yard appeared empty. The gardener had been by earlier today. She could smell the fresh-mown grass, see the meticulously trimmed plants in the side yard.
The gate stood open. She remembered closing it when sheâd locked up for the night, but the latch didnât always holdâ¦.
She needed to see more.
Through the next window, she could make out the area around the deck and pool. Moonlight glimmered off the water and bathed the lounge chairs in pearly white. But she saw nothing that mightâ
Wait! At the shallow end. A dark shape sat in one of the chairs. No, he was lying down. She was sure of it. His hands were propped behind his head and he was staring up at her room as if he didnât have a care in the world.
She jerked her head back. Had he seen her? What was he doing justâ¦lying there?
Heart thumping erratically, she crawled to the slider, which afforded her the best view of all. Sure enough, she had a visitorâa visitor who was doing very little to hide his presence. She got the impression Butch wanted to be seen. While she watched, he leaned over to pick up a small rock and threw it at her window. It missed the glass but hit the side of the house with a crack.
He wasnât sneaking around, as sheâd expected. Clearly he wanted to frighten her.
And he did. Far bolder than sheâd thought heâd be, he seemed completely unafraid of the consequences. He was flaunting that lack of fear, letting her know he enjoyed the game he was playing.
What should she do?
She didnât get the chance to decide. Before she could respond in any way, he rose into a sitting position and cocked his head as if heâd heard a noise that put him on alert.
What was he reacting to? Possibly nothing. He didnât seem overly concerned. He came to his feet and stood there, gazing at her room from beyond the patio. Then he offered her a mocking salute, as though he knew she could see him, and strode calmly to the fence, which he jumped.
A few seconds later she heard what mustâve chased him offâthe crackling of a police radioâand rushed to the front of the house. A cruiser sat at the curb.
Suddenly far less concerned about her state of undress, she unlocked the door and charged through it, down the driveway and right up to the officerâs lowered window.
âHow did you know to come?â she asked the cop who sat behind the wheel, writing a report.
He put aside his clipboard. âProfessional courtesy. Gentleman by the name of Jonah Young called in, said you were being harassed and asked if we could drive by every once in a while. Iâve been by twice already. Why? Somethinâ wrong?â He glanced around.
Heedless of the tears streaking down her cheeks, she sank onto the blacktop. It was over. For tonight.
But what about the next time? Butch would be back. His brazen behavior made it a certainty.
Â
So? Are you going to answer? Will you do it?
Jonah rubbed his tired eyes, then reread Loriâs text message for probably the fifteenth time in three days. He needed to respond to her at some point. Ex-wife or no, he should be civil. But he wasnât ready to address the issues her request dredged up. The clock on the wall showed three in the morning. Heâd been up for nearly twenty-four hours and was in no frame of mind to formulate an answer that sounded halfway polite. Considering how things had gone down when they were briefly married, which seemed like another life since it was before heâd ever become a cop, he didnât feel he owed her any special consideration.
On the other hand, he couldnât see a lot of reason to deny her what she was asking for. It wasnât that big a sacrifice. And heâd made his own share of mistakes in life. Francesca was proof. Besides, he was over Lori. He believed sheâd be a good mother. So why not write the letter? Why not support her attempt to adopt a baby?
Resentment had to be the answer.
The gate stood open. She remembered closing it when sheâd locked up for the night, but the latch didnât always holdâ¦.
She needed to see more.
Through the next window, she could make out the area around the deck and pool. Moonlight glimmered off the water and bathed the lounge chairs in pearly white. But she saw nothing that mightâ
Wait! At the shallow end. A dark shape sat in one of the chairs. No, he was lying down. She was sure of it. His hands were propped behind his head and he was staring up at her room as if he didnât have a care in the world.
She jerked her head back. Had he seen her? What was he doing justâ¦lying there?
Heart thumping erratically, she crawled to the slider, which afforded her the best view of all. Sure enough, she had a visitorâa visitor who was doing very little to hide his presence. She got the impression Butch wanted to be seen. While she watched, he leaned over to pick up a small rock and threw it at her window. It missed the glass but hit the side of the house with a crack.
He wasnât sneaking around, as sheâd expected. Clearly he wanted to frighten her.
And he did. Far bolder than sheâd thought heâd be, he seemed completely unafraid of the consequences. He was flaunting that lack of fear, letting her know he enjoyed the game he was playing.
What should she do?
She didnât get the chance to decide. Before she could respond in any way, he rose into a sitting position and cocked his head as if heâd heard a noise that put him on alert.
What was he reacting to? Possibly nothing. He didnât seem overly concerned. He came to his feet and stood there, gazing at her room from beyond the patio. Then he offered her a mocking salute, as though he knew she could see him, and strode calmly to the fence, which he jumped.
A few seconds later she heard what mustâve chased him offâthe crackling of a police radioâand rushed to the front of the house. A cruiser sat at the curb.
Suddenly far less concerned about her state of undress, she unlocked the door and charged through it, down the driveway and right up to the officerâs lowered window.
âHow did you know to come?â she asked the cop who sat behind the wheel, writing a report.
He put aside his clipboard. âProfessional courtesy. Gentleman by the name of Jonah Young called in, said you were being harassed and asked if we could drive by every once in a while. Iâve been by twice already. Why? Somethinâ wrong?â He glanced around.
Heedless of the tears streaking down her cheeks, she sank onto the blacktop. It was over. For tonight.
But what about the next time? Butch would be back. His brazen behavior made it a certainty.
Â
So? Are you going to answer? Will you do it?
Jonah rubbed his tired eyes, then reread Loriâs text message for probably the fifteenth time in three days. He needed to respond to her at some point. Ex-wife or no, he should be civil. But he wasnât ready to address the issues her request dredged up. The clock on the wall showed three in the morning. Heâd been up for nearly twenty-four hours and was in no frame of mind to formulate an answer that sounded halfway polite. Considering how things had gone down when they were briefly married, which seemed like another life since it was before heâd ever become a cop, he didnât feel he owed her any special consideration.
On the other hand, he couldnât see a lot of reason to deny her what she was asking for. It wasnât that big a sacrifice. And heâd made his own share of mistakes in life. Francesca was proof. Besides, he was over Lori. He believed sheâd be a good mother. So why not write the letter? Why not support her attempt to adopt a baby?
Resentment had to be the answer.
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