She swallowed hard. The turnoff to the county road that wandered past her house was less than a mile away. She was still pretending to talk on the phone as the road wound down a hillside. Still the vehicle behind her lagged. “Good, you bastard. Back off,” she said into her garage door opener. Around a final curve in the road, and the Jeep slid only slightly before straightening.

She glanced in the mirror.

Nothing.

No headlights.

Yet.

She punched the accelerator, expected to see the glare of the vehicle at any second.

But the darkness of the night surrounded her.

She reached the turnoff to the county road alone.

No headlights followed, and though she turned off the radio, she heard no sound of another vehicle’s engine over the rumble of her Jeep.

>

Had whoever was following her turned off?

Or was he following her without headlights?

That’s ridiculous.

Yet her skin crawled at the thought, and she squinted hard into the rearview mirror.

Hadn’t she thought someone had been watching her from the belltower of the theater? Could that hidden someone have left the building, watched her drive to the pizza parlor, and followed her? But why?

To terrorize you. Just like he did with the note.

“But he’s gone,” she said, then realized she was talking to herself. Not a good sign. One more quick glance in all the mirrors told her she was alone on the road.

Whoever had been following her had turned off.

And there was a chance that he’d just been a bad driver, one who tailgated, one who inadvertently hit his bright lights…

And your bumper? Yeah, right!

Her attention split between the road ahead and the dark night behind her, she turned on the county road leading to her home, taking the corner faster than she would have if her nerves hadn’t been stretched tight, and fishtailed around the corner. Once the Jeep had straightened and the tires grabbed the road again, she punched the accelerator up a final rise and over a hill until she spied the open gates at the end of her driveway.

Gates that should have been closed, now that they were working again, Hans having melted the ice and reconnected the faulty wires.

Again her heart clutched. What if someone had gotten inside? Someone with bad intentions? Don’t be nuts. They’ve been open for eighteen months without incident. You’re just borrowing trouble!

She drove past the rock pillars and on the far side, hit the button on her electronic remote. With a whir, the gates started to close behind her. Another poke of the garage door opener and the heavy door lifted. As she pulled in, she caught a glimpse of Allie standing in the kitchen, backlit by the overhead lights. She was waving frantically, and before Jenna could get out of the car, she was racing outside, across the breezeway, wearing only her pajamas and slippers. Critter was bounding beside her, his entire body wiggling at the sight of Jenna.

“Are you crazy?” Jenna demanded of her daughter as Allie opened the side door to the garage. “Go into the house and get your jacket and boots!” She was hauling her purse and the pizza out of the car while sidestepping the exuberant dog.

“But I’m hungry,” Allie protested, launching herself at the pizza carton and nearly flattening Jenna in the process.

“I’m getting it to you as quickly as I can. Come on, back into the house. Both of you!” She shepherded her daughter and dog into the kitchen, where warm air hit her in a welcome blast. “What’re you thinking, Allie?”

Cassie, seated in a chair with her feet propped up on the hearth in the den, was flipping through a magazine. “Sometimes she doesn’t think, Mom,” she said.

“At least I don’t sneak out.” Allie was already pulling the pizza box from Jenna’s arms.

“You’re too dorky to even think about it.”

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net