Page 9 of The Quiet Witness

She tried to hide it, the way her legs shook like pudding with fear thrumming through every fiber of her being. But they got her to the porch, just five steps up.

It took her longer than she dared admit, part stalling, part the numbness that was slowly taking over. The wood groaned beneath her weight. Warning the owner of her arrival.

Just like it had at… well, home. The word didn’t fit, it never had. But what other word could she use to describe where she’d spent most of her childhood?

Nothing to reminisce on now, the house awaited. Inside, the lights were beckoning at her, Come in, come in! While a hint of warmth brushed up against her numb cheeks.

One final glance over her shoulder showed the car she’d been in, a black Volvo, sitting deserted on the near-endless driveway. Hedges of frost laden roses half obscuring it. The moon, a sliver of silver in the sky, seemed to stare down on her.

If she had been as religious as her foster family, this would have been a perfect moment to send up words of prayer. But she’d long since lost the faith, and so without further ado, she stepped into the house.

***

No blood coated the grey concrete flooring, no marks of cruelty littered the house. But there was a… wolf?!

The large beast approached her, nails clicking lightly over the floor. Its amber eyes were fixed on her, fur as white as the winter wonderland outside. Kate froze. Arms hanging by her side. Trying to appear as non-threatening as she could.

Is this the way he’s going to get rid of me?

The animal was nearly upon her now, chin raised high, sniffing the fresh meat that had landed on its doorstep. There it was. Kate’s eyes closed on instinct, until… soft fur grazed her fingers. The wolf’s large head pushed underneath her hand in an invitation.

“Hmmm, seems like you’ve made yourself a friend.’’ The killer remarked, but she barely heard it.

Carefully she grazed through the hairy coat, getting another little nudge in return.

Those eyes… they betrayed intelligence. But not just that, her chest lit up, a glow spreading throughout her core. It saw her.

She bent down on one knee, a chuckle escaping her as the wolf flung itself against her. Kate braced a hand on the floor, desperately clinging to her balance. While her lips did something they hadn’t done in a long, long while. The corners of her mouth sore but they expanded into a… smile.

A question rolled off her tongue, too fast for her to swallow. “What is it? A wolf or?’’

A laugh erupted from the man. “A wolf? No. Though I can see the comparison with him.’’

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms braced in front of him. “Ghost is a dog, a very large one at that.’’

Ghost. Yes, the name was right. She could imagine how the dog, still leaning heavily against her legs, was able to become one with the outside decor.

‘‘You must be some animal lover.’’ At her questioning glance he clarified. “He isn’t really a people-dog.’’ The man chuckled at his own quip. “He’s more of an introvert you see.’’ He raised his eyebrows as Ghost wrapped himself around her leg.

For a second her muscles had found relief. But then reality knocked on her mind’s door.

There must be something wrong with me. Cuddling with a killer’s dog. In his house for goodness sake.

She pushed up, trembling with the effort while Ghost padded off, tail wiggling excitedly when her would-be killer bent down to cuddle the dog under his chin. Guess the tales about animals sensing intent were a myth. He probably held the dog in his pocket with treats. Jep, that must be it.

Time to see what we’re working with here.

Oddly, there were no windows allowing light to slip in from the front of the house. But at the side was an entire wall made up of glass, and a grand piano sat waiting in front of it, gleaming in the light of the moon. A Steinway… her fingers itched. She’d never played any instrument, but there had always been that dream. And aside from it, even worse. Rows and rows of books. Stacked tightly against each other, even on top of each other.

As if there would never be enough space. Something Kate could agree with.

Open space everywhere her head swiveled to. Seven stoves graced the middle of the kitchen, silver handles polished clean, white marble topped the island with a fruit basket placed neatly in the center. A working space most chefs would be jealous of.

And so clean it might as well have been staged.

Seemed like his career choices kept him well fed, which could only mean her family’s demise was a paid job. Something to circle back to later, when their killer wasn’t clocking her every move. He was watching her closely with the black bags resting at his feet.

Her shoulders straightened up, chin lifting under his scrutiny. She felt like a doll, one where you pull on the string to see what it does. The warmth she’d felt earlier left behind a hollow cave of uncertainty.