Chapter One Hundred Seventeen
Xavier
Near Midnight
The second I step out of the bathroom, I stop in the hallway. The house feels wrong. Colder than before. The hair on my arms rises as I scan the room.
The living room lamp glows. Front door closed. Locked. Windows intact. Nothing broken or overturned. My tools are exactly where I left them on the kitchen counter.
Everything looks normal. Except…. Something sits in the middle of the coffee table.
My heart flips. A folded piece of paper. That wasn’t there before. I cross the room and pick it up. The handwriting is sharp and uneven.
Leave her alone.
A cold weight settles into my chest. Someone was inside this house while I was here.
The back door slams. Adrenaline detonates through me. I shove through the kitchen and yank the door open.
A figure cuts across the far edge of the yard. “Hey!”
I sprint down the porch steps barefoot, ice biting into my feet. The figure darts toward the tree line. Smaller build. Definitely not Greg. Maybe Brent, but thinner than I remember.
Everything happens too fast to be sure. Pain slices through my heel when I land on a rock.
“Fuck.” I stumble before catching myself. “Stop!”
The figure disappears between the trees. I make it to the edge of the woods before stopping, breathing hard. Branches rustle somewhere ahead. Then nothing.
No footsteps. No snapping branches. No indication of which direction they went.
The note crumples tighter in my fist.
Leave her alone.
Someone climbed into Ruby’s house while I was fifteen fucking feet away. If she’d been here alone…. No.
I turn toward the house. The porch light spills across the yard. How in the fuck did they get inside?
*****
Jake gets there in less than ten minutes. I meet him outside, this time wearing boots and a jacket.
“What happened?”
I hold up the note. “Found it on the coffee table.”
His expression hardens. “You see anyone?”
“Ran out the back.” Anger surges through me at the thought. I was so close to catching them. If I’d come out of the bathroom ten seconds sooner….
“What’d they look like?”
I rake my hand through my hair. “Smaller than Greg. Maybe Brent’s build, but thinner. I didn’t get a good look.”
Jake takes the note carefully. “How long were you away from the room?”
“Fifteen minutes. Maybe.”
We go inside.
He barely makes it through the kitchen before stopping. “Cold in here.”
His eyes land on the sink. Darting upward. The window above the sink is cracked open several inches.
“That wasn’t open?”
“Definitely not.”
Jake moves closer without touching it. “Screen’s bent.” Faint smears of mud mark the floor beneath the window. “Looks like our entry point.”
Cold anger twists through my chest. Someone climbed through Ruby’s window while I was in the fucking house.
“Cameras?” Jake asks.
“I checked before you got here.”
“And?”
“Nothing.” My hands ball into fists. At this point, I’m looking like a total fucking loser at keeping Ruby and her property safe. I’ve never considered myself more worthless in my life.
His head comes up. “Nothing?”
And clearly, Jake agrees with my assessment.
Despite the cold air floating into the room, heat creeps up my neck. I yank my T-shirt collar away from my chest. “Not a damn thing.”
We head outside.
Jake reaches the first camera and stops. “Well, there’s your problem.”
“What?”
He points. The lens is aimed toward the road instead of the porch and side yard.
“What the hell?”
Jake studies the mount. “Could’ve shifted.”
“Or somebody moved it.”
Neither of us says which one seems more likely.
We check the footage anyway. Me leaving for work. Me coming home. Rain turning to sleet. Wind. Me feeding the pigs. A raccoon. The neighbor’s cat. Nothing useful.
Jake pulls out his notebook. “You’re sure about the size?”
“Only that it wasn’t Greg. Brent?” I shake my head. “Maybe.”
Jake looks toward the woods. “I’m going to check his alibi.”
I stare back at the open kitchen window. If it isn’t Brent, then who the fuck is it?