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A half hour later, Killian finished his interior inspection, checked his emails—twice—and had drunk two cups of coffee. Still no Anne. But the damn cat he chased in and out of the house when Anne was in the hospital wound itself around his ankles like they were best friends. However, when he leaned over to pet her, she ran away. Tease.
Anne’s bedroom door was still closed. She must be exhausted, he thought. He turned on a game.
Another hour passed. Now it was early afternoon. Anne still hadn’t come out of the bedroom.
Killian got concerned. He had to check on her. Maybe she had a relapse and needed to go back to the hospital?
He quietly opened her bedroom door and looked in.
The bed had been slept in.
But where was Anne?
* * *
Anne couldn’t breathe. Whoever was in her house was quiet, that’s for sure. A while ago, she’d heard a car drive up, heard footsteps outside going around her house, listened to the front door open and someone rifle around her kitchen.
Oh God.
The man who hurt her and Silas had returned. Her heart raced with fear.
She jumped out of bed, undecided what to do. She glanced around for her cell phone, but of all the luck, the phone was nowhere to be found. Anne mentally slapped her head. She left it in the kitchen where it would be no help to her.
Silas! She had to find him. He couldn’t go through this again. Could she leave the bedroom, get him, and sneak out of the house?
Then she remembered Marlee had picked him up earlier to take him to school. Whew, that was a relief.
She would not be helpless this time. Maybe she didn’t have her phone or a gun or knife—hell, anything to protect herself. However, this time she’d fight harder, smarter. If only her body would stop trembling.
Anne looked around her bedroom for some sort of weapon—nothing. She sure couldn’t pick up her reading chair and throw it at him. The floor lamp was too bulky, and there was nothing in the bathroom to help her. She could squirt mousse at him or throw a bar of soap. Neither of which would stop a boy, let alone a full-grown man.
She checked in a drawer and spotted the can of hair spray. She picked it up. It might work, at least stop him for a minute, give her time to run out. It was better than nothing.
Should she sneak out, surprise the man, and spray him?
That was stupid. The only thing that would accomplish would probably make him madder. Her stomach roiled. No way was he hurting her again.
The closet! She could hide in there. Hopefully, he’d get bored and leave. Silas wouldn’t be home for hours. Marlee promised to pick him up after school and bring him to the park.
Anne quietly slid the closet door to one side. She cocked her head to listen. No one was coming. She heard the TV. The man was still in the house.
The closet wasn’t deep, but she stepped in and burrowed into some clothes. Her hands trembled as she pulled down a few dresses to cover herself further. Her breath came in quick huffs, and she exhaled deeply to calm herself. Silas needed her. She needed to keep herself safe for him, so she waited, listened, and prayed that she could protect herself.
Hurting another human being was not part of her makeup, but the man had hurt her and someone she loved, so all bets were off.
* * *
The bed had been slept in, the covers tossed aside.
Killian reached over and felt the sheets—still warm.
Where was Anne?
He walked back out of the bedroom to check the office and Silas’s room. She hadn’t passed him to get out, and no windows were opened, so she hadn’t left. Great. Some security guard he was. He lost the client already.
Killian walked back into the bedroom. He checked underneath the bed and in the bathroom. No Anne.
He stood silently, looked around and quieted his breathing.
