing.
A single streetlight flickered, buzzing like a dying bee as she passed beneath it. It flared bright for a moment, and she stopped. Then it dimmed again.
Someone’s there. In the shadows. Behind the oak tree.
Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was sure he could hear it.
The light snapped bright again. Clutching her chest, she stared at the tree. Nothing. For several seconds, her eyes fixed on it, but nothing moved. Just the cold breeze curling around her.
A long breath pushed through her nose. There’s no one there. I’m spooking myself. It was all that nonsense Abby and Sarah had been saying. Anyone would feel jumpy after the way Sarah carried on.
The wind moaned through the oak trees, their bare branches clattering like skeleton bones. The hair on her arms prickled. Was it just the branches, or footsteps?
Scared to turn around, Jessica quickened her pace. One more block.
Then she froze.
Someone is behind me.
She took a step. Heard another behind her. Or was it ahead? Across the street? Panic clamped down like a vise.
Someone’s following me.
Her grip tightened on her purse strap until her knuckles ached.
Then she ran.
She stumbled over cracked pavement, shoes skidding on wet, decaying leaves. A motion-sensor light on a vacant lot hissed to life, blinding her for a heartbeat, throwing a jagged shadow against a fence marked NO TRESSPASSING. She didn’t stop to see if it was hers or someone else’s.
Keep moving. Faster. Don’t look back.
Her lungs burned. Her gut twisted. Her heart felt like it might explode, but she kept running.
I’m almost home.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, her nose ran, but she didn’t slow down.
Please. Let me make it home safe.
She rounded the corner. Her front porch came into view.
Almost.
She sprinted up the steps, tripped, slammed onto her knees. Pain shot through her, but she didn’t care. She scrambled up, yanked out her keys, forced her shaking fingers to find the right one.
The door flew open.
She slammed it shut, locked it, and secured the deadbolt.
Gasping, she sagged against the door. The warm glow of her grandmother’s lamp grounded her.
“I’m home. I’m safe,” she whispered.
She peeked through the side window. The Johnsons across the street had lights on. The Andersons were pulling into their driveway, the rumble of their garage door the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
Everything’s normal.
She scanned again. Nothing.
Then she laughed, loud and shaky from her belly.
No one was following me. I just scared the hell out of myself.
She texted Abby, then Sarah. Abby sent a thumbs-up emoji. Sarah replied with a pink, sparkling heart. Jessica smiled, grateful for friends who cared.
Then she heard something scrape behind her.
She froze.
“Thanks for the Bismarck, Jessica.”
Spinning around, she gasped, “It’s you. What’re you doing inside my home? How did you—”
Cool fingers closed around her throat. She clawed at them, but he was too strong.
Then everything went black.