“Meg.”

She glanced up at the sound of her name. Battles stood at the entrance to the short corridor that led into the back. He motioned for her to come with him.

Careful to keep her back to the front of the shop, she did as he asked.

Now for the second round of questioning.

When she reached him, he turned and walked with her toward the storeroom door. “One of the deputies from the Dread Hollow substation is driving Jennifer home, but she wanted to see you before leaving.”

“Is she okay?” Evidently so, but asking was the appropriate response.

“She’s shaken up,” he said, “as you can imagine, but she sustained nothing more than minor physical injuries.”

She got it. The horror of what happened would be the only mark that lingered. For how long would be entirely up to Jennifer and her ability to bounce back from trauma without developing PTSD. Hopefully she would be one of the lucky ones. With the right kind of support, it was possible.

When Meg walked through the door, Jennifer rushed to her and hugged her hard. “Thank you so much for saving me.” She drew back. Tears flooded down her cheeks. “Deputy Battles told me I was so lucky that you spotted the trouble and came to help since he couldn’t get here fast enough.” She looked away a moment. “He said he was going to kill me.”

“But he didn’t get the chance,” Meg assured her, then she produced a smile. “And what kind of neighbor would I be if I didn’t help?”

Jennifer’s lips quivered as she managed a dim smile. “Thank you.” She scrubbed at her face with her hands before resting her gaze on Meg’s once more. “You saved my life.”

Meg nodded. “We both got lucky.”

“Your parents are waiting for you,” Battles said. “You go on home and take it easy for a while, like I said. And call that counselor.”

Jennifer promised she would then the other deputy ushered her away. When the back door closed behind the two, Battles said, “Let’s go over a couple more things, and then I’ll have Deputy Porch escort you back to your place.”

Porch was the deputy from Dread Hollow who’d just left with Jennifer. Meg made it a point to know all members of law enforcement in the area. Knowledge was power as well as protection.

“That won’t be necessary,” Meg insisted. “I’ll be less conspicuous if I take the long way around through the alley and avoid all those folks gathered out front.”

“You’re not worried about going that long way around in the dark?”

Her answer had surprised him, and now that nagging little suspicion that something was off here was bugging him again. There were people who noticed little things like that, particularly cops and those working in the fields where the extra effort of paying attention were crucial. A good cop didn’t miss much.

“No, sir,” she insisted, mentally scrambling for the right answer to head off a deepening of his curiosity. “I take my runs at night along those same paths. I’ve never bumped into any trouble.”

This was pretty much true. Though she had been observed by a bear once. A fox more than once. And a coyote twice. Never another human, which is what she suspected he meant. She had no fear of the local wildlife, just a healthy respect. That was all any animal needed. She spent so much time with dogs she imagined she smelled more like a dog than a human on those rare encounters with wildlife anyway.

Battles nodded slowly as if he wasn’t entirely sure he was okay with the idea but couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to argue her point. Finally, he hitched his head toward the desk and chair. “Why don’t you have a seat at the desk, and we’ll go over a few things, and then you’re free to go.”

Meg returned his nod. “Sure.”

This was where things would get tricky.

She walked to the desk, pulled out the chair and settled into it. Same hard plastic as the other one. Most likely, the owner didn’t want any employee getting too comfortable sitting down. Battles leaned against the wall next to the desk. He looked exhausted as he flipped back a few pages in his notepad. He’d probably been on duty well past his shift at this point.

“You stated,” he began, “that you were at your window and noticed the trouble across the way.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Meaning here.”

“That’s right.” She made a sound, a kind of soft laugh. “I’m a watcher. Birds, animals and people. I keep a pair of binoculars at the window. My apartment upstairs faces the street. In the mornings when I first get up and at night before I go to bed. It’s relaxing. I like watching the world around me—no matter where I am. It’s a habit I developed during all my travels. You’d be surprised what you notice just watching the world go by.”

He grunted an acknowledgment as he made a note of her answer.

As far as anyone in this town knew, she had spent most of her adult life traveling the world. This was the first place she had stayed for more than six months, she had told anyone who asked. But at almost thirty-five, she had decided it was time to settle down. She’d always loved animals, and going into the business of taking care of them was the perfect career. The cover story had sounded good to her and, so far, to whomever she’d told it.

“Is that why you carry a survivalist type knife?”

This was the biggest sticking point for the deputy. Understandable. A woman carrying a knife like the one she had wasn’t the norm.