by Angie West
***
It was well past sunset by the time I pulled into my subdivision. Of course, if it hadn’t been dark, I would have waited until it was. I couldn’t be sure whoever had been inside my house that night was gone; just the opposite…I was certain my house was still occupied. It was probably the bright lights burning though the night from my kitchen window that gave it away. So, they were still waiting for me…great.
Well, I rationalized as I crept into the yard from the alley, I expected that. So there was really no need for me to feel like throwing up into my rose bushes. I told myself all of this. It didn’t help. Knowing that people who wanted to hurt me were within shouting distance did absolutely nothing for my nerves.
The moon was silvery and bright and the night was foggy—thank you, God—as I dropped to my stomach, crawling the rest of the way to the largest of the four trees in my backyard. Hopefully, Mike had buried it under this one, because I didn’t think I had it in me to dig up the others out in the open like that.
Looking down at my hands, I grabbed the small shovel and trowel I had brought with me. I had purchased them, along with my new black sweater and jeans, on the way. The shovel and several gardening tools that I owned were stored in the garage, which was attached to the house. Anyway, I studied my hands for a minute and listened to the night sounds around me.
“All clear,” I whispered, and began to dig. Inside the house, shadows moved.