“Six days ago, the mother put the child down for a nap and lay down herself. When she woke up, Lily was gone.”

“Where was the boyfriend?”

“He claims he loaded their Christmas tree in the back of his truck and went to get rid of it.”

“No one can confirm his whereabouts during that time?”

“He took police to where he dumped the tree, but there’s no way of telling how long he was gone.”

“No one saw him?”

“He purposely avoided being seen. He didn’t want to get fined for dumping the tree on private property.”

Crossing the room, Skye tried to lower the blind at the window but couldn’t get the knot out of the cord. She’d tied it earlier, when she’d been trying to get the damn thing to stay up. “No evidence of an intruder at the house?”

“No forced entry. But the doors weren’t locked, so anyone could’ve walked in. The only clue is an odd-size footprint in the mud near the front walkway.”

Skye glared at the water-streaked window with the broken blind. She wanted that blind down. It felt like someone was out there, watching her. But she knew she was just letting the old fear get to her again. Burke’s release was hitting her hard, making her regress. It’s a kitchen window. A lot of people don’t even put blinds on a kitchen window. “What’s odd about the size of the footprint?”

“It’s too small for the boyfriend and too big for the mother.”

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“What about a serviceman, the postman, the meter reader?”

“The mother says there hasn’t been anyone else at the house for days, yet it’s a fresh print.”

“That is strange.”

“They’re taking impressions. We’ll see if we can find a match.”

Skye’s call-waiting beeped, and she frowned in surprise. It was after midnight on a Monday night. Who would be calling so late? She would’ve checked the caller ID, but it didn’t register a second caller’s number when she was already on the phone.

Assuming it was one of her stepsisters, she asked Jasmine to hold for a minute and switched over. “Hello?”

There was a long pause.

“Hello?” she said again.

“Skye Kellerman?”

The deep voice wasn’t one she recognized. “Yes?”

“When I get out, I’m going to slit your throat.”

Skye sat perfectly still as the memory of Burke’s attack intruded. He was straddling her, holding her down as she fought him. His blade, aimed at her eye, cut her cheek instead because she was twisting and turning beneath him, trying to free herself. Then there was pain, more panic, and the blood that poured from the cut, smearing everywhere, blinding her as she fought like a madwoman….

“Who is this?” she asked, but the phone clicked and the caller was gone.

Her focus returned to the window. It couldn’t be Burke, she told herself. He didn’t have unmonitored access to a phone. Not yet, anyway. Had he put someone else up to it? He must have. The caller didn’t say something general like, “I’m watching you” or “I’m going to kill you.” He’d said, “When I get out—”

“Skye? Are you back?”

Jasmine.

Answer. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Who was it?”

She shivered as the words ran through her mind again. Whoever had spoken them didn’t sound like a young boy trying to frighten strangers. It had been a man.

But she was unlisted. How did he get her number? “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

Skye stood and slipped out of the kitchen, hiding from whoever might be on the other side of that large, square window, looking in at her. “Someone who knows that Burke is about to be released just threatened me.” With a knife…

“What did he say exactly?”

“When I get out, I’m going to—” she swallowed hard, trying to stem the onslaught of fresh fear “—to slit your throat.”

“Call the police!” Jasmine nearly shouted. “Make sure they haven’t let Burke out early.”

Skye leaned against the wall in the entryway. “I don’t think they have. David would’ve warned me. Besides, it doesn’t have to be Burke who’s behind it. We’ve all talked to the press about our past encounters with criminal violence.”

“Maybe a lot of people know how you were attacked. But how many know Burke is being paroled?”

Again Skye tried to convince herself that it could be more people than she realized. “That depends on who he’s told, who they’ve told—”

“Still, you have to go to the police.”

Outside, the rain fell harder, hitting her porch like pebbles, and Skye imagined the water in the sloughs rising steadily, cutting off her escape…. “I can’t. If they respond at all, they’ll take their time about it. They’ve warned me on several occasions that I’m making myself a target, hinted that I’ll be putting myself at risk if I continue to get involved in potentially dangerous situations.”

“Call them anyway. And do it now. Then make sure your doors and windows are locked. I’ll get hold of Sheridan and have her come out and stay with you. I’m too far away or I’d come myself.”

“Don’t call Sheridan. I have what I need to take care of myself.” She withdrew the gun she’d stuffed in the pocket of her coat on Friday, when David dropped by. Still loaded. Ready to shoot.

“But you’d rest better if someone was with you,” Jasmine argued. “You don’t get much sleep as it is.”

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Skye couldn’t let her guard down long enough to sleep. Bad things happened when she closed her eyes….

“I can’t expect Sheridan to get up in the middle of the night and drive an hour in the pouring rain just to hold my hand.”

“Yes, you can. On Friday you learned that the man who attacked you is getting out of prison, for crying out loud. Sheridan won’t mind.”

“Don’t bother her. She was exhausted when we left the office.” Skye held the side of the gun to her chest, reassured by the weight of it, the fit of the handle, the cool metal against her skin. After Burke, she was more terrified of knives than any other weapon, but a gun could outdo a knife any day. As long as she saw him coming. “I’ll be fine.”




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