Page 125 of Rags's Awakening
“Rags, get off the fuckin’ phone and get your ass movin’,” someone growled.
She giggled. “You better go or you’ll lose your helpers.”
“These assholes. Okay, baby. I’ll call you when I get a break.”
“Stay warm.”
“The only thing that keeps me real warm is you and me being inside you.”
“If you keep talking like that, we’re gonna end up having phone sex.”
“Fuck, woman.”
“Rags!” someone bellowed.
“Go. Call me when you can, sweetie.”
“I will, Case. Bye.”
A huge smile spread across her face as she set the phone on the counter. She kept telling herself this was an exciting, sexy affair, but the truth was she adored Rags. And even though she hadn’t admitted it to Zoe, Raven, or anyone—not even herself—she was falling in love with him. The realization scared and thrilled her at the same time.
She pulled open the utensil drawer, grabbed a spoon, took the hot pan from the stove, and settled onto the couch. She turned on the TV, letting the images flicker past. Not in the mood to invest in a movie, she landed on an old episode ofThe Big Bang Theory.
It was right when Sheldon and Amy kissed that she felt it. The sense of beingseen. Her gaze snapped to the front, then back. She stood, walked into the kitchen, washed the pan, and double-checked the lock and deadbolt on the back door, then thefront. Everything was secured. So why did it feel like someone was watching her?
Casey dimmed the lamp and shuffled to the window overlooking the street. She peered through the blinds. Her reflection stared back. She switched the lamp off and looked again. The road was blanketed in white, sparkling under the streetlights. Cars were snow-covered humps. Bare branches were dusted with frost. The street was quiet: neighbors tucked inside in front of flickering TVs, electronic screens, crackling flames in fireplaces. Everything was normal. Still, that feeling crawled up the back of her neck again. Like the air itself was holding its breath.
She leaned closer to the glass, squinting into the dark. Nothing moved. No headlights. No dogs barking. No footsteps. No one. Just silence and the relentless wind through the pines. She exhaled slowly. “Get a fuckin’ grip,” she muttered, snapping the blinds shut.
Behind her, the characters on the TV carried on with their scripted lives. She tried to shake the chill clinging to her and took another sip of wine, forcing her thoughts back to anything else: her call with Rags, the ride they’d taken the week before, Zoe’s constant vow to dump Ryan. Not the woman strangled in her own house two weeks before.
“This is insane,” she muttered.
She was tired. A smile flickered at the memory of why she’d gotten so little sleep the night before. She drained the last of her wine, turned off the TV, grabbed the library books, and climbed the stairs.
A couple of hours later, Casey lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come, even though she was weary to the bone. She tossed from side to side, punched her pillow a few times, then closed her eyes and practiced a deep-breathingtechnique she’d learned during the turbulent years with JT. It had rarely failed her, but that night, it did.
The wind had picked up, shrieking through pine and oak trees outside her window, carrying the faint rattle of a loose gate and a heavy, wet snap of a branch—a sound too close to belong to the breeze. She rolled over and pulled the blanket tighter around her, ignoring the way her skin prickled, as if a cold gaze were pressing against her back.
Her breath caught, and she held still, listening.
Nothing but the wind again.What’s wrong with me? I’ve been imagining all kinds of crap tonight.
She punched her pillow again, closed her eyes, and slowly counted backwards from one hundred until her pulse began to slow.
Then she heard it.
A crisp sound, like stepping on dry cornflakes, followed by a soft, dullthumpas if heavy boots had broken through the ice to the powdery snow beneath. She bolted upright, her pulse leaping into her throat.It’s just the house settling. The cold’s messing with the siding.Even as the thoughts raced through her mind, she knew it was bullshit. Something… or someone was outside her house.
She dashed downstairs, and, for the umpteenth time, checked the front and back door locks. Then she crossed to the window facing the street, her bare feet whispering over the floor. With one finger, she lifted a slat of the blinds an inch. The street was empty. Nothing moved but the branches of the trees.
She checked the window latch: it was secured. She let out a long breath, pretending her mind was playing tricks on her, but knowing in her gut someone was outside… waiting.
Then a soft creak outside the kitchen window set every alarm she’d been holding back.Snap. Thump.The rhythm was toodeliberate for a falling branch, or a stray animal.Someone’s right outside my window.
The floor was cool beneath her bare feet as she moved toward the kitchen. She reached the window over the sink—the only one facing the back—and parted the curtains less than an inch. Her neighbor’s back porch light was on, its glow pooling over her garbage and recycle bins near the fence. She stared for a long moment. Just as she started to pull away, something moved. Just at the edge of the light there was a flicker, a shadow pulling back into the dark, like it had been caught watching. Her breath stalled in her throat. She stepped back a fraction, her pulse pounding hard. A metallicclinksliced through the night. She focused her gaze back at the bins. Every instinct screamedrun, but she stayed frozen, staring into the black space beyond the light.
Minutes crawled by, then she saw a shadowy figure emerge from behind the bins. Goosebumps carpeted her arms while the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. From her angle, it looked like he was coming toward the houses. Her neighbor’s screen door screeched open, and his Doberman burst out, barking wildly. The bins clanged together as the shadowy figure darted away.
