Page 46 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

Scraaape!

She turned toward the sound, a scratch that came from the spot where the porch wrapped toward the back of the house.

And saw nothing.

Just your imagination.

Pulse going wild, she scanned the snowy landscape more carefully, but found no one hiding in the shadows.

Just get out of here.

As softly as possible, she pulled the door shut behind her and started off the porch.

Scraaape!

Louder.

Just the wind, causing a branch to rub against the roof or—

Her heart was a jackhammer as she started across the lawn.

A deep growl rumbled from the porch.

She froze.

Turned.

Saw the dark figures on the porch. A man and a dog with a shaggy coat, pointed ears, eyes reflecting the eerie light.

Her stomach knotted, and she was about to run when an all-too-familiar voice stopped her cold: “Rebecca.”

Oh. God. James.

“You scared me! What’re you doing here—?” she started.

“I forgot something,” he said, but she looked to the parking area, where there was no vehicle. His friend must have dropped him off, and he’d returned to catch whoever was inside his house. She hadn’t fooled him at all.

“And I live here,” he went on. He’d been leaning against the siding but pushed himself away from the house and started slowly toward her. “So the question goes to you. What’re you doing here?” The dog walked at his side, its hackles up, its eyes focused on her.

“But you . . . I thought you were in the hospital.”

“Until I wasn’t.” He moved slowly down the steps. He was angry: she saw it in the shadowy light. “Why the hell did you break into my house?”

“I didn’t break into it.”

“It was locked.”

She knew she could outrun him. He wasn’t that steady on his feet, and he looked like hell, she saw as he got closer, his head still bound as it was, his skin pale in the wintry half-light. But she couldn’t outrun the shepherd, and he’d eventually catch her even if he didn’t sic the dog on her. The jig, as her father used to say, was up. “The dog door was open.”

“You crawled through the dog door? Jesus, Rebecca, what’s wrong with you?” Then as if he actually thought she might answer, he held up a hand and asked, “Why?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “I thought I might find something here that would help me find Megan.”

“By breaking into a house that had already been searched by the police?”

Even to her own ears, it sounded ridiculous.

He stared down at her, obviously angry. Not the first time, she reminded herself. “And what did you think you’d find?”

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