Out of Love by

I didn’t rule out telling Aunt Jessica … eventually.

Just a few yards away from the convenience store dumpster, they found the man who tried to rape me—with his throat slit. As for who killed him? That remained an ongoing investigation with no witnesses and no leads. The suspicious part was they found bloody prints from a dog, but the man who tried to rape me wasn’t killed by an animal. I told the police that I thought I saw a brief shadow … almost like a ghost of a dog disappearing into the distance.

“I’m not leaving you.” Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at me perched on the sofa watching HGTV as the other girls waited at the door with their suits on, cooler packed.

“I’m fine.” I smiled.

“Then why aren’t you going with us? You don’t have to surf. You can chill with me.” Aubrey prodded. “I should call your dad. If he finds out we didn’t—”

“Dude!” I pressed the heels of my hands to my temples. “I have three stitches. The man is dead. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like the beach today. Is that a crime?”

All three of my friends cringed at my outburst.

I sighed, drawing my knees toward my chest and resting my chin on them, gaze on the television. “Sorry. I’m just … fine. Please go and have fun for me. One day. Give me one more day. I’m going back to school tomorrow. Can we just forget about this? Please.”

After a few seconds of silence, Aubrey nodded. “Lock the door when we leave. Keep your phone by you. I’ll be checking in regularly.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I relinquished a small smirk and sideways glance.

Seconds after the door closed behind them, I jumped off the sofa and locked it. Then I checked the back door and all the windows. After I made a sandwich, I peeked out the back windows and the front windows. “You’re paranoid,” I murmured to myself. Then I slowly unlocked the front door. I could sit on the porch. I did it all the time. It was safe. Nothing to fear.

Yet … all I felt was fear.

As I eased the door open an inch, I froze.

Like a stone statue, Jericho sat outside my front door. No Slade in sight.

“Hey …” I opened the door the rest of the way. “What are you doing, Jerry?” I glanced right and left.

Nope. No Slade.

I feathered my fingers over his head and back, continuing to survey the area for … anyone. “Are you thirsty?”

He collapsed into a downward position, facing the street.

“Come,” I nodded toward the door.

He ignored me.

“Okay. I’ll be right back. You just … I don’t know. Wait for me.” I grinned while disappearing into the house to fill a bowl with water. When I set it beside him, he took a few slurps before resuming his position like a guard dog.

“Are you here for me?” I sat on the stone porch in the shade next to him. “There’s no way he lost you. So …” I stared at the firehouse, looking for any signs of my asshole neighbor. What if something happened to him? I wondered if I was the only other person Jericho knew besides Slade. However, Jericho didn’t know where I lived. So that didn’t make sense.

“You’re a pretty boy. Did you know that?” I brushed my hand along his back several times. A few minutes later, I grabbed my computer and pulled a chair next to my guard dog to get some schoolwork done and respond to the texts Aubrey sent me every thirty minutes. Other than the occasional pissing in the sparse area of grass, Jericho stayed next to me all afternoon.

When the girls pulled into the driveway, he stood and trotted toward the firehouse.

“Jerry?” I called after him.

He kept going like a robot programmed to stay until they returned.

“What’s going on?” Missy asked as they climbed out, hair damp and windblown, faces freshly kissed by the sun.

I returned my gaze to Jericho who disappeared to the backside of the firehouse. “I think he sent his dog to protect me.”

Kara laughed. “Unlikely. Seriously … what was he doing here?”

I shrugged, moving the chair back to its spot. “I’m serious. I don’t know. He appeared shortly after you left. Then he just … took off when you pulled into the driveway.”

“And Slade?” Missy’s single eyebrow peaked.

“No sign of him.”

“Do you think it was him?” Kara opened the door, and we shuffled inside.

“What do you mean?” I plopped down on the sofa with my computer.

“Do you think it was Slade who killed your abductor?”

I gazed out the window and shook my head slowly. “No. He’s … a creep. Mysterious. And maybe a druggie. But my gut tells me he’s not a killer. Killers don’t send their dogs to guard the doors of women they despise.”