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I took the gun by the handle and turned away from her to slip it inside a kitchen drawer. It was a tiny little feminine handgun. No way was it Hank’s service gun.
Together we shuffled down the hall and I got her back into her bed after a stop at the bathroom.
“Nice to see a pretty face around here,” she said, blinking sleepily as I pulled her covers up. “Do you know my son?”
“I do. He’s about the best man in Austin, if you ask me.”
She smiled. “You should tell him.”
“I will.”
I switched off her light and closed the door. What a damn night. When it rains life threatening events, it pours. I unlocked the front door for Hank, gathered my things, and found his bedroom.
In all the years that we’d been neighbors, I’d never actually stepped into his bedroom. It was tidy, his double bed made up with a brown and blue quilt, a rag rug on the clean floor, and framed national park posters on the wall.
I’d always thought he would do something scientific or outdoorsy for a career. After he’d gone off to college, I hadn’t seen him much. Five years older is a bridge uncrossable romantically when you’re a teenager, for a boy with a conscience. I’d been as flamboyant as a peacock that I liked him.
There was a big bulletin board covered in a collage of pictures and memorabilia. My breath caught—I was in several spots on that board, one of them a newspaper cutout from when I’d placed in a pageant. There was the valentineI’d given him as a sappy fourteen-year-old, with my school photo in the middle. In the center of the board was a pinned photo of Hank and my brother, with me photobombing the boys. I’d run in and thrown my arms around Hank’s side, squeezing him hard and smiling big at the camera while he’d glared down at me.
Not that I’d ever confess to it, but I’m a nosy person. I wandered around his room opening drawers, reading his book titles, and running my hands over his old shirts in the closet. He favored woodsy scents like cedar and spruce. I did my best to distract myself from the fact that someone had just tried to kill me.
After an hour had passed, I crept out to the living room and peeped through the curtains. Crime scene tape surrounded my parents’ house. I didn’t see Hank, but a handful of people stood around the yard, the scene lit up by the firetruck and police cars parked in the street.
I dropped onto a couch and put my head in my hands. All the threats and hate messages hadn’t seemed real—I’d hoped none of it was really that serious. There wasn’t any doubting anymore. I really did have violent stalkers and they wanted to murder me.
Another hour passed and Hank didn’t return. My mama had kept me on a strict morning schedule while growing up and it had stuck. It would be a minor miracle if I made it to midnight.
I drank some water, cleaned up as best I could in the bathroom, and peeped in on Ms. Bridger, who was sound asleep. After one last look at my phone, I curled up under Hank’s quilt and closed my eyes.
At some point during the night, Hank came in and I cracked my eyes open. He told me to go back to sleep and I did. Get me super exhausted and I’m almost sweetly docile.When I woke up, he was asleep next to me, turned on his side with his back facing me.
There was a moment of disorientation. How had I gotten in Hank’s bed? Then I remembered the attack. I was leaving and Hank belonged in Austin. He had a career, a house, a very sick mother who he cared for. Still, he drew me like a warm fire in a snowstorm and I moved forward so that I could plaster myself against his back.
I kissed his shoulder. His gray T-shirt was soft against my mouth. Maybe it was so easy because I was leaving. Mostly though, Hank made it simple. We were finally both adults, single, and together in a dim bedroom. Of course I wanted him. I’d always wanted him.
He groaned. “Sally, you aren’t ready for this.”
I took a deep breath and pressed my forehead against his shoulder. “Okay, maybe you’re right. If it was anyone else, besides you, I wouldn’t be ready—for more than sex. I like to screw, Hank. A lot.”
He turned around and wrapped his arms around me. “You’re going to kill me.” Our legs entwined through each other’s. “And the morning caregiver is going to be here any minute.”
“Well, she’ll survive if she notices anything.”
“I took some time off work. We need to get you out of here. These people seem to be using a lot of resources to watch you—they left a message, on the brick that was thrown through a window. It said, ‘We know you’re there.’”
“They must have set something up in the greenbelt.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” He shivered a little as I nuzzled into his neck. “Stop that.” He squeezed me tighter. “I want to get to Albuquerque today. If they knew you were still at your house, then they know you’re here. We’ll go to the airport first and rent a car. Do everything we can to hide your trail.”
I bit his neck. He groaned then pushed the long hardlength bulging between us firmly against my crotch. I hummed in happy delight.
Someone banged on the door. “Who is that? Who’s in there?” It was Hank’s mother, who was no doubt an early riser if she was put to bed at nine p.m.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m your son, Hank.”
“Hank?” She rattled the door. “Why is this door locked?”
That question pretty much answered itself. “I’m coming, Mom, be there in one minute. Why don’t you go sit in the kitchen while I make your tea?”
