When the Flood Falls. J.E. Barnard

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СКАЧАТЬ More if she counted windows.

      “Lacey?” she whispered down the stairs, as loud as she dared. But of course there was no response. She crept three steps down, peering into the gloom below. No hint of starlight filtered through her drapes, which were drawn shut obsessively well. No way to know if someone was outside any particular window or door except by moving aside the drape. How many nights had she done just that — crept downstairs to peer out while trying not to move the cloth noticeably, always dreading being confronted by a face peering in?

      Her ankle twinged, a reminder to keep moving or sit down. Which would it be: go downstairs and stand ready to help Lacey, or go hide and let someone else face the terror she was shirking?

      Dee Phillips, she told herself fiercely, crouched in darkness on the third stair, You have survived broken bones, a broken marriage, law school, and the most cutthroat profession in the so-called civilized world. You will not hide while someone else defends your turf for you. She stood up straight, clutched her cellphone tight and the railing tighter, and descended, step by cautious step, into the abyss.

      

Lacey peered out past the curtains on the kitchen window, the last one on her circuit. Nothing moved that she could see. And surprisingly, she could see plenty. The circling spruces made a dark palisade, but the open spaces gathered what light sprinkled down from the stars and the sliver of moon. Her night vision was operating at full strength after her long grope through the blacked-out rooms. Three stubbed toes, a smacked and stinging elbow, and one fast grab at a lamp that had teetered as she reached past it. That was all she’d gained so far. Was it time to turn on the outside lights, assuming she could find the right switches? She moved toward the mudroom, bumping her hip bone on the black granite countertop, and let her fingers drift along the wall. Switches — which ones did what? She didn’t press any to find out.

      She slid aside the blinds on the mudroom’s exterior door. Still nobody. Just the furniture on the deck and the hanging baskets above. A few shadows large enough to hide a man, or a deer, if it stood quite still. She could walk outside and yell for whoever it was to show themselves. Say the cops were on their way. They probably should have called the police right away, but if it was only a deer going after the flowers, she’d feel like a fool. And an even bigger failure. Only a few weeks off the Force and she couldn’t handle walking around a house at night? She’d have been laughed off the job, if she were still on it. But there was a difference, a confidence, to walking a perimeter with a heavy flashlight, heavy boots, a heavy vest, and a dispatcher on the other end of your radio. Here, she’d be walking out in Tweety Bird pants and T-shirt and bare feet, if she couldn’t find her workboots in the dark, strange house. The dogs still hadn’t made a sound. She couldn’t tell from this angle if they were asleep in their shelter or lying drugged — or worse — by the gate. Going out there was the next logical step. Or rather, putting on her workboots was. She tied the laces in the dark, tucking in the trailing ends in case she had to chase down a prowler.

      Hoping Dee was doing as she was told, Lacey opened the door. The river’s roar ran like ice water down her spine. A scant second later, the dogs’ howls split the silence, letting her know just what they thought of an interloper daring to open a door of their mistress’s house. Which made it an even bigger mystery: if someone really had been prowling in the yard, why had the dogs remained silent?

      Behind her, Dee’s voice calmed the dogs.

      Lacey spun. “What are you doing down here? I told you to wait upstairs.”

      “I decided I couldn’t hide out and let you defend my turf for me.” Dee sounded half defiant and half scared out of her mind. “Did you see who it was?”

      “I didn’t see anybody. Or any movement at all until I opened the door and the dogs freaked out.” Lacey peered hard at Dee, but the dark within the room hid her friend’s expression. “Are you 100 percent sure you heard somebody on the deck? Because the dogs are obviously fine, and they’re very much defending the place right now.”

      “Oh god,” said Dee. “Not again. Please, Lacey, can you just walk around the house? Make sure nobody’s tampered with the windows or anything? I’ll tell you everything when you come back in.”

      “All right, but I want the outside lights on. I’ve tripped over enough stuff already.”

      Lacey stood silent on the deck, eying the ring of ominous darkness beyond the terrace lights. The dogs, vigilant in their pen, watched not the dark treeline, but the interloper on their deck. Likely they sensed her tension but, obedient to Dee’s shout, they didn’t make a sound. She was thankful for that much. Five minutes outside, examining each door handle and window latch by the strong beam of a flashlight, showed that nothing had changed since her afternoon’s perimeter check. No scrapes or scratches, no smudges save those she had left herself when trying to peer in earlier. She made a thorough job of it again, circling the garage and the dog pen, conscious with every step of the dogs pacing her inside their wire fence. The river’s menace washed louder over her nerves. She shivered and didn’t try to tell herself it was just the midnight chill on her bare arms.

      As she came in the mudroom door, she called out, “Just me.”

      Dee was making tea, her silhouette edged by the light from the stove hood. She poured the boiling water with intense concentration. “You didn’t see anyone.”

      “No sign of anybody.” Lacey locked the door and drew the blind, but left the outside lights on. “You ever think of getting motion-sensor lights? They’d be a deterrent.”

      “They’re on the garage, pointing down the drive.”

      Impossible to read her emotions from that clipped sentence. Lacey prodded for another response. “More of them would be good. On the deck or over the backyard?”

      “Animals would set them off all night. And I can’t afford them, anyway.” Dee’s voice was strung tighter than an off-key violin. Her hand shook as she pulled mugs from the cupboard. “You want canned milk with your tea? I bought some special, just like the old days. It’s in the fridge.”

      “Heavenly,” said Lacey, as she reached for the glossy black refrigerator handle. She kept her eye on Dee, though, and saw well enough when her friend blotted her eyes on a cloth napkin. Dee, crying? It was almost unthinkable, like the Hoover Dam springing a leak. “Hey, now, take it easy. We’ll figure this out. Sit down, get your foot up, and tell the big mean ex-cop all your troubles. For real this time.”

      It took a good few minutes before Dee looked up from crumpling the napkin between her fingers. “It might all be my imagination, although heaven knows I listen hard enough. And tonight I was sure I heard boot heels on the deck. Not just once, but from my room and again from yours. Maybe I’ve been staying awake too much, stressing, and my mind is playing tricks on me. God knows I need a decent night’s sleep. I don’t think I’ve had one in months.”

      “What is it that keeps you awake? Pain in your ankle, job stuff, fear of a prowler?”

      “It’s not just a fear,” Dee snapped. “Somebody is prowling around my house at night. Somebody the dogs don’t bark at.”

      Lacey’s domestic violence meter clicked up another notch. The blinds had indeed been an early clue. “Neil? The dogs wouldn’t bark at him, would they? Did he ever hit you, Dee? Or threaten you?”

      “Never. He might have thought about it a few times, but he’d have worried about breaking a nail.” Dee pressed the napkin to her eyes again. Her voice came out muffled under the drooping СКАЧАТЬ