Stranger in the Shadows. Shirlee McCoy

woman except for Chloe.

      Her heart-jumping, pulse-pounding days of infatuation were over. Adam’s betrayal had ensured that. Still, if she’d had her camera in hand, she might have been tempted to shoot a picture, capture Ben’s rugged good looks on film.

      “Trying to think of a way out of this?” Ben’s words drew her from her thoughts. She shook her head, her cheeks heating.

      “Just wishing Opal hadn’t asked you to give me a ride. Like I said, you’ve already done enough.”

      “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” His hand closed around her elbow, the warmth of his palm sinking through the heavy fabric of her jacket as he smiled down into her eyes.

      And her traitorous, hadn’t-learned-its-lesson heart skipped a beat.

      She wanted to pull away, but knew that would only call attention to her discomfort, so she allowed herself to be led out into the cool fall night and across the parking lot toward the trees that edged the property. Evergreens, oaks and shadows shifted and changed as Chloe and Ben moved closer. Was there someone watching? Maybe the same someone she’d seen that morning.

      Chloe tensed, the blackness of the evening pressing in around her and stealing her breath. “Where’s your car?”

      “It’s at my place. Just through these trees.”

      Just through the trees.

      As if walking through the woods at night was nothing. As if there weren’t a million hiding places in the dense foliage, a hundred dangers that could be concealed there. Chloe tried to pick up the pace, but her throbbing leg protested, her feet tangling in thick undergrowth. She tripped, stumbling forward.

      Ben tightened his hold on her elbow, pulling her back and holding her steady as she regained her balance, his warmth, his strength seeping into her and easing the terror that clawed at her throat. “Careful. There are a lot of roots and tree stumps through here.”

      “It’s hard to be careful when I can’t see a thing.”

      “Don’t worry. I can see well enough for both of us.” His voice was confident, his hand firm on her arm as he strode through the darkness, and for a moment Chloe allowed herself to believe she was safe, that the nightmare she’d lived was really over.

      Seconds later, they were out of the woods, crossing a wide yard and heading toward a small ranch-style house. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”

      “It’s cute.”

      “That’s what people keep telling me.”

      “You don’t think so?”

      “Cute isn’t my forte, but my wife, Theresa, probably would have enjoyed hearing the word over and over again. Unfortunately, she passed away a year before I finished seminary and never got a chance to see the place.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Me, too.”

      “You must miss her.”

      “I do. She had cystic fibrosis and was really sick at the end. I knew I had to let her go, but it was still the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

      Chloe understood that. Despite anger and bitterness over Adam’s unfaithfulness, she still mourned his loss, and desperately wished she could have saved him. She imagined that years from now she’d feel the same, grieving his death and all that might have been. “I understand.”

      “You’ve lost someone close to you?” He pulled the car door open, and gestured for her to get in, his gaze probing hers.

      “My fiancé.” Ex-fiancé, but Chloe didn’t say as much. “He died eleven months ago.”

      “Then I guess you do know.” He waited until she slid into the car, then shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. “Had you known each other long?”

      “Three years. We were supposed to be married this past June.” But things had gone horribly wrong even before the accident and they’d cancelled the wedding a month before Adam’s death.

      “Then today’s wedding must have been tough.”

      Chloe shrugged, not wanting to acknowledge even to herself just how tough it had been. Dreams. Hopes. Promises. The day had been built on the fairy tale of happily-ever-after and watching it unfold had made Chloe long for what she knew was only an illusion. “Not as hard as it would have been a few months ago.”

      “That’s the thing about time. It doesn’t heal the wounds, but it does make them easier to bear.” He smiled into her eyes before he started the car’s engine, the curve of his lips, the electricity in his gaze, doing exactly what Chloe didn’t want it to—making her heart jump and her pulse leap, whispering that if she wasn’t careful she’d end up being hurt again.

      FIVE

      It was close to seven when Chloe pulled her Mustang up to the Victorian that housed her apartment. Built on a hill, it offered a view of water and mountains, sky and grassland, the wide front porch and tall, gabled windows perfect for taking in the scenery. When Opal had brought her to look at the place the previous week, Chloe had been intrigued by the exterior. Walking through the cheery one-bedroom apartment Opal’s friend had been renting out, seeing its hardwood floors and Victorian trim, modern kitchen and old-fashioned claw-foot tub, had sealed the deal. She knew she wanted to live there.

      Unlike so many other places she’d lived in, this one felt like home.

      Tonight though, it looked sinister. The windows dark, the lonely glow of the porch light doing nothing to chase away the blackness. Her car was the only one in the long driveway and Chloe’s gaze traveled the length of the house, the edges of the yard, the stands of trees and clumps of bushes, searching for signs of danger. There were none, but that didn’t make her feel better. She knew just how quickly quiet could turn to chaos, safety to danger.

      She also knew she couldn’t stay in the car waiting for one of the other tenants to return home or for daylight to come.

      She stepped out of the car, jogging toward the house, her pulse racing as something slithered in the darkness to her right. A squirrel searching for fall harvest? A deer hoping for still-green foliage?

      Or something worse?

      Her heart slammed against her ribs as she took the porch steps two at a time. The front door was unlocked, left that way by one of the other tenants, and Chloe shoved it open, stumbling across the threshold and into the foyer, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, her nerves screaming a warning.

      Shut the door. Turn the lock. Get in the apartment.

      The lock turned under her trembling fingers, her bad leg nearly buckling as she ran up the stairs to her apartment. She shoved the key into the lock, swung the door open. Slammed it shut again.

      Safe.

      Her heart slowed. Her gasping terror-filled breaths eased. Everything was fine. There was nothing outside that she needed to fear. Even if there was, she was locked in the house, locked in her apartment.

      A loud bang sounded from somewhere below, and Chloe jumped, her fear back and clawing up her throat.

      The back door.

      The realization hit as the step at the bottom of the stairs creaked, the telltale sound sending Chloe across the room. She grabbed the phone, dialed 911, her heart racing so fast it felt as though it would burst from her chest.

      Blackness threatened, panic stealing her breath and her oxygen, but Chloe refused to let it have her, forcing herself to breath deeply. To take action.

      She grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen, her gaze on the door, her eyes widening with horror as the old-fashioned glass knob began to turn.

      Chloe clutched the phone in one hand and the knife in the other, praying the lock would hold and