Raeanne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer. RaeAnne Thayne

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       CHAPTER SIX

      CLAIRE COULD HEAR HER pulse pounding in her ears, but she quickly tried to talk herself down.

      She was seeing things. A trick of the wind or a shadow or something.

      And even if she wasn’t seeing some weird hallucination, if she really had seen someone standing on her porch, the explanation was probably perfectly benign. This was Hope’s Crossing after all. Not that the town was immune to crime—as the recent rash of burglaries would certainly attest—but a home invasion robbery was an entirely different situation.

      Settle down, she told herself. She was only freaking out because she was battling a completely normal sense of vulnerability, alone and helpless in her big house on a stormy night. It was only natural to start imagining somebody out there with a chain saw and a hockey mask.

      She was seeing things. She was down to one pain-killer at night, but maybe even that much of the stuff lingering in her system was messing with her head.

      She gazed out into the sleeting rain again, straining her eyes to peer at the dark corners of her lawn. There. Again. This time, she couldn’t come up with another rational explanation. That was definitely a person out there dressed in dark clothing, lurking on the edge of the porch.

      In a panic, not really thinking about what she was doing, Claire checked to make sure the door was latched and then flicked the porch light rapidly on and off a half-dozen times.

      It was probably a stupid thing to do, only serving to let the guy know she had seen him. She would have been better off using that time to barricade herself in the bathroom and calling 9-1-1 or something.

      Stupid or not, though, it worked. She had caught his attention anyway. The figure turned quickly toward the front door and she caught the pale blur of a face, but couldn’t make out features or any other identifying details—even whether it was a man or woman—before he (she?) turned quickly and rushed down the driveway.

      What on earth was that? Her breath came in shallow gasps as Claire reached down to put a comforting hand on Chester’s warm fur.

      “You’re such a good, brave doggie. Yes, you are. Yes, you are. The bad man is gone now. We’re okay.”

      Her voice sounded squeaky, as if she’d been sucking helium and she forced herself to try some of Alex’s circle breathing: in through the nose for five counts, fill the diaphragm and hold it for five, then out through the mouth for five counts.

      She was only on her second rotation when Chester suddenly gave his howling bark again, his grumpy face concerned, just a second before the doorbell rang. Claire let out a little shriek. Was her intruder back?

      After a frantic search for some kind of weapon, she finally picked up a stout umbrella from the holder by the door, then peered through the window again.

      This visitor was unquestionably male. Hard chest, broad shoulders, a slight dark shadow on his face. Relief surged through her, sweet and pure like spring runoff.

      Riley!

      She fumbled with the dead bolt and the lock and yanked open the door, then shoved herself back in the office chair a few feet to give him room to come inside.

      Some of her fear must have been obvious on her face. Riley looked wary. If she hadn’t known him since they were both kids, she would have called him dangerous.

      “What is it? What’s wrong? I saw you flashing your porch lights as I was heading home. Are you hurt?”

      Claire wanted to sink into his arms, into that peace and comfort she had found there that day in her store.

      “Probably nothing. I feel like an idiot now. Sorry to make you get out of your car in the rain.”

      She was suddenly aware she was dressed in her nightgown, cotton and shapeless, and no bra. At least it was fairly pretty, a light, sunny yellow that one of her friends from the senior citizen center had embellished with embroidery flowers and brought over a few days earlier.

      Claire didn’t even want to think what her hair must look like, tangled and flat from falling asleep on the couch earlier. Why could he never see her under better circumstances? She didn’t always look like a frowsy invalid, she would almost swear to it.

      “What happened?” Riley asked.

      “Chester started barking at something, which is unusual for him. I came to investigate and thought I saw someone on the porch. I flickered the lights, I don’t know, just as a distraction, I guess. I had no idea you were out there, but I’m so glad you saw them, too. Anyway, it must have worked because he bolted.”

      “He?”

      “I don’t know. It might have been a woman. I couldn’t tell. I just saw this dark shape take off down the driveway. Did you see anything?”

      He shook his head and she saw a few raindrops that still clung to the dark strands of his hair, gleaming in her foyer light. “Visibility is pretty poor out because of the storm. I didn’t see СКАЧАТЬ