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When I open the door, Casper is standing on the step, scowling. His tall frame fills the doorway, or maybe it’s because he’s thrown me off guard that he seems to fill every millimetre of space.
“Was that noise you?” he asks.
“Yes, I often go into the garden and—”
“All right, give it a fucking rest,” he snaps, pushing past me.
Do come in.
Prick.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I think it came from your back garden. I’m going to see.”
I follow him through the house, which doesn’t take long since it’s not that big.
“I was just about to do that,” I call after him. “Go home and I’ll tell you if I find anything. Casper.”
His garden is next to mine, which means he could look over the fence from his.
He opens the back door, ignoring me, and ignoring Freya telling him to be careful. He steps into our postage-stamp sized garden. It’s just big enough for a table and chairs, and to store Freya’s bike.
“Ainsley, stay inside,” Freya says.
“It’s fine.”
I’m not letting him go out there alone, making me the damsel in distress. If he hadn’t knocked, I would already be out there myself.
Casper turns to me as I walk outside. The air is cold and smells like it’s about to rain. It’s one of my favourite scents, and mixed with Casper…
Nope. Not going there.
“What is it?” I ask.
He moves to the side, and I see the little, wooden bistro set Imani bought last summer lying on its side—one of the chairs completely broken.
“Ah, no, Imani loves that table. Could it have been a deer?”
“Someone probably jumped the fence and landed on it,” Casper says.
“Why?”
“The burglaries. Go back inside.”
“No one’s here.”
His jaw twitches. “Go inside.”
“You think someone was going to rob us? We were home.”
“Get in the house, for fuck’s sake!”
“They won’t still be here, stress head.”
“What’s going on?” Freya asks from the doorway, scowling at Casper.
“Someone broke the table,” I tell her. “Casper thinks they jumped over the fence not expecting it to be there.”
