Page 27 of Obsession

“I think last night’s shooting was a one-time thing to scare me away so the intruder could finish whatever they came to do.”

“I’d rather you be safe than sorry.” Sam glanced in his rearview mirror, then turned off the main street.

“Where are you going?” she asked. “This isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“I know. Just making sure no one is following us.”

Emma looked over her shoulder. Theirs was the only car on thestreet, but that didn’t ease the tightness that suddenly gripped her chest. “You really think the man who fired at me might try again, don’t you?”

“It’s entirely possible.”

He was using his keep-your-distance voice again. She sucked in a breath of air. If she had to be around him, and she did until she could drive again, Emma did not want to feel like she was walking a tightrope all the time.

“Maybe we do need to clear the air,” she said when he parked in front of the house. “Want to come up for a cup of coffee? I brew a really good cup of joe, even better than Jug Head’s.”

Emma’s face warmed as Sam’s eyes questioned her. “Are you sure?”

No, she wasn’t sure, but confronting the problem was better than this uneasiness. “Yes.”

“Sorry if I came across wrong, but I’d hoped to get you home earlier. When we came out of Jug Head’s, it hit me how easily someone could attack you again with it being so dark.”

That made her feel slightly better, except for the being attacked part. Sam came around to her side of the car and opened her door. “Thank you,” she said and climbed out of the car, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

A frown creased his brow as he glanced up and down the street.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Something seems off.”

A shiver raced down her spine, and she followed his gaze down the tree-lined avenue. Spanish moss floated like ghosts in the light wind. Her sharpened senses caught the scent of burning wood—probably from the Johnsons’ house. A dog barked two doors down. Normal things. So why was the hair raised on her arms?

With the overhead streetlight out, darkness hid his form as he pressed against the giant oak in the yard. The tree limb forked at just the right height to rest the rifle he’d assembled and afforded him an unobstructed view of Emma’s apartment building at the end of the block.

He’d parked on the next street over and carried his black case to the vacant house with a for-sale sign in the yard. This street dead-ended into the one Emma lived on. Even though there wasn’t much traffic in the area, he’d only ever come here once in the daytime and that was this morning. At night with his dark clothing he could blend with the shadows, and the overgrown shrubs afforded him privacy from any neighbors who might look out their windows.

A light wind brought the scent of burning wood and a memory of being cold and his mother struggling to lift a log his father hadn’t split. His father. His jaw clenched just thinking about him.

The whine of tires jerked his attention back to Emma’s street. Not them. They should have been here by now.

Waiting was always the hard part. While he waited, he pointed the powerful nightscope to a second-floor window. Emma’s bedroom window. It was up to him to protect her.

Another vehicle approached the apartment building, and his pulse quickened. An SUV with the National Park Service logo on the door pulled to the front of the apartment house, and Sam Ryker climbed out of the driver’s side. Emma waited in the vehicle until he walked around and opened her car door. He held his breath as Ryker made her sit in the car while he scanned the area. Even though his black clothing blended in with the shadows, he couldn’t keep from shrinking back. He lined them up in the crosshairs of the nightscope as they hurried up the steps.

“Let’s get you inside,” Sam said and guided her with his hand on the small of her back.

“I have to get the key out for the front door.” Emma fumbled in her purse and pulled the key out, only to drop it. As they both stooped to retrieve it, she heard a faintpop, and the wood above them splintered.

She froze. It was last night happening all over again. Except this time, she’d put Sam in jeopardy.

“Go!” Sam covered her with his body as he pulled his gun.

There was nowhere to go. The door was locked, and she wasn’t about to rise up and unlock it. Emma crawled to the other side of the porch and held her breath, waiting for another shot to fire. When it didn’t happen, she searched for Sam. He was hunkered down behind the column on the porch with his cell phone in one hand, gun in the other.

“Do you think he’s gone?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. I called 911 and then the sheriff.”

As the adrenaline rush subsided, questions crowded her mind. What was going on? Why was someone trying to kill her?

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