Hidden Identity. Carol J. Post

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СКАЧАТЬ a window on each side of the door, dressed with sheer curtains.

      He tensed, all his senses on high alert. Did he just see movement inside?

      Meagan reached for the door handle. “Thanks for—”

      He held up a palm, eyes glued to the window. Beyond the curtains was a living room area. A wall at the back separated it from what was probably the kitchen. Had someone slipped behind that wall, startled by the truck’s headlights?

      “What is it?” It was just three words, spoken in the softest whisper, but fear permeated each one.

      Before he could answer, a crouched figure darted from behind the wall and disappeared out the back door. Judging from Meagan’s gasp, she saw it, too.

      He turned off the engine, jumped out and pocketed the keys. “Stay here, and keep the truck locked.”

      When he rounded the rear of the house, no one was there. He hesitated only a moment, eyes straining in the darkness. A fence bordered the back, the boundary of the yard behind Meagan’s. A hedge separated her property from the one next door. He charged off in that direction.

      No one was in that yard, either. He sprinted along the hedge toward the street, then into a couple more yards. Finally, he admitted defeat and jogged back toward his truck. Another series of streaks lit up the sky, and thunder rumbled. But the storm seemed to be moving away. It might bypass them altogether.

      As he approached his truck, apprehension shot through him. Meagan was gone. His gaze shot to the darkened house. If she had gone inside, she would have turned on the lights. Had the intruder circled around and forced her from the truck?

      “Meagan?” No answer. He called her name again, louder and sharper.

      Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he snapped his head around in time to see her rise inside the truck. He almost crumpled in relief. She had apparently been crouched on the floorboard, hiding.

      He tapped on the window. She was in the seat now, eyes wide. Since she didn’t appear anywhere near ready to unlock the door, he used the key.

      “I’m sorry. He got away.”

      She nodded, but made no move to get out. Her green eyes were still wide, her face pasty in the shadows inside the truck. She looked so vulnerable, it kicked his protective instincts into overdrive.

      “I’m going to call for help. Then we’ll go in together. Okay?”

      She nodded again. She appeared stunned. Shell-shocked. She was hiding from someone. And terrified of being caught.

      How long had it been? Just since coming to Cedar Key? Or had she lived other places, too, taking off whenever that someone got too close? Living like a nomad. Always looking over her shoulder. Never safe. Never at rest. He had to find a way to help her. But she would have to tell him what she was afraid of.

      He made the call, then pocketed the phone. “The police are on the way. Let’s go inside. I’ll stay with you.” He would bring her bike in later.

      He took her hand to help her from the truck. But even after she was on her feet, he didn’t release her. He led her toward the house, still keeping her hand in his. It just seemed the right thing to do.

      When they had stepped onto the porch, she stopped and looked up at him. There was softness in her gaze, and it touched something deep inside him, something that had been dead for a long time.

      He dropped her hand and squashed whatever it was that had just passed between them.

      Four years ago, his life had been perfect. He’d been living in Ocala, surrounded by family and friends and engaged to Denise, his childhood sweetheart. Three weeks before their wedding date, she’d been on her way to meet the wedding planner when a drunk driver had crossed the line. Her life was over in an instant.

      That was when he’d packed up and made a fresh start on Cedar Key. Now, four years later, time had taken the edge off the pain. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was good. As long as he stayed busy.

      Meagan attempted a shaky smile but didn’t quite succeed. “Thanks. I’m glad you were here.”

      “Yeah. Me, too.” If she’d been alone, she likely would have walked in on the intruder.

      After she unlocked the door, he followed her inside. She flipped a switch, and soft yellow light chased the shadows from the room. It was sparsely furnished. A wooden desk sat in one corner with a lamp on top. A couch occupied part of another wall, with a coffee table in front of it. Across the room was a small stand with an even smaller television perched on top.

      Most striking, though, was the total lack of personal belongings. There were no pictures, no knickknacks, nothing to make the space distinctly hers. Like a motel room.

      Or the residence of someone who needed to travel light.

      When he stepped into the kitchen, it didn’t take long to figure out how the intruder had gained access. The French-style back door was open, the pane of glass next to the knob broken. A wrench lay on the stoop.

      “Does that belong to you?” He angled his head that direction.

      Her eyes widened. “No. Maybe he used it to break the window, then dropped it when he ran.”

      The doorbell rang, and a second later the front door swung inward. Bobby, the officer on duty, stood there.

      Hunter filled him in on everything that had happened. “We know how the intruder gained access, but we don’t know why.” He turned to Meagan. “Anything missing?”

      She disappeared into her bedroom, then reappeared moments later. Apparently that room was as sparsely furnished as the living room. “Not that I can tell.”

      Bobby addressed her. “I’m going to try to lift some prints. I’ll dust the door, the knob and the wrench. Anything else look like it’s been disturbed?”

      Meagan didn’t respond. She was standing in the center of the kitchen, brows drawn together.

      Hunter stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”

      “The stove is crooked. Maybe it’s been like that, but I’ve never noticed it before.”

      “I’ll dust that, too.” Bobby turned to leave the room.

      Her eyes grew wide, and she drew in a sharp breath. “No, no fingerprints.”

      Bobby turned back around, brows raised in question.

      Meagan continued. “I mean, it makes such a mess. I’m sure whoever came in was wearing gloves.”

      Bobby frowned. “We might have a burglar loose in Cedar Key. This is our chance to catch him before he breaks into any other houses.”

      “It’s just so messy.” Her voice had lost its fire.

      “Not really,” Bobby argued. “It’s not that difficult to clean up, especially from hard surfaces. I’m going to go get my kit, and I’ll be finished in no time.”

      As he disappeared out the СКАЧАТЬ