Should she call the police? And say what—that a detective had come here to interview her and made her nervous?
She could just imagine how that would go over. It wasn’t difficult to picture them having a good time laughing in her face.
One officer in particular. The one who had pulled her over for speeding when she’d first arrived in St. Stephens.
Apparently the locals knew that the traffic patrol lay in wait for speeders along Route 50. But nobody had bothered to tell her—until she’d heard a siren and seen the flashing red and blue lights in her rearview mirror.
The trooper who had pulled her over had been excruciatingly polite—which hadn’t done anything to convince her that he wasn’t having a perfectly wonderful time looking at her breasts as he explained her summons.
No, she wasn’t going to call the police and chance having that same guy show up at her door.
Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing again. She was just starting to relax, when another sound made her body jerk off the mattress.
This time it wasn’t a flower pot. This time she heard a stealthier sound—the knob on the French doors to the patio slowly twisting.