Page 3 of Night Watch
Kennedy closed and locked the door to keep out the racing wind, then paced the room. She stopped at the patio door to look at the gray skies. Rain was rare in the Willamette Valley in late August, but not unheard of, and she’d love to stand by the window and watch, but Finley spurred Kennedy’s need to look through their mom’s things again. She’d searched this place a dozen or so times to no avail. She was missing something. She was sure of it.
She climbed the spiral staircase to her mother’s bedroom. Her floral perfume still lingered in the room. Kennedy opened a drawer and riffled through the clothing. Tears wet her eyes again, and she blinked, trying to keep them at bay. Such an invasion of privacy to paw through the belongings of the woman who’d raised and cared for Kennedy every day of her life. She’d been an amazing and supportive mother. Always sacrificing to put Kennedy’s and Finley’s needs first.
Kennedy shoved the drawer closed. She couldn’t do this now, not after arguing with Finley. Kennedy should have been more understanding and supportive of her sister. As the older sister, Kennedy should do everything in her power to take over for and emulate their mother and be sure Finley was okay.
“Oh, sis,” Kennedy whispered as the tears finally came. She tumbled onto the plush bed, grabbing a pillow with her mother’s lingering scent and curled around the soft fabric. “I’ll do better next time. I promise.”
Hugging her knees, she cried until her head ached and she could no longer keep her eyes open. An image of Erik Byrd came to mind, and her brain floated into college memories and thoughts of the man she once thought she would spend her life beside. Until her father’s news ruined that.
She sighed, and sleep beckoned. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted off.
Kennedy dreamed of trying to save her mother from a faceless fiend and woke with a start. Daylight had faded to dark. A shaft of moonlight pierced the open curtains, flapping uncontrollably in the brisk wind and highlighting the familiar bed, dresser, and floral wallpaper.
She was in her mother’s bedroom.
A scraping sound on the first floor grabbed her attention.
What was that? Couldn’t be Oreo.
Just water lapping on the deck, right? Or the wind? Maybe Finley had come back.
Or was it more?
Listen to her. Thinking something was going on when it was just the creaking and groaning of the home. She’d heard it plenty of times in the three weeks since she’d been staying here. She hadn’t wanted to live here, and she’d started out bunking with Finley, but they hadn’t been able to get along enough to share her place.
Kennedy closed the window against the threatening rain, and her stomach grumbled. She headed for the stairs. The top step squeaked under her weight.
A figure cloaked in shadows spun in the family room to look at her, the person’s hand resting on the drawer handle for the sofa table.
“Finley?” Kennedy asked.
“What the heck?” The man ground out the words between clenched teeth then growled. A deep male growl, and stepped out of the shadows.
Not Finley. A big burly guy with a mask over his face and a stocking cap on his head. He was dressed in a green T-shirt and camouflage pants, and his eyes bored into Kennedy.
She glanced at the table holding her purse and gun. Her phone lay silently next to it. She couldn’t access either item.
The man marched toward her, drawing a gun on the way.
A gun! Ohmygoodness. Ohmygoodness.
Her throat closed. She couldn’t speak.
Think. Act. Do something.
She bolted back into the bedroom and twisted the lock, but it wouldn’t hold him for long.
The dresser.
She rushed across the room and pushed it toward the door.
The door shook. The handle rattled.
Her heart raced. Nearly burst.
A thump sounded against the door.
He was trying to break it down.
