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Me:Still don’t have my house.
Trev:Damn, you’re losing your touch.
Me:Fuck off.
I notice some movement out of the corner of my eye, and I realize it’s Creeper Dude. He’s not looking my way. Instead, he’s rummaging around in the yard. He’s a vacation renter, so why would he be fucking with that kind of stuff? Whatever he’s up to, he does look a little shifty. I think he’s just one of those guys that looks shifty even if they aren’t up to anything. Serial killers rarely look like people think they will.
He tosses a look at the house. I immediately step back. Stupid, I know, because I have every right to stand at my door and look out. I watch from the side, hoping he doesn’t see me creeping on him. The malevolent look he gives the house is…well, it’s weird. I mean, who looks at a house like that? Especially one he has never been in. The Howards have owned this house for over half a century, so there is no way he has been in here. I pull up my phone and take a pic of him, hoping he doesn’t see me.
He doesn’t respond, so I let loose a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I look down at the photo. It’s not that great, but it’s a picture I can use. After he stares long and hard, he turns and lumbers back into the house. I stand there, thinking of how he looked at the house and Avery’s comments about the man.
I do have friends at the FBI, but I want to do a little checking on him myself before I go to any of them. I call my investigator.
“Howard, how’s tricks,” Sam Dixon says, his Long Island accent making me smile.
“Not bad. I have another person I want you to look up.”
“Don’t tell me your mom dumped that football player. He seems like a nice guy. I emailed you the report.”
I had seen it in my email inbox but hadn’t read it.
“I’ll look it over as soon as I can. I have an issue in Juniper, though, nothing to do with my mother.”
“That Avery O’Bryan? She’s clean.”
“Yeah, no. There’s something else that has come up. I have a sketchy renter behind me, and I want him checked out.”
“Shoot.”
“His name is Norman Adams. I would say he’s in his thirties, although it’s hard to tell.”
“Got it. Nothing else, other than he’s renting a house you own.”
“Nope. He’s behind mine, and he’s…a little sketchy.”
There’s a bad vibe about the man. I know that most people would think I’ve lost my mind, but I just don’t like the look of the man. I hate to admit it, but Avery might be on to something.
“Got it. I’ll start looking through his life. Or at least try to find him. Call me if you can get anything else, a driver’s license, a social security number, or anything else. You know that makes it faster.”
“I’m going to send you a pic, although it’s not that good.”
“That will help. Later.”
Then he hangs up. Having someone who works for me and isn’t a yes-man is nice. He does his job, but he doesn’t give a shit that I ownLone Star Techor that I’m a Howard fromthatHoward family in Texas. All he cares about is getting paid to do a job he loves.
After slipping my phone back into my pocket, I decide to get back to work. I always thrive on long work hours, and yes, I know I have a problem. But as I head back into my office, I realize it isn’t as exciting as it used to be.
It’sthe following day before Avery gets home. She apparently decided to stay in San Antonio for a second night. She didn’t tell me, but I saw it on the JSE. Rude.
But I’m surprised she’s walking into the house at ten in the morning. It means she had to get up before eight to make it here because she is a bottomless pit and would not leave a house without food—unless she had been promised food.
The clatter of little feet and excited voices is what gets my attention. I leave my office and see Sammy and Callie running down the hallway. Meredith is following in their footsteps.
“Kids, don’t run in the house. I’ve told you this a hundred times,” Liv says, but her voice has no real heat. Only exasperated affection. She reminds him of his mom.
“Hey, Jon, I’m sorry for the intrusion,” she says. “Avery promised the kids could go in the backyard. They love it.”
I nod. “No problem.”
