***
She hadn’t heard him, she was asleep, drooling against the window. Frank got her home, into the house, and tucked into bed, clothes and all. He fed the cat, locked up the house on his way out and left a note for her saying he’d check in on her in the morning. He got as comfortable as he could on the porch swing in the dark and let a restless sleep claim him.
He didn’t believe their being hit on the motorcycle had been an accident for one Chicago second. Someone had been trying to give them a warning–or kill them.
With the first rays of dawn he awoke, careful not to make too much noise and wake the woman sleeping in the house. He inspected the premises and the yard, and then drove home, returning a couple of hours later with something to eat for both of them.
He hung around most of the day and evening under one pretense or another until Abigail kicked him out or believed she’d kicked him out. Instead, he haunted the area, guarding her house, from the front seat of his truck on and off for a couple of days until he was fairly sure she was safe.
One night sitting there, it brought to mind what Abigail had said about Sheriff Cal Brewster doing the same thing all those years ago, but for Emily. The squad car parked outside Emily’s house all those nights…had the sheriff been harassing her or had he been trying to help her? Now that was a good question but Frank didn’t have an answer to it.
Scraps of Paper Page 23
