Page 79 of I Know She Was There

No answer.

Lifting my right knee, I pressed it against the lever, unlatching the aluminum screen door, but it closed before I could get anything wedged against the doorjamb. Should I go to the front door and ring the bell? Did I want to stand under the front porch light and risk Matt seeing me? Or alert the neighbors and expose Rod to potential embarrassment? He deserved better than that, didn’t he? And now that I was free, I deserved to stay that way.

Peering through the screen door, my eyes met only shadows. Didn’t anyone keep lights on anymore? I’d never again relish the dark. I lifted my knee to the latch again, and once more failed to open the door. About the only thing I was accomplishing was making a racket.

Something moved in the shadows beyond the screen. I squinted through the murk.

“Is that you, Rod?” I asked, my voice quivering.

“No, it’s not.” A light flicked on, and Jane Brockton stood before me, one hand clutching a steak knife, the other extended to the light switch on the wall. “What the hell areyoudoing here?”

CHAPTER40

SUNDAY NIGHT, SEPTEMBER 24

Ishrank back, looking at her neat cloud of auburn hair, the ends kissing the straps of her skimpy fuchsia nightgown. She was equal parts frightened and angry, but she didn’t seem guilty. I doubted she’d been jogging through the streets of Deer Crossing in her silky lingerie.

“I asked you a question,” she charged through the door, ramming it into me. I had no choice but to back up and let her out. Standing too close, she lifted the knife until it was mere inches from my face. “Why are you here?”

I opened my mouth and shut it, unable to find my voice.

“I’m calling the police.” The hand clutching the knife trembled.

I lowered my chin, losing eye contact. I may have been wrong about Jane’s involvement with Matt’s dead wife, but she was jittery. I didn’t want to give her a reason to slash me. “I can explain everything but listen to me, pleasedocall the police.” I studied her through my lashes. “And stay away from that man.”

She stilled. “What man?”

“The one you’re seeing. He’s dangerous, Jane.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, I’m not judging you.” I inched back farther as her hand shook harder.

“I should hope not. My husband says anyone who would...”

I tuned her out, watching her lips move and her eyes narrow. Wherewasher husband? She wouldn’t be standing in her nightwear with a weapon if Rod were here to defend her. I thought of the two shadows I’d seen running through the dark. Had Rod discovered Matt and Jane’s clandestine relationship and taken it upon himself to confront the much younger man?

“Where’s Rod?” I asked, hoping to cut off her self-righteous tirade. It worked. She stopped speaking, her eyes popping open.

“How do you know my husband’s name?”

She got me there, but I didn’t have time for a long explanation. “I heard you call to him once when I was in the neighborhood.” I bit my lip, praying Rod was not where I thought he might be. I let my gaze wander suggestively to the dark house beside hers before glancing back at her.

“My husband is walking the dog.” Jane had followed my gaze. “Not that it’s any business of yours.”

“Could you do me a favor and call the police to report a crime at 21 Pine Hill Road?”

“No, I could not!” But curiosity got the better of her. “What crime is supposed to have happened there?”

“Kidnapping,” I said, turning around so she could see my bound hands. “And while you’ve so handily got a knife, could you please cut this rope?”

* * *

After Jane grudgingly sliced the rope from my wrists and went back into her house to call the police, I realized Mary was still sitting, bound and gagged, at my kitchen table. Let the cops handle the issues at the Pine Hill house, I had an octogenarian to rescue. I ran home. It was much easier when I could pump with my arms, aiding the motion rather than having my bound hands behind my back acting as an anchor, slowing forward progress. Incredible that I had to learn that lesson the hard way.

When I got to my house, I scanned the immediate vicinity, my eyes searching for any car, person, or shadow that looked like it didn’t belong in my neighborhood. I walked around my house and sat in the hedge for a while, listening for footsteps. When I was satisfied that nobody appeared to be monitoring my place, I slipped inside.

“Mary,” I said on an expelled breath. She was right where I’d last seen her, her lumpy outline barely discernable in the dusky interior of the house. I didn’t try to turn on a light, sure my attacker had turned off the breaker. Luckily, I knew my way around in the dark. I’d untie her and get us both the hell away from here. But as I crept forward, a thought struck me, something I’d been too desperate to think about before: when I’d first discovered my trussed neighbor and was attacked from behind, my home alarm hadn’t gone off. Why was that? I remembered setting it when I left my house, and only a few people knew the code: me, Mary, and...

---