The yard wasn’t totally dark, because neighbors on each side had outside lights on and second-story windows were lit, too. Even so, she was almost to the back door when she saw that the siding looked funny. Like…something was smeared on it?
Heart pounding, she unlocked and flipped the switch that turned on lights both over this door and on each side of the French doors that led from the dining room onto the deck. They were enough to illuminate the entire tiny enclosed backyard. She was alone out there.
Still cautious—someone could have hoisted himself to watch over the fence—she took only a couple of steps out so she could see.
Words seemed to be scrawled in dark paint all over the lower rear of her town house. They started small at the far corner, getting bigger and bolder as they got closer.
“Sorry Sorry Sorry.” Over and over and over.
Dear God.
Gasping, Cait scurried back inside and locked the door, leaning against it until she could catch her breath.
911? Colin?
Noah.
Her hands shook as she pulled her phone from her bag and scrolled for his last call, then pushed Send.
“Please, please, please,” she whispered.
“Cait?” he said.
“Blake has been back,” she said, and her voice shook, too.
* * *
NOAH DROVE SO quickly he should have gotten a ticket. He’d have been glad to pick up a cop on the way.
“It’s not an emergency,” she had assured him and then sounded embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry. I guess I just need to report this and then…” She’d lapsed into silence.
And then what? he thought savagely as he rocketed around a corner. She’d go to bed and get a good night’s rest?
He slammed to a stop in front of her town house, lit from top to bottom, and ran up on the porch. He was reaching for the doorbell when the door opened. Cait had been watching for him.
He hated seeing how finely drawn her features were, how pale her face was. Even so, she gave a brave attempt at a smile.
“I really shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry, Noah. I panicked.”
He stepped over the threshold, shouldered the door closed and took her in his arms. For a moment she stayed stiff, vibrating like high-tension wires, but then as if someone had pulled the plug on the power, she sagged against him. Her arms came around him, and he felt her grab handfuls of his dress shirt as if afraid he’d push her away.
She wasn’t crying, but fine tremors shook her body. In the heels, she was tall enough to bury her face against his neck, where he had unbuttoned his shirt earlier after ripping off the tie the minute he’d walked in the door at home.
“Of course you should have called me,” he murmured. He kept on, probably repeating the same thing half a dozen times before progressing to, “I’d have been pissed if you didn’t. I’m sorry. Damn it, I’m sorry.”
Her shoulders shook, and for a moment he thought she finally had broken down, but then he realized she was laughing.
Whatever had struck her as funny gave her the strength to pull back. Noah reluctantly let her go, realizing the laughter had the shrillness of hysteria.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” she asked.
“That we haven’t been able to stop this son of a bitch.” He frowned, realizing what he was most sorry about. “I don’t like you having to come home alone at night,” he said more slowly.
“None of it’s your fault.”
“It’s because you’re working for me that you have so damn many evening meetings.”
“This kind of job always does,” Cait pointed out, steadier now. “I considered applying for a couple of jobs in California. Would it be better if this was happening in Santa Rosa or Escondido? Where I don’t know anybody?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. Have you called your brother?”
“Yes. Right after you.” She cocked her head. “That’s probably him now.”
It was. He opened the front door to see Colin moving as fast across the pocket-size front yard as he had earlier. Noah would have sworn McAllister’s dark SUV was still rocking.
Her brother’s gaze went to her face first, assessing, worried. Then it hardened when he looked at Noah.