Page 27 of Silent Ridge

Twenty-Four

I park and go to my front door. I left a light on in the entryway. It’s off. I look around the street. The other houses have power, so that’s not it. I’ve never replaced a lightbulb since moving in. I draw my .45 anyway.

The door is locked. Someone could have come in and locked the door behind them. I would. My key finds the slot in the waning light and I push the door open. No one jumps out of the dark interior. I go in and try the light switch. It flicks up and down. I have a fuse blown or the bulb is out.

Cursing my stalker for making me feel on edge, I go down the hall and flip another switch in the hall. A light comes on. Relief washes over me and I’m holstering my .45 when my phone vibrates and startles me.

“What?” I say, more angrily than I intend. I don’t realize how shaken I really am. I wish, not for the first time, my stalker would show himself. Come for me. Get this over with.

“Megan?”

It’s Clay. “I’m sorry, Clay. I had my hands full and couldn’t find my phone.”

“Understand completely,” he says, but I don’t think he’s telling the truth. “I just wanted to catch you up on that thing in Port Orchard.”

Shit. I forgot to call Clay.

“I called Ronnie and she was on her way to the crime lab to turn over some samples.”

Go, Ronnie! Yay! She was so competent it was starting to gnaw on my nerves. No doubt she wanted to brag to Marley that she’d found all the stuff herself. I remind myself that I’m the one who threw those two together just so I could get favors from the lab.

“She said I should call you.”

“Okay. Did Gabrielle get off okay?”

“She packed a bag and I took her to the airport. Is she a witness?”

“Not really,” I say, then feel bad for asking him to babysit. “But she might be in a little danger. I’m just playing it safe.” That should make him feel important.

“Glad I could help. I’m glad we could work together again.”

He leaves the sentence just hanging there like he wants to say something. I wait. He’s a grown man. He can spit it out, whatever it is.

“Speaking of,” he says and pauses. “Now that we’re not actually working a case together, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Oh, shit. I think I know what’s coming next and I don’t want to know. I feel a tingle of excitement. Clay is a very attractive man. He’s built like a linebacker, but he’s at least ten years older than me. Maybe fifteen. And I have a date tonight with Dan. Please don’t say it.

“Would you go out for drinks with me?”

Shit. Shit. “Let me think about it.”

“Okay. That’s better than a no. Call me when you make up your mind.”

“Thanks for taking care of Gabrielle.” I hang up. Shit.

I stand on a chair and check the entryway lightbulb. It’s unscrewed slightly. I screw it back tight and the light comes on.

I go to my office. Everything appears to be as I left it. I get in the closet and find something decent but not too much to wear to The Tides tonight. I pull out a pair of black jeans that I picked up in a second-hand clothing store. The knees are fashionably shredded. I take out a pair of cork-soled sandals but decide to wear my work boots. A dark blue button-down long-sleeve shirt that came from the same store will work under a cheap Levi’s blazer. My statement accessory is my gun.

I check the drawer where the tapes are kept. Nothing looks disturbed. I’m getting paranoid. But like they say, you’re not paranoid if someone is really out to get you.

The tapes call to me. I have enough time to listen before my date-meeting with Dan. I find one at random, slot the tape and play it.

Dr. A: Tell me about the dream. Tell me about it as though it were happening now.

Me: I’m staying at the Best Western in Kent, Washington. I have an ice pick I’ve taken from Aunt Ginger’s kitchen. My plan is to find Alex Rader and shove the ice pick into his eyes. I drift into an uneasy slumber and dream about the little girl from the rest stop.

Dr. A: Do you know her name?

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