Roadside Crosses (Kathryn Dance 2)

She wondered if the original poster would reply, hitting back.

Leaning toward the computer, Kelley heard yet another noise outside.

"That's it," she said aloud. She rose, but didn't go to the window. Instead she walked out of her room and into the kitchen, peeking outside. Didn't see anything . . . or did she? Was there a shadow in the canyon behind the shrubs at the back of the property?

None of her family was home, her parents working, her brother at practice.

Laughing uneasily to herself: It was less scary for her to go outside and meet a hulking pervert face-to-face than to see him looking into her window. Kelley glanced at the magnetic knife rack. The blades were totally sharp. Debated. But she left the weapons where they were. Instead she held her iPhone up to her ear and walked outside. "Hi, Ginny, yeah, I heard something outside. I'm just going to go see."

The conversation was pretend, but he--or it--wouldn't know that.

"No, I'll keep talking. Just in case there's some asshole out there." Talking loud.

The door opened onto the side yard. She headed toward the back, then, approaching the corner, she slowed. Finally she stepped tentatively into the backyard. Empty. At the end of the property, beyond a thick barrier of plants, the ground dropped away steeply into county land--a shallow canyon filled with brush and some jogging trails.

"So, how's it going? Yeah . . . yeah? Sweet. Way sweet."

Okay. Don't overdo it, she thought. Your acting sucks.

Kelley eased to the row of foliage and peered through it into the canyon. She thought she saw someone moving away from the house.

Then, not too far away, she saw some kid in sweats on a bike, taking one of the trails that was a shortcut between Pacific Grove and Monterey. He turned left and vanished behind a hill.

Kelley put the phone away. She started to return to the house when she noticed something out of place in the back planting beds. A little dot of color. Red. She walked over to it and picked up the flower petal. A rose. Kelley let the crescent flutter back to the ground.

She returned to the house.

A pause, looking back. No one, no animals. Not a single Abominable Snowman or werewolf.

She stepped inside. And froze, gasping.

In front of her, ten feet away, a human silhouette was approaching, features indistinct because of the backlighting from the living room.

"Who--?"

The figure stopped. A laugh. "Jesus, Kel. You are so freaked. You look . . . gimme your phone. I want a picture."

Her brother, Ricky, reached for her iPhone.

"Get out!" Kelley said, grimacing and twisting away from his outstretched hand. "Thought you had practice."

"Needed my sweats. Hey, you hear about that girl in the trunk? She goes to Stevenson."

"Yeah, I've seen her. Tammy Foster."

"She hot?" The lanky sixteen-year-old, with a mop of brown hair that matched her own, headed for the refrigerator and grabbed a power drink.

"Ricky, you're so gross."

"Uh-huh. So? Is she?"

Oh, she hated brothers. "When you leave, lock the door."

Ricky screwed his face into a huge frown. "Why? Who'd wanna molest you?"

"Lock it!"

"Like, okay."