Page 35 of In the Dead of Night

Sara paused long enough to utter a mental warning to herself. Looping the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she dashed from the house and ran toward her car. Her breath caught in her throat when she spotted the red lettering on the driver’s window:

You don’t belong here.

It was anger that struck her this time. Not giving herself time to debate, she set off at a dead run after the culprit. Intellectually, she knew running after a potentially dangerous man was a crazy thing to do. But she was tired of the threats. Tired of letting him yank her chain. And damn tired of being frightened. As she tore around the side of the house, she rationalized that if he had truly wanted to hurt her, he’d had ample opportunity.

She clung to that thought as she blew by the deck at the rear. She started toward the stairs that would take her to the beach, but spotted footprints in the sandy soil leading north, parallel with the beach. A split second decision and she was running along the rocks.

Toward Skeeter’s cottage, a little voice whispered.

She didn’t want to believe that. Skeeter was strange, but she’d adored him since she’d been a child. But the more rational side of her brain reminded her that sometimes even good people did bad things if pushed far enough.

Wind from the sea tore at her face and clothes as she ran. Icy rain soaked her clothes. But Sara didn’t stop. She didn’t know what she was going to do if she caught up. Get a look at his face so she could identify him for the police. She didn’t think beyond that.

Two hundred yards from the house, the land dropped away into a narrow gorge that caught rain and fed it to the ocean. Standing on the brink, she caught a glimpse of the dark raincoat midway to the ravine floor.

“Stop!” she shouted.

The man glanced back, but didn’t stop. Why is he running? Why not stop and make a stand? The questions propelled her forward. She went into the ravine at a dangerous speed, her shoes slipping on moss-covered rocks and sliding in mud. Somehow she managed to maintain her footing.

The trees seemed to swallow her, engulfing her in shadows. Pausing at the foot of the ravine, she looked around, caught a glimpse of the dark figure struggling up the other side. “Wait!” Sara shouted. “I want to talk to you!”

The figure continued climbing up the steep slope. Sara sprinted after him, negotiating around trees and rocks the size of small cars. At the rim, she paused, breathless, the muscles in her legs burning.

Rain slashed down from a slate sky. To her left, at the bottom of the rocky cliff, the ocean roiled and churned. Wiping wet hair from her eyes, she started toward the rocks for a better vantage point. She used her hands and climbed to the top. For an instant, the view took her breath away. Even frightened and soaked to the skin, she couldn’t help but marvel at the hostile beauty of the sea and the violence with which it met the land.

She was in the process of reaching for her cell phone to call Nick again when movement from directly behind her spun her around. Too late she realized her mistake. She caught a glimpse of a dark raincoat, shiny and wet. The figure launched at her. Sara knew what he was going to do and tried to drop to the ground to avoid it. But she wasn’t fast enough. He hit her with both hands hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

A scream tore from her throat.

And then she was falling into space….

* * *

NICK DIALED Sara’s number for the third time and cursed when she didn’t answer. She’d sounded frightened in her message. I’m at the house. There’s someone here. Gotta go. I’ll call you right back.

Her words had lodged a chill at the base of his spine.

What the hell was she thinking, going to the house alone after everything that had happened? Damn crazy woman.

His cruiser slid sideways as he sped into the driveway. He stopped behind her rental car and slammed it into gear. Shoving open the door, he hit the ground running.

He saw something scrawled in red on her driver’s-side window. The letters were nearly washed away by the rain, but he was able to make out the words:

You don’t belong here.

He sprinted to the front door. A layer of cold fear settled over him when he found it ajar. Bursting inside, he stopped in the foyer. “Sara!”

He ran to the kitchen, shouting her name. He couldn’t help but think this house had seen more than its share of death. In his mind’s eye, he saw her sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood, the way she’d found her parents. The ensuing rush of terror nearly paralyzed him.

Spinning away from the kitchen, he dashed down the hall and took the steps two at a time to the top. “Sara! Damn it, answer me!”

The fear was making him angry. Angry at Sara for being so irresponsible. Angry at the son of a bitch who’d targeted her. Nick checked the rooms, but knew he wouldn’t find her. The house was empty. Where the hell had she gone?

Frantic now, he stumbled down the steps and ran out the front door. He warned himself to stay calm. As a cop he knew a cool head was his best tool in a situation like this.

But this was personal. And in that moment the fear had a death grip on his throat. For the span of several rapid-fire heartbeats, he stood in the driveway, barely noticing the rain soaking him. Where the hell was she?

“Sara!”