She just hated the thought of leaving the house. The idea of venturing into the quiet, ghostly town, with its lurking strangers and suspicious cops, made her shudder. Grace knew she had to do something else, though, because she couldn’t wander around the creaky, ancient house any longer without going a little bit crazy. The kids wouldn’t be home from school for a couple of hours, and Jules was working a double shift. Grace had gone from living a fulfilling, happy life to spooking at her own shadow and hiding in a house that wasn’t even hers.
She couldn’t even mess around on the Internet, since she didn’t have a laptop, and her new phone was a basic-model burner. To find a job, she needed to shake off her paranoia and go to town.
Now. She took a determined step toward the front door. I should go job hunting now. As she moved toward the door, Martin Jovanovic’s face popped into her head. What if he’d found her new town? What if, as she walked into the library, he grabbed her from behind, just like he’d done at his house in California? He wouldn’t even need to grab her. He could hide in the shadows and shoot her dead. All the possible ways Martin could kill her filled Grace’s mind, and she froze in place, unable to move even an inch closer to the entrance.
Tomorrow morning, then, she thought, almost running into the living room and plopping down on the couch. There would probably be more business owners around in the morning anyway. She could stop at the library to use one of their computers, have lunch with Jules, and make a whole day of it. That would work much better than trying to squeeze everything in that afternoon.
Ignoring the rational part of her brain that knew she’d be just as scared of Martin Jovanovic tomorrow, she reached for the remote and clicked on the television. It was small and old and only got a few channels, but watching it was better than peeking out the windows and imagining that she saw Martin Jovanovic hiding in the trees.
The theme song for a soap opera came on, and she groaned. She’d never watched much daytime TV before, and, after a week of her self-imposed house arrest, she understood why. Most of it was very, very bad. She lifted the remote to change the channel.
A knock on the door had her jolting from the sofa to her feet in an instant. She hesitated, her heart pounding, not sure if she should run out the back or answer the door. It was probably nothing. After all, Martin Jovanovic wouldn’t knock. He’d just barge in and grab her. Or maybe just shoot her. Or stab her. Or… Okay, she needed to stop.
The knock came again, a heavy pounding that sounded urgent and serious. She took a step toward the door, but then hesitated. Her car was parked behind the house, out of sight, so whoever was at the door wouldn’t be able to tell that she was at home.
An advertising jingle rang out from the TV, making her flinch. Fumbling for the remote, she muted the television, hoping it wasn’t too late. Had the visitor heard the TV before she’d silenced it? The knocking had stopped, though. Maybe they were leaving?
Her nerves calming at the thought, she shifted toward the window, intending to look outside. Before she could take more than a couple of steps, she heard the distinctive squeal of the front door hinges.
Someone had just broken in.
Her heart immediately sped up until it was thrumming in her ears. Had she locked the door after the kids had left for the bus stop that morning? Grace knew she had. She remembered the feel of the dead bolt under her fingers as she turned it. Whoever it was must have a key. Maybe it was Jules, home early.
Even as she had the thought, Grace dismissed it. Why would Jules have knocked first?
The floor in the entry creaked, reminding Grace of her most urgent issue at the moment: someone was in the house. As quietly as possible, she started backing up. This was not a good room to be trapped in. The only door was the one into the hallway—where the intruder was. The large, central window was solid. The two smaller panes of glass beside it would reluctantly crank out a few inches, but definitely not wide enough to fit her entire body through.
Why had she hesitated when she’d first heard the knock? If she’d immediately headed for the back door, she’d already be far, far away. Now she was stuck.
Her gaze ran over the room, searching for hiding spots, but there weren’t any good ones. The closet was too obvious, but it would have to do. Maybe they wouldn’t bother searching.
As she hurried toward the small closet door, her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. It beat so loudly that it felt as if everyone still left in Monroe could hear the pounding.
“What are you doing?”
She whipped around, grabbing the first thing within reach to use as a weapon.
Hugh looked from her face to her hand with his usual expression of barely contained amusement—a look that aggravated Grace more every time she encountered him. Even the dog standing next to him looked entertained. “The mute button doesn’t work on me. Trust me. Others have tried.”