Her heart slammed against her ribs as she took the porch steps two at a time. The front door was unlocked, left that way by one of the other tenants, and Chloe shoved it open, stumbling across the threshold and into the foyer, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, her nerves screaming a warning.
Shut the door. Turn the lock. Get in the apartment.
The lock turned under her trembling fingers, her bad leg nearly buckling as she ran up the stairs to her apartment. She shoved the key into the lock, swung the door open. Slammed it shut again.
Safe.
Her heart slowed. Her gasping terror-filled breaths eased. Everything was fine. There was nothing outside that she needed to fear. Even if there was, she was locked in the house, locked in her apartment.
A loud bang sounded from somewhere below, and Chloe jumped, her fear back and clawing up her throat.
The back door.
The realization hit as the step at the bottom of the stairs creaked, the telltale sound sending Chloe across the room. She grabbed the phone, dialed 911, her heart racing so fast it felt as though it would burst from her chest.
Blackness threatened, panic stealing her breath and her oxygen, but Chloe refused to let it have her, forcing herself to breath deeply. To take action.
She grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen, her gaze on the door, her eyes widening with horror as the old-fashioned glass knob began to turn.
Chloe clutched the phone in one hand and the knife in the other, praying the lock would hold and wondering if passing out might be better than facing whatever was on the other side of the door.
* * *
Ben Avery bounced a redheaded toddler on his knee, and smiled at his friend, Sheriff Jake Reed, who was cradling a dark-haired infant. “I’m thinking we may be able to go fishing again in twenty-one years.”
“You’re going next weekend.” Tiffany Reed strode into the room, her red hair falling around her shoulders in wild waves. Three weeks after having her second child, she looked as vivacious and lovely as ever. “Jake needs a break.”
“From what?” Jake stood, laid the baby in a bassinet and wrapped his arms around his wife. “This is where I want to be.”
“I know that, but Ben’s made two week’s worth of meals for us. It’s time for you to take him out to thank him.”
Ben stood, the little girl in his arms giggling as he tickled her belly. “I made the meals because I wanted to. I don’t need any thanks.”
“Of course you don’t, but you and Jake are still going fishing next weekend. Right, honey?”
Jake met Ben’s eyes, shrugged and smiled. “I guess we are. What time?”
Before Ben could reply, Jake’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the number. “Work. I’d better take it.”
Tiffany pulled her daughter from Ben’s arms, shushing the still-giggling child and carrying her from the room.
Ben made himself comfortable, settling back onto the sofa and waiting while Jake answered the phone. Whatever was happening couldn’t be good if Jake was being called in.
“Reed here. Right. Give me the address.” He jotted something down on a piece of paper. “Davidson?”
At the name, Ben straightened, an image of straight black hair and emerald eyes flashing through his mind.
“Okay. Keep her on the phone. I’ll be there in ten.” Jake hung up, grabbed a jacket from the closet.
“You said Davidson?”
“Yeah. Lady living out on the lake in the Richard’s place is reporting an intruder in the house. My men are tied up at an accident outside of town, so I’m going to take the call.”
“Did you get a first name?”
“Chloe.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, that’s not the way it works.”
“It is this time. I’ll stay in the squad car until you clear things, but I’m coming.”
“Since I don’t have time to argue or ask questions, we’ll do it your way.”
It took only seconds for Jake to say goodbye to his family, but those seconds seemed like a lifetime to Ben, every one of them another opportunity for whoever was in the house with Chloe to harm her. As they climbed into the cruiser and sped toward the lake, Ben could only pray that she’d be safe until he and Jake arrived.
* * *
Sirens sounded in the distance and Chloe backed toward the window that overlooked the front door, her gaze still fixed on the glass knob. It hadn’t turned again, but she was expecting it to and wondering what she’d do if or when the door crashed open.
“Chloe? Are you still there?” The woman on the other end of the line sounded as scared as Chloe felt.
“Yes.” She glanced out the window, saw a police cruiser pull up to the house, lights flashing, sirens blaring. “The police are here. I’m going to hang up.”
“Don’t—”
But Chloe was already disconnecting, tossing the phone and knife onto the couch and hurrying toward the door. The stairs creaked, footsteps pounded on wooden steps and a fist slammed against the door. “Ms. Davidson? Sheriff Jake Reed. Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She pulled the door open, stepping back as a tall, hard-faced man strode in, a gun in his hand.
“Good. I’m going to escort you to my car. I want you to stay there until I’m finished in here.”
“Finished?”
“Making sure whoever was here isn’t still hanging around.”
Still hanging around?
Chloe didn’t like the sound of that and hurried down the stairs and outside, the crisp fall air making her shiver. Or maybe it was fear that had her shaking.
“I won’t be long. Stay in the car until I come back out. I don’t want to mistake you for the intruder.”
“And I don’t want to be out here alone.” She might not like the idea of someone being in the house, but she liked the idea of staying outside by herself even less.
“Then it’s good you don’t have to be.” As he spoke a figure stepped out of the cruiser. Tall, broad-shouldered and moving with lithe and silent grace.
Chloe knew who it was immediately, her visceral response announcing his name, her betraying heart leaping in acknowledgement. “Ben, what are you doing here?”
“How about we discuss it in the cruiser?” He wrapped an arm around her waist and hurried her down the steps. Strong, solid, dependable in a way Adam had never been. The comparison didn’t sit well with Chloe. Noticing how different Ben was from the man she’d once loved was something she shouldn’t be doing.
“Climb in.” He held the cruiser door open for her, then slid in himself, his knee nudging her leg, his arm brushing hers.
She scooted back against the door, doing her best to ignore the scent of pine needles and soap that drifted on the air, but he leaned in close, his jaw tight, his face much harder than it had seemed earlier. “Are you okay?”
“Just scared.”
“Jake said someone was inside the house with you. Did he make it into your apartment?”
“No, but it looked like he was trying to get in.” She shuddered, watching as the lights in the attic area of the Victorian flicked on.
“Did you see the person?”
“I saw something before I went in the house, but if it was a person, I couldn’t tell. There was no way I was going to open the apartment door to take a look.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. That would have been a bad idea.” The porch light flicked off, then on again, and Ben pushed open the car door. “That’s Jake’s all clear. Ready to go back inside?”
“Of course.” But she wasn’t really. Sitting in the car with Ben seemed a lot safer than stepping back into the darkness.
He rounde
d the car, pulled open her door and offered a hand. “It’ll be okay, Chloe. Whoever it was is long gone.”
Chloe nodded, not trusting herself to speak, afraid anything she said would be filled with the panic and paranoia that had chased her from D.C. Nightmares. Terror. The feeling of being watched, of being stalked. She’d been plagued with all of them since being released from the hospital nine months ago. Post-traumatic stress. That’s what the doctors said. That’s what the police said. Given enough time, Ben and Jake would probably say the same.
She braced herself as she stepped back into the house, sure that Jake would tell her he’d found nothing, that her mind had been playing tricks on her, that nothing had happened. She was only partially right.
Jake seemed convinced that something had happened, but his list of evidence was slim—an unlocked back door, a smudge of dirt on the back deck that might have been a footprint, fingerprints that might have belonged to the intruder, but more likely belonged to someone who lived in the house.
“We’ll get prints of the other tenants. See if I’ve picked up anything that doesn’t belong to one of you. Can you come to the station Monday?”
“I’ve got to work, but I’m sure Opal will give me the time off.”
“Good. In the meantime, keep the doors locked and don’t take unnecessary risks. I’m thinking this is probably a kid playing a prank or hoping to find some quick cash, but you never know.”
“No, you don’t.” Chloe shifted her weight, trying to ease the ache in her leg, trying to convince herself that the sheriff was right and that what had just happened had nothing to do with her former life.
Tried, but wasn’t successful.
He must have sensed her misgivings. His gaze sharpened, going from warm blue to ice. “Is there something you’re not telling me? If so it’s best to get it out in the open now.”
“I’m just not sure what happened tonight was random.” There. It was out. For better or worse. If it made her look crazy, so be it.
“And you have a reason for thinking that?” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to his words, a hardness to his face that hadn’t been there before.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been followed into a building. It’s not the first time I’ve felt like I was in danger.”
“It sounds like there’s a lot more to the story than what happened tonight. Maybe we should finish this discussion in your apartment.” He started up the stairs, giving Chloe no choice but to follow.
Which was fine.
It was better to get everything out on the table now rather than later. And Chloe was pretty sure there would be a later. As much as she’d hoped things would be different here, she hadn’t been convinced she could leave all her troubles behind. Apparently, she’d been right.
“Do you want me to wait outside?” Ben spoke quietly as he followed her up the stairs and Chloe knew what her answer should be. Yes, wait outside. Yes, keep your distance.
Unfortunately, knowing what she should say didn’t make her say it. “No. You’re fine. I’m going to get some coffee started. Then we’ll talk.”
She stepped into the living room, limped to the kitchen, and pulled coffee and a package of cookies from the cupboard. If she had to talk about the past, she might as well have sugar in her while she did it.
“Cookie, anyone?”
The sheriff shook his head, a hint of impatience in his eyes. “You were going to tell me why you don’t think tonight was a prank.”
Chloe nodded, forcing her muscles to relax and her tone to remain calm. Sounding hysterical was a surefire way to make herself seem unbalanced. “Eleven months ago someone tried to kill me. He failed.”
The words had an immediate effect. Both men straightened, leaned toward her. Intent. Focused. Concerned.
Now if they’d just stay that way through the entire story, Chloe might believe that things really were going to be different.
“Who?” Jake pulled a small notebook from his pocket, started scribbling notes in it.
“A man named Matthew Jackson.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“Federal prison serving a life sentence for murder.”
“Murder?” Ben reached over and took the cookies from her hand, pulled two out of the package and handed her one.
“My fiancé was killed in the accident Jackson caused.”
Jake glanced up from the notepad. “And you think that has something to do with what happened tonight?”
“I don’t know. I just know that ever since the accident, things have been happening.”
“Things?”
Was there a tinge of doubt in Jake’s voice, a look of disbelief on his face? Or was Chloe just imagining what she’d seen so many times on the faces of so many other police officers. “Like I said, I’ve had the feeling that I was being followed. A couple of times I was sure someone had been in my apartment.”
There was something else, too. Something that she didn’t dare bring up.
“You contacted the police?”
“Yes. They investigated.”
“And?”
“At first they thought I was being stalked by some of Jackson’s friends. He was part of a cult that I’d helped close down a few months earlier.”
“The Strangers?” Ben took another cookie from the pack.
Surprised, Chloe met his gaze, saw the interest and concern there. “Yes.”
“I remember hearing about it in the news. A computer forensics specialist was investigating a cult member’s death and found evidence that implicated the leader. He went to jail for money laundering, but they couldn’t prove that he’d killed his follower.”
“The deceased’s name was Ana Benedict. She started working as an accountant for the cult’s leader and was dead a few months later. Her death was ruled a suicide, but her parents didn’t believe it.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about it.” Jake was still writing, a frown creasing his forehead.
“I worked freelance for the private investigator Ana’s parents hired. They had her laptop, but there wasn’t much on it. I was hired to search for deleted files and I found plenty. Ana had documented everything. The Strangers were involved in the drug trade and were laundering money through their organization. I brought the information to the FBI.”
“And Jackson blamed you when the cult dispersed.”
“Yes.”
“You said that after the attempt on your life, you felt like you were being followed and that someone had been in your apartment. The police suspected other cult members?”
“For a while.”
“And then?”
Chloe grabbed mugs and poured coffee into them. Anything to keep from facing the two men who were watching her so intently. “They decided it was all in my head.”
“I see.” Jake spoke quietly, but Chloe knew he didn’t see at all.
She turned back around, handing a cup to each man. “Look, Sheriff Reed—”
“Call me Jake.”
“Jake, there may not be evidence proving I’m being stalked, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”
“I don’t think I said it wasn’t.” He sipped his coffee, exchanging a glance with Ben, one that excluded Chloe and conveyed a message she couldn’t even begin to figure out.
“No, you didn’t, but I’ve been told it enough times to imagine that’s what you’re thinking.”
“What I’m thinking is that I don’t know what happened in D.C. Whatever it was, it’s not going to happen here.” He placed his coffee cup on the counter. “I’d better head out. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, give me a call.”
“I will.” Chloe followed him to the door, holding it open as
he stepped out and started down the stairs.
Ben held back, the concern in his eyes obvious. “Will you be okay here alone?”
“I’ve been living alone since I was eighteen.”
“That doesn’t mean you’ll be okay.”
“Of course I’ll be okay. What other choice do I have?” She tried to smile, but knew she failed miserably.
“You could stay with Opal.”
And bring whatever danger was following her into her friend’s life? Chloe didn’t think so. “No, I really will be fine.”
Ben watched her for a moment, his gaze so intense Chloe fidgeted. Then he nodded. “All right. Keep the doors locked and be safe.”
He stepped out into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Chloe in the silent apartment.
Be safe?
She didn’t even know what the word meant anymore. She sighed, grabbed a cookie from the package and collapsed onto the easy chair. Maybe she’d figure it out again. Maybe. Somehow she doubted that would be the case.
Chapter Six
“Sounds like your friend has a big problem.” Jake’s comment echoed what Ben had been thinking since he’d walked out of Chloe’s apartment.
“Really big.”
“Unless the police in D.C. are right and the stalker is all in her head.”
“She seems pretty sure about what’s been going on.”
“Being sure of something only means we’ve convinced ourselves that it’s true. I don’t put much stock in it.” Despite the gruff words, Jake sounded pensive and Ben knew he was leaning toward Chloe’s version of things.
“You seemed to believe someone was at her apartment.”
“I do. I’m just not convinced it has anything to do with what happened in D.C. It could just as easily have been a kid, or someone out to steal a few bucks.”
“It could have been.”
“But you don’t think so?”
“I think there’s more to the story than Chloe is telling. I think that until we have all the information, it’ll be hard to know exactly what’s going on.”
“Agreed. I’m going to call some friends that are still on the D.C. police force and see what they have to say.” He paused as he pulled into the driveway of his house. “Regardless of what they say, I’m treating this like any other investigation until I can prove it’s not one.”
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