The loud boom of a car backfiring sent her jumping out of her skin. She took a second to set her hand over her heart and will the darn thing to slow down.
This is the United States, not England, she told herself.You’re safe.
Ever since Lyle Woodard, the headmaster at the private school where she taught in England, had gone missing before the end of the school term last July, she found herself on edge and jumpier than a damn rabbit.
At times, it’d felt like she was being watched. Even stalked. In mid-October, the police had questioned her about her relationship with Lyle. She told them the truth—she’d gone out with him twice in the spring.
Heck, they weren’t even technically dates, just outings—friendly ones—but that was it. There was no spark between them, no chemistry. She often wondered why he’d asked her out the second time, and why she accepted. No, that wasn’t true. Amanda knew why…because she was lonely. Still, they’d enjoyed a nice picnic and she considered him a friend.
During her police questioning, she suggested they talk to his creepy friend, Xavier something. Amanda didn’t know his last name, but the guy always seemed to show up at their outings. And she’d seen him at the school talking to Lyle in the parking lot a couple of times.
After she gave a brief description of Xavier—brown hair, dark eyes, scar by his right eye—the police were apparently appeased. Then in late November, her flat had been ransacked. She’d had enough. Amanda had asked DI Bristol—the detective inspector leading the case—if she could head back to the States. She was done with the situation.
He told her she was cleared but gave her his card in case she thought of anything new and took down her phone number and address of where she was headed. Not wanting to bring her parents into it, she’d given him Emily’s address, hoping it was never needed. After that, she’d immediately given notice to the school that she would not be returning after Christmas break.
Then she’d had to call Emily and ask if she could crash there until she found a place.
Her stomach clenched just thinking about it.
God, she’d hated to do that, not just because she was invading her sister’s privacy, but because she’d technically brought her sister into her mess.
Within two weeks, she’d miraculously rented this two-bedroom brick ranch and had immediately called DI Bristol to update him on her new address. The relief that had washed through her for removing Emily as a point of contact was a welcome flood.
The thought of connecting her sister and Holden and their sanctuary to her mess would always eat at her. Had she known about the sanctuary at the time, though, she would’ve used her parents’ address instead. Not that it was any better.
She blew out a breath with a groan. There hadn’t been a good choice. There also hadn’t been any new updates on Lyle’s disappearance when she’d spoken to DI Bristol.
It just didn’t make sense, and kind of sucked that she didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Both of her sisters knew she’d gone out with Lyle twice, but that was it. She’d kept all the other crap to herself. They had already been worried about her living alone in the UK. There was no need to increase their stress.
A knock rapped on the front door, sending her out of her skin again.
Wondering who could be there for a visit since she was normally working at the preschool at this time, she headed through the dining room then the living room to the front entrance.
Even when she was home, her friends and family knew to knock at the side door in the kitchen that led to the carport.
It was probably someone selling something, although what that could be, she had no idea.
Amanda unlocked the door that she only used to get the mail, then opened it to find her front stoop empty. She frowned and stepped out to glance around.
No one.
Had she imagined the knock?
Unease prickled her spine.
Shivering, she fought down a wave of panic she’d thought she’d left back in London, hurried inside, then shut and locked the door.
What was going on?
Had she taken too long to answer and whomever it was had driven away?
She supposed it was possible. Nothing was improbable, but it always paid to be careful. Remembering her other door, she rushed through the house and kicked something hard across the kitchen floor as she raced to lock her side door too.
Leaning against it, she closed her eyes and worked to get her breathing under control. She was being foolish. Her overactive imagination was kicking in. It was best to think of something else.
She opened her eyes and glanced down to see what had beaten her to the door. Her gaze snagged on a colorful pig-shaped piece of wood.
Noah’s puzzle.
