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“Okay, I thought I saw a movement outside”—she motioned with her hand—“but as I’ve said...”
Before she’d finished speaking, he’d put the bag with lunch down and headed outside. Crouching down close to the window she’d pointed to, he inspected the area outside.
And there it was—the evidence they’d been looking for. Below the window, in the flower bed, were the indentations of fresh shoe prints. There weren’t any other prints around. Someone had stood right here, watching Lindsay. Cold fury leaped up, but he pushed it down, and straightening, he took out his phone and dialed Jason’s number.
“Did you find anything?” Lindsay spoke while he was waiting for Jason to answer. She was standing in the door, chewing her lip, looking heartbreakingly beautiful.
He shook his head, not even sure what she’d asked. As she headed back into the shop, Jason finally answered his call.Focus on the task at hand.And the task at hand was protecting Lindsay. Not lusting after her.
––––––––
By the time they arrivedback home, Lindsay looked pale. She kept rubbing her temple; she was probably experiencing the beginnings of a headache.
Jason had agreed to find out to whom the number plates were registered, so at least now Blake could concentrate on keeping Lindsay safe. Not that she was making it easy.
He’d wanted to get her back to her house, but she’d insisted on finishing filling the jars with the last batch of creams she’d made, and they’d worked in silence until she was happy. Why the hell it couldn’t be done later, he had no idea, but he’d given up long ago trying to understand the workings of the female mind.
He for one was glad they’d left the small, intimate studio. Working so close to her, surrounded by the flowery scent that always seemed to accompany her, made it extremely difficult to concentrate on anything else.
This time, he was quick enough to open the car door for her.
“Do you want to go out tonight?” he asked when they reached the front door.
She shook her head while unlocking the door.
“I bought steaks earlier and can do those over the grill if you like?” he asked when they’d entered the house.
She nodded. “Okay. Please let me pay half?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What would you like with it?”
“I’ll do something with potatoes. I just want to have a shower...”
The groan slipped out before he could stop it. Startled blue eyes looked up at him before she turned around and jogged up the stairs.
Damn. Exhaling slowly, he opened the front door again and walked around the house. Picturing a naked Lindsay in the shower came way too easily to mind.
It was already dark. For a few minutes, he stood at the back of the house, focusing on his breathing, hoping to get the rhythm of his heart back to normal.
He bent down and checked the pane of the window he’d replaced earlier that day. The light at the back of the house was bright enough. At the time, he’d also looked around on the ground outside the window but he hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary. There were no footprints, no indication anyone had stood there before the stone had been thrown through the window.
He wanted to do something—break, kick, hit. That was what he was good at. Waiting, playing cat and mouse, was part of the job, something he’d had to get used to, but he hated the frustration. Especially now, because Lindsay was involved.
It was fast becoming clear to him Taylor was a shrewd and probably unhinged adversary. And as he knew from experience, those were the deadliest.
Taylor seemed to disappear into thin air after every incident. They’d caught the guy who’d hit Charlie months earlier and he was awaiting trial, but not talking, so there was nothing the police could find to link the man to Mark Taylor, and as far as he knew, the police had dropped the matter.
But Blake had asked his informant to keep checking flights from South Africa. And when he’d received the message Taylor had boarded a plane heading first to Houston, then to Seattle, he knew his gut feeling had been right.
But the man seemed to be two steps ahead of them all the time. The police couldn’t find the green car he’d seen yesterday, but today a faded blue one had been parked in front of Lindsay’s shop. Although he hadn’t seen Taylor, he just knew he was the one who’d been trying to get to Lindsay. And by tomorrow he’d probably have a different car again.
So far nobody had been able to get a trace of him. The shoe marks he’d found at the back of Lindsay’s shop had been the first real, tangible evidence. Since yesterday, the police had scoured the town and the neighboring areas, but they hadn’t found the green car or the man yet.
Hopefully now that Jason had agreed to help him, they could get this guy. That was what his phone call earlier to Jason had been about. His friend had promised to get forensics to analyze the footprints, as well.
Taylor’s plan to scare and keep Lindsay on edge was working, and he hated that.
He turned his head and listened. Evenings in Alisson were quiet, he’d discovered in the short time he’d spent here previously. He could hear the odd vehicle now and then. Behind the curtains of the houses on either side of this one, there was movement, but otherwise it was quiet.
