“It’s something you learn in med school since there are times you never want a patient to be able to read your face. However, I’d already had a few lessons from Roger.”
“Why do you call him Roger?”
“He doesn’t deserve the title ‘dad.’” The words slipped past her filters and she sighed. “That sounds harsh, I know, but truly, he’s never been a father to me, and I’ve never been able to bring myself to use that word with him. At least not past the age of nine.”
“I can see that.”
“I sometimes refer to him as ‘my father’ when discussing him with other people, but to his face, he’s Roger.”
He stopped at a red light, then turned to study her. Long enough that she wanted to squirm.
“What is it?”
“Just thinking.”
“About?” She glanced away. “The light’s green.”
He pressed the gas and kept his eyes on the road, but asked, “So . . . how did you become you? A doctor. A compassionate human being who cares about others?”
“Funny. I asked Ryker almost the same question as we were running through the woods.” She paused to find the words to explain. “I tend to learn by example, then figure out if it’s a good example or a bad one. I knew Roger was definitely a bad one, so I did my best to be the exact opposite of his personality. He treated people terribly, I tried to exhibit thoughtfulness and kindness. He hated God, so I learned as much as I could about God and grew to love him—and view him as the example of what a father should be. Roger loved money, I decided to give away as much as I could. The list is endless, right down to the fact that Roger loved working out, lifting weights, and using that acquired strength against anyone who got in his way.”
“That’s why you don’t like to exercise!”
“My concession to exercise is the stairs at work whenever possible. And that’s usually several flights multiple times a day. I know I need to do something active to stay healthy—I won’t let him take that from me as well—but setting foot in a gym probably isn’t in my future.” Heather grimaced. “I don’t know if I can blame that one on him, but I’m happy to do so.”
He laughed and took the next left, following Gavin.
She yawned. “You know, just because you have a bad start in life doesn’t mean you have to have a bad finish.”
“That’s a great attitude.”
“Hmm . . . well, I didn’t always have it, but all that matters is that I finally got it.” Another yawn hit her. Riding in the car always made her sleepy—as long as she didn’t have a hood over her head and was terrified she was going to die.
“Why don’t you rest your eyes for a few minutes?” Travis said. “We’ve got another thirty minutes or so before we get there.”
“I’m all right.”
“Heather, take the opportunity to rest.”
“What about you? I know you didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Gavin, Caden, and I took turns on guard duty. I actually got a few hours of good sleep.”
“I’m glad someone did.”
He shot her a knowing look. “Exactly.”
She grimaced. “Fine. You’re right. I won’t sleep, but I’ll close my eyes.” Thirty minutes. There was no way she’d allow herself to fall asleep, because all the talking about her father brought back many unpleasant memories, while the thought of walking into her house might just bring on a few nightmares.
Travis pulled to a stop at the curb of Heather’s house and cut the engine. Gavin and Caden flanked his truck with their vehicles. He glanced at his sleeping passenger and hated the thought of waking her.
Then again, her furrowed brow and occasional stifled whimper didn’t suggest that she was resting all that well. And who could blame her?
Travis touched her arm, and she jerked, eyes snapping open, instantly ready for battle.
“Hey,” he said, “it’s just me.”
She wilted, the nightmare fading from her gaze. “Did I cry out?”
“No. You were just really restless.”
She gave a short nod, and he didn’t discern any hint of self-consciousness that he’d witnessed her in such a vulnerable state.
Caden stepped up to the window. “Stay here while we clear the place. It looks undisturbed from here, but . . .”
Heather waved a hand in understanding, and Caden punched in the code to her alarm system. When her garage door went up, she let out a long sigh. “You do realize that I’m having trouble processing that my home needs to be cleared before I enter it. Even after everything. It’s just . . . surreal.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. Better safe than . . . not.”
“I know. I’m exhausted. All I want to do is climb in bed and pull the covers over my head.” She paused. “Maybe a bed in a hotel, though. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep here anytime soon.”
“I can understand that.” He let out a slow breath. “Want to see how you feel once you’re inside?”
“Maybe. Yeah. I can do that.” She pressed her lips together, her eyes on the garage. “I have dreams,” she said. “I guess you noticed.”
“I did.”
“It’s mostly when I’m stressed that they find their way to the surface.”
“I can’t imagine what you’d be stressed about.”
She shot him a small smile. “Right.”
“Seriously. It happens to a lot of people. My cousin’s husband used to be a cop. Four years ago, he had to shoot a guy who pulled a gun on him. He says he still dreams about that night.”
“I’m sorry. That’s an awful thing to have to do.” She fell silent for a moment. She put her hand on the handle but didn’t open the door. “What’s taking him so long?”
“He’s being careful. Hey.” He waited until her eyes met his. “I hope this isn’t a dumb question in light of the circumstances, but what’s wrong—besides the obvious?”
Her lips flattened and she turned to gaze at her home once more. “It’s my house, but it’s not now.”
“Sorry?”
She jabbed a finger at her home. “That looks like my house, but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It feels . . . weird. And . . . scary. And not a place I want to be.” She paused. “I feel like things are rolling out of control and I don’t know how to make it stop. And it’s just about to send me over the edge.”
That was a real struggle for her to admit and he’d confess he was a bit surprised that she did. “Are you sure someone was in there? Because when we stopped by to look for you, everything appeared fine.”
She scowled. “I’m sure. It was little stuff. Subtle things that you wouldn’t realize were out of place, but yes, someone was definitely there.”
When Caden appeared at the front door and waved a hand, Heather pushed out of the truck and Travis did the same. She shoved her blonde hair from her face, and the wind whipped it right back into her eyes. “He doesn’t look very happy,” she said.
“No, he doesn’t.” Travis glanced around the area. After everything that had happened, he wouldn’t be surprised to see someone lurking in the bushes—or catch sight of a sniper rifle aimed her way. He stayed as close to her as possible, shielding her from anyone who might be out of his visual range.
She gave him a distracted glance as she stepped into her kitchen.
Caden stopped her. “Prepare yourself. It’s been tossed,” he said. “Mostly the den and the bedrooms.”
“What?” Heather gaped at him for a brief moment, then pushed past him.
“Heather, wait!” Travis went after her and caught her at the doorway. “Don’t go rushing in there. It’s a crime scene.”
Caden caught up to them. “I’ve already called the local police. They’re on the way.”
“They’ll take prints and stuff?” Heather asked.
“If they don’t, I will. I can’t tell that anything was stolen. Looks more like the person was looking for something.”
“But . . . what?” Heather asked. “
I don’t have anything worth stealing except for a few electronics.”
“Television was still there and so was your laptop. That’s why I think the person was looking for something. This wasn’t just a thief breaking in to find something to pawn.”
“A stalker would go for something more personal,” Travis said, “if he was looking for a . . . souvenir.”
She grimaced and anger surged at the invasion of her life.
When the officers arrived, they introduced themselves as Billy Norman and Marie Howell, then walked with Heather into the den. Travis followed silently. The room was a mess. Drawers pulled and dumped, sofa cushions on the floor.
Her breath caught and Travis touched her arm. She ignored him and continued to study her living area, her spine growing more stiff with each passing second. “I don’t see anything missing in here.” She spun and beelined for the refrigerator, stopping in front of it. “It’s really not there.”
“The picture?”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around her middle.
“I told you it wasn’t here when we searched your home shortly after you disappeared.”
“Right. So, the person who was here that night took it.”
“And returned to do this after we’d already come here looking for you,” Travis said.
“Why is it still cold in here?” Heather muttered.
“You pay the bill?” Gavin asked from the doorway. Officer Norman waited behind him, eyes bouncing from one person to the next.
“Of course,” Heather said. “It’s on autopay.”
Gavin headed for the thermostat, and Travis walked through the kitchen into the den. He paused, returned to the kitchen, then back to the den.
Heather followed him this time. “What is it?”
“It’s noticeably colder in here than the kitchen. By several degrees.”
Gavin nodded. “The thermostat’s set on seventy. The door to your bedroom was closed, and when I went in there, it was comfortably warm—also trashed, but warm. I don’t think anything’s wrong with your furnace.”
“Great.” She paused. “I never shut my bedroom door. When I got home that night, besides the chill in the house throwing me off, when I walked toward the hallway, my bedroom door was cracked. I knew I hadn’t left it that way, so that meant someone had been in there—or still was.”
Travis squeezed her hand. “So you left.”
“In a hurry. I still don’t know how the person got in without setting off my alarm, though. I never got a notification on my phone about it being disarmed.”
“I might have an answer for you.” Travis stepped toward the French doors that led to her deck and looked out. Just beyond the deck was a backyard lined with trees that hid a wrought iron fence encircling the property. “The wind is really blowing out there today.”
“You a weatherman now?” Caden asked.
“Shut up.” Travis didn’t change his tone from the calm thoughtfulness he’d started with. “Listen for a second.”
They fell quiet. Then Gavin frowned. Cocked his head. “Hey, you hear that?”
Travis nodded. “A low whistle?”
Heather frowned. “I’ve never noticed that before. Where’s that coming from?”
“Here.” Travis stepped left and rapped on the window next to the French doors. He placed a hand on the edge of the glass. Cold air blasted his palm. “Wow. Feel that.”
Heather stepped over to mimic him. She gasped. “What in the world?”
Travis dropped to his knees to study the pane. What he saw chilled him more than the cold air. “Well, I know how your intruder got in without setting off the alarm.”
“What?”
“So, your windows are armed, but the alarm will go off only if the frame connection is broken. Your intruder knew that and decided to be clever. Gavin, you got your gloves on you?”
“Of course.”
“Put them on and go outside and catch the pane.”
Gavin met his eyes and understanding dawned. While Travis pulled a glove onto his right hand, Gavin slipped out the door and around to stand with his hand next to the glass. Travis gave it a light tap and the pane landed safely in Gavin’s outstretched hand.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Heather gaped. “Someone cut the pane of glass out of my window and then just stuck it back in there?”
Even the two officers, still patiently waiting for her to finish walking through the rest of her house, had raised their brows.
“Yep.” Gavin readjusted the pane back into place, then rejoined them. “We’ll need to get that bagged and see if someone can get some prints off of it.”
“I’ll do it.” Officer Howell headed to get the items she’d need.
“You have anything in your garage we can use to cover the window?” Caden asked.
“I think so,” Heather said. “But you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of it.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, and she held her hands up in surrender.
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” It was hard to let someone else do for her. But she was going to have to try. “There’s some plywood, I think. Or we can use some of the plastic left over from when I painted my kitchen.”
“I’ll get the plastic for now. Hopefully we can get someone out here to fix the window before too long.”
Caden left and Heather shook her head. “This is unbelievable,” she muttered. She ran a hand over her hair and pulled the strands into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck. “I noticed the chill when I got home that night.” She closed her eyes, going back to the moment she’d stepped into her house from the party. “It was colder in here. Much colder. I checked the thermostat and walked through the house. Most of it anyway.” She paused and opened her eyes. “The windowpane had to have been out when I got here.” A shiver danced up her spine. “But wouldn’t I have noticed a missing window?”
“Maybe,” Travis said. “Maybe not. What was your state of mind when you got home?”
Heather grimaced. “I was . . . unsettled, irritated. Angry at myself for a few things. But I noticed the chill as soon as I walked in the door.”
“So you were distracted, and your curtains were closed. Easy to miss, especially since you weren’t here long.”
Heather rubbed a hand over her face. “It doesn’t matter at this point. It’s clear that whoever took it out had to have been here when I got home.”
“Which means it’s a good thing you left when you did.”
“My nerves were screaming at me. I had to get away. I grabbed some cash I had hidden in my kitchen cabinet and bolted. I hit the ATM for more once I decided no one had followed me.”
Travis narrowed his eyes. “And you didn’t call the cops about the picture.”
Her gaze slid to the refrigerator. “Yes. The one that’s not there anymore.”
“The person who took it had to know someone would come looking for you,” Travis said. “Guess they didn’t want anyone else seeing it.”
“Guess not.”
“Excuse me,” Officer Norman interrupted. “I’m actually finding all of this fascinating, but do you think we could finish the walk-thru?”
Heather blinked. “I’m sorry. Of course.” The officer led the way to her bedroom. Travis and Gavin followed. The door was now open, and she entered the room that had once been her haven. Her escape from the pressures of a high-stress job. Someone had been in here when she’d arrived home from the party that night. What if she’d ignored her instincts? Would she have found the person?
Probably.
And might not have lived to talk about it.
Travis stepped up behind her.
“He was trying to isolate me,” she said, her voice low. “He’s been following me, letting me catch a glimpse of him every now and then. Making sure I was off my game, trying to unsettle me, make me think I was crazy or overreacting. Then he planned to strike. Isn’t that what stalkers try to do to their victims?�
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“Sometimes.”
“It worked. I fell for it. He didn’t want me asking for help, so he threatened my friends.” She paused. “But you know what’s really scary? He knew I wouldn’t involve you—the people I was close to. Which means he’s gotten to know me.” How long had he been watching her before planning to break into her house?
“But he didn’t know you’d run.”
She stilled. “No. He expected me to walk into my bedroom.” A shudder rippled through her at the images that sprang to mind.
“But you didn’t.” He rubbed a hand up and down her arm, and Heather took comfort in the contact.
“So, now that I’m back—and his little attempt to snatch me failed—I guess I get to keep looking over my shoulder.”
“Well, the good thing is, now you have other people looking over it too.”
She swallowed the sudden surge of emotion and tried to get everything back into the neat little mental box where she kept things like fear, worry, and anger. “I appreciate that.” She pointed. “Someone opened the drawers and didn’t close them all the way. I’d never leave them like that.”
Officer Howell nodded to her partner. “Let’s dust this room and the refrigerator for prints, along with the window frame and the French doors. I brought the kit in when I got the bag for the windowpane.”
“I’ll get it,” Officer Norman said.
Caden’s phone rang as Travis and Gavin escorted her from the house back to wait near his truck.
“So, if I lost my stalker by running, how did he find me after this long?”
Travis rubbed a hand over his chin. “Had to be Caden. Somehow, he led them to you.”
A throat clearing caught her attention. Caden stood in the doorway. “I didn’t lead them to you. Travis did.” He held up a small button-shaped item clutched between gloved forefinger and thumb.
Travis sucked in an audible breath. “What?”
“I don’t know how this person knew you’d be the one to track her down, but this is how they found her.”
“You got that off of my truck?”
“I did.” He held out his other hand, palm up. Two more matching trackers rested there. “And these off of Gavin’s and mine.”
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