Chapter 9 Lori #2
A moment later, Mitch came into view and smiled as he climbed the porch steps more slowly, his eyes finding Lori’s with an intensity that made her breath catch. He looked good in jeans and a dark blue shirt that matched his eyes.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” Mitch said. “But I saw you ladies on the porch, and I just wanted to say hello to Tessa.”
“You’re not interrupting at all,” Lori said, standing.
“Hi, Mitch,” Tessa said fondly, standing to hug him hello.
“Hello, you’re even skinnier than you were last time I saw you,” Mitch teased her.
“Thank you.” Tessa smiled back, enjoying the teasing and obviously fond of her mother’s neighbor. “Where’s Piper?
“She’s staying at a friend’s house tonight but will be back tomorrow morning,” Mitch answered. “You can expect to see her here as soon as she’s been dropped off. She’s so excited that you’re here.”
“I’m just sorry that Maggie’s not here this summer,” Tessa said.
“That’s okay, “ Mitch replied. “Maggie said she’ll be here for Thanksgiving this year.”
“Yes, that’s the plan,” Tessa confirmed. “Why don’t you have a glass of wine with us?”
“I don’t want to impose,” Mitch told them. “I just wanted to say hi.”
“It’s not imposing if we’re inviting you,” Tessa said warmly. “Please stay. I’d love to catch up with you.”
“All right,” Mitch said, smiling. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
What followed was one of those perfect summer evenings that felt suspended in time. They spoke about everything and nothing. Laughing, Lori listened to stories of the years Tessa, Maggie, and Carrie had spent next door to Mitch and his family, with all the funny moments.
Lori found herself relaxing completely for the first time in days. This was what she’d been missing. Community. Connection. The warmth of people who cared for each other, sharing a glass of wine and conversation.
She caught Mitch’s eye across the table at one point, and the look he gave her was so warm, so full of something she was afraid to name, that her heart stuttered.
Near the end of the evening, the conversation turned more serious. Tessa asked Mitch about whether he’d noticed anything unusual around Pelican Bay lately.
Mitch’s expression shifted, becoming more guarded. “Why do you ask?”
“Lori’s been telling me about some odd occurrences,” Tessa said carefully. “I’m a little concerned.”
“You should be,” Mitch said bluntly, glancing at Lori. “I’ve noticed things, too. Someone’s been watching the houses on our street.”
“There are only two houses on this street!” Tessa’s brows rose as she watched him intently. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Mitch said. “I’ve been trying to figure out who and why, but so far I haven’t had much luck.”
They talked for another hour, comparing observations, discussing possibilities. By the time Mitch left around eleven, Lori had to admit to herself that she was a bit more than a little uneasy and a bit scared.
They waved goodbye to Mitch and moved inside, making sure that all the doors and windows were locked. Misty had been quiet all evening, content with the company and full from the scraps Lori had given her. Now she lay on her bed near the fireplace, head on her paws, eyes half-closed.
Lori and Tessa talked for another hour, the conversation moving to lighter topics. Books they’d read, shows they’d watched, mutual friends from Boston. It felt good to have Tessa here, to share this space with someone who knew her history, who understood where she’d been and how far she’d come.
Around twelve, Lori was just about to suggest they head to bed when Misty’s head came up. Her ears went forward, and she stood, staring at the front door.
Then she started barking. Not the happy bark she gave when Piper or Mitch arrived, but a deep, aggressive bark that raised the hair on the back of Lori’s neck.
Tessa sat up straight. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know,” Lori said, standing. “She never barks like that.”
Misty moved toward the front door, still barking, the hair on her back standing up in a ridge. She was growling now, too, a low rumble that vibrated through the room.
Then the doorbell rang.
At eleven o’clock at night.
Lori and Tessa froze, staring at each other. Misty’s barking intensified.
“Stay here,” Tessa said, standing and moving toward the door.
“We’re not answering it,” Lori said, her heart hammering.
“I’m just going to look through the peephole,” Tessa said, but Lori followed her anyway, unable to stay back.
They approached the door together, Misty right beside them, still growling. Tessa looked through the peephole, then stepped back, frowning.
“There’s no one there,” she said.
“Don’t open it,” Lori said.
“I’m just going to check,” Tessa said, unlocking the door and pulling it open.
The porch was empty. No one stood in the circle of light from the porch lamp. No sound of footsteps running away. Nothing.
But on the doormat, directly in front of the door, lay a dead seabird.
It was arranged carefully, almost reverently. Wings spread. Head positioned just so. Like someone had taken time to compose the scene.
Lori’s hand went to her mouth. Tessa stared at the bird, her jaw tight.
“I guess there’s no way of hoping the bird flew into the doorbell and concussed itself,” Tessa said, her voice dry but with an edge of real concern underneath.
“No,” Lori whispered. “Someone put it there. Someone rang the doorbell and left a dead bird on the doorstep.”
Tessa pulled out her phone. “I’m calling the police. Now.”
“No,” Lori said, stopping Tessa. “Let’s call Mitch.”
Tessa nodded, staring at the bird, at this deliberate message left on the doorstep. Lori’s eyes followed her and she knew in that instant, this wasn’t her imagination. This wasn’t paranoia. Someone was watching. Someone was sending messages.
And they were getting bolder.