"I don’t live with anyone. Not really."
Not really? What the hell did that mean? "Is he out of town or something?"
She grew suddenly still, and I felt the muscles in my neck bunch into knots. So the guywasout of town? Was it the douchebag? It had to be. Whowasthat guy, anyway? If he was fucking her –. I felt my breath catch as I envisioned them together.
I wanted to kill him. "I'm waiting," I said.
From the sidewalk, I shot a quick glance at her house. It looked nice and proper, the kind of place where civilized people lived. I wasn't civilized, and I was getting less civilized by the minute.
Chloe was glaring at me now. Her voice rose. "You know, I don't appreciate the interrogation."
Said the girl who told me nothing. "Yeah," I muttered. "That's about what I expected."
She glanced toward her house. "I'd better get back inside."
"Yeah," I said. "You do that."
She thrust her hand, palm up, toward Chucky's leash. If she wanted it, fine. I handed it over and watched as she turned and stalked back to her house, taking her little dog with her.
Silently, I watched them go.
Before ducking into the house, the dog looked back.
Chloe didn't.
Yeah, that's about what I figured.
Chapter 38
Like an ass, I spent the next couple of days hanging around my house. I watched her when she walked by. I missed her when she didn't. I saw her in my dreams and wanted her when I was awake.
Sometimes, I imagined her withhim, whoever the guy was.
He wasn't good for her. I knew it in her eyes, by that touch of fear and the crease of worry at the edges. I started to wonder about that thing with the fence. Was she runningtosomething? Orfromsomething?
Maybe ithadn'tbeen just something with the dog. Maybe the guy had been giving her a hard time. Maybe he'd scared her off with threats or worse. Maybe, when I'd helped her open that door, I'd been returning her tohim.
I mean, it's not like I went inside or anything.
In my mind's eye, I saw blood on her floor and bits of broken glass. Sometimes, I saw Chloe, lying there in the middle. Yeah, it was a nice neighborhood. A nice house, too. But in spite of my earlier thoughts, I did realize that sometimes, bad things happened in good places.
On the third day, I started watching her house – looking for her, looking for him, looking for any sign of trouble. I haunted my own property and stalked past hers. The winds of November had picked up, making it cold as hell just to step outside.
I didn't care. I never did. But Chloe might. What if she got locked out again? She might freeze. Or worse.
I wouldn't let that happen.
Monday morning, on my second pass along the sidewalk, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks. It was a broken window – not on the house, but on her car. I strode forward, heading down her driveway. When I reached the car, I looked inside.
On the passenger's side floor, I saw stray bits of broken glass, not a lot, but enough. The way it looked, someone had tried to clean up the mess. But the evidence was still there.
It was cold outside, but my blood was boiling. Whatever had happened, this wasn't an accident. I'd seen this before, too many times to count. Not here. But in my old neighborhood, where car break-ins were a regular thing and not only at night.
But this was Chloe's car.
Had someone tried to hurt her? In my dark thoughts, I saw her, huddling in the driver's seat, calling for help. No one came. Not even me.
Fuck.
