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“Hey, wait! You can’t—”
The machine clicked as someone hung up.
Katie’s stomach curled, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. “Who was that?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Luke scanned the desk area. “Just about everyone you know was at Bliss’s wedding tonight, right?”
“Of course, but—”
“So who would have expected you to be home?”
“No one,” she thought aloud, her skin crawling at the thought that someone might actually be watching her. “You think it might have something to do with the letter?”
“I don’t know. It could be just a mistake, a wrong number, but it might be a crank—either this Wells character or someone looking for him.” His gaze fastened on hers. He was stone-cold sober. “But your door was unlocked. Someone could have been in here.”
Her knees threatened to give way at the thought.
She laughed a little nervously. “I can’t believe—”
“Sure you can. Now take a look around. Does anything seem out of place?”
Walking slowly through her few cluttered rooms, she eyed her belongings, touched a few pieces of furniture and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was just as she and Josh had left it when they had rushed out of the house and into J.D.’s Jeep. She would have sworn that, out of habit more than anything else, she had locked the door behind her.
“Nothing seems to be missing or out of place,” she told Luke.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure.”
“Would your dog have allowed anyone inside?”
“Probably, but I don’t really think anyone was here,” she said, though she had a severe case of the creeps. Thinking that an intruder, a stranger, had been in her house—in Josh’s room, for crying out loud—caused a chill in her blood as cold as all November.
“Maybe you should call the police.”
“And tell them what? That I left the door unlocked? That I think someone was in here, but nothing is missing or out of place, that someone has been calling and hanging up? What could they possibly do?”
“Stake out the place?”
“On what? Your hunch? Just because I got a letter from Isaac Wells?”
“Yes.”
She almost laughed. “Even in a small town like Bittersweet, the police have better things to do.”
Scowling, he paced to the front window and stared through the plate glass to the yard. Even with the glow of the street lamp at the corner, it was dark. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. There’s nothing anyone can do.”
“Sure, there is,” he said, slowly turning to face her. “I can stay here.”
“What?” Was he out of his mind? “Here? No way.” She couldn’t believe her ears. Although a secret little part of her was pleased, the other saner, more rational side of her nature was scared to death.
“On the couch.”
“I don’t want a bodyguard!” she snapped, throwing up a hand. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. It’s…it’s ridiculous.”
“I don’t think so.” He was firm, his jaw set, his gaze steady. He looked like a man who wouldn’t be swayed. But the thought of him in the house alone with her, even on the couch, was unnerving. “I’ll be fine. Blue’s here with me.”
