Shirlee McCoy - Secrets And Lies

“What—?”

“Stay here,” he cut her off, flicking off the light and plunging the hallway into darkness.

* * *

Tristan didn’t wait for Ariel to respond. He assumed she’d do what he’d asked her to. For the baby’s sake as much as her own.

He jogged back into the office, called for Jesse to heel and then made his way to the front door. Someone was outside. That much was certain. Jesse knew the difference between a person walking past and someone lurking nearby. He only barked when he sensed danger.

He was barking loudly, doing everything he could to get his message across.

“Cease,” Tristan commanded, and Jesse went silent.

The office window looked out into the backyard. They’d go out the front, move around the side of the building, and hopefully surprise whoever had been trying to peek inside.

The sun had set, hints of light still flecking the horizon and turning the evening a dusky blue. There were few houses on Ariel’s street, the dead-end road isolated. Maybe she’d intended it that way, but it wasn’t the best situation for a woman alone. A pregnant woman alone. She might be fit and tough, but the baby would slow her down if she ran into trouble.

He surveyed the front yard, eyeing the house across the street. The lights were on there, a Toyota Camry parked in the driveway. To the left, a small rancher stood about a half-acre away. To the right, an empty lot stretched toward a fenced property. Plenty of places for someone to stay hidden. Watching a house like Ariel’s was as easy as taking out binoculars and looking through them. She had no large trees. No shrubs. Nothing to block a person’s view of the front door.

That worried him.

Someone had been outside.

He was certain of that. Jesse never issued a false alert.

The gunman? If so, the guy was taking his sweet time acting. He could have fired a few shots in the window in the hope of hitting his target. That’s what he’d done at the school, firing blindly as Ariel disappeared around a corner, and then again while she was on the other side of the door.

Why wait this time?

The question made him cautious. He didn’t pull his gun, just let Jesse have his lead, following the dog around the corner of the house. Tristan stopped there, listening to the night sounds—a few birds calling in the distance, an animal rustling in the bushes a few feet away.

Not a sound from the backyard. No footsteps. No sign that the perpetrator was attempting to enter the house, no indication that he was leaving. But someone was there. Jesse clawed at the ground, twitching in his desire to finish what they’d started.

Tristan held him back, creeping closer to the edge of the house and peering around the corner. He could see someone, a dark shadow backlit by the porch light, pressing against the screened window.

A man?

If so, he wasn’t a tall one.

“Police!” Tristan warned. “Don’t move.”

The person jumped, nearly falling over in his haste to move away from the window.

“One more step, and I’ll release my dog,” Tristan warned.

The person either didn’t hear or didn’t care. He took off, running down the porch stairs, flying across the yard, a hood pulled up over his hair and shrouding what looked like a pale face.

Caucasian. Five-six. Slight build.

He filed the information way as he released Jesse’s lead.

“Get him!” he commanded, and the dog took off, closing in on the perpetrator in the blink of an eye.

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