Paranoid(95)

No voices. No hum of the old treadmill. No sounds of anyone. But a scent that was unfamiliar. The hint of musk. She froze and realized that some of the boxes she’d piled down here for recycling had been moved—shuffled around.

Or at least she thought so.

But why?

And where the hell were Harper and Dylan?

The musky odor had disappeared, if it had existed at all, but Rachel felt edgy. She stood stock still and listened, but other than the sound of Reno whining at the basement door she heard no one.

Crap.

Once more she looked around. Searching past shelves of boxes of stuff she hadn’t thrown out, old lamps, paint cans, and boxes of tile left over from the bathroom remodel, she told herself she was overreacting. She swept her gaze through the three rooms, where, as she’d known the second she’d started down the rickety old steps, she would find no one.

A dark fear drizzled through her blood. As she started up the stairs, she began to text Harper, only to hear the back door squeak open and then the sound of footsteps hurrying inside. Along with the footfalls, she heard voices. Harper and Dylan and someone else, a male voice. Xander Vale, no doubt. He just didn’t get the message.

“Mom?” Harper called as Rachel stepped onto the main floor. The back door was hanging open, the security alarm beginning to bleat when Rachel’s phone rang. She checked the tiny screen and saw her mother’s number.

Melinda was returning her call.

Rachel didn’t answer. Not right now, as she spied Lucas, rather than Xander Vale, walking into her kitchen. He was pocketing his phone and keys while Harper carried in a couple of take-out sacks and Dylan in full camo bustled into the pantry to disengage the alarm.

They were safe.

Thank God!

“I thought I told you to stay home,” she said to her children and she heard the edge in her voice. Panic with a touch of anger.

“My fault.” Lucas flashed a sheepish grin. He wore jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt despite the cool weather. “I texted Harper. Wanted to see if she was okay. Mom said she . . .” He let the sentence falter.

Rachel caught his drift. But she was still irritated. “You should have let me know.”

“I thought we’d beat you back,” Harper said.

“Still—”

“Hey, I didn’t want to worry you, okay?” her daughter snapped. “I mean, you’ve been so freaked out, like, all the time, and yeah, I get it. Weird, sick things are happening, but I didn’t see how going out and grabbing tacos and Cokes in the middle of the day would be that big of a deal.” Her eyes sparked with challenge.

“But after last night—”

“Mom. I get it.” She held her mother’s gaze and a slow burning blush was climbing up the back of her neck. She was embarrassed? Because she got caught disobeying? Because Lucas was observing the fight? Or because she thought her mother was a nut job, completely unhinged.

“Fine. Next time, please just let me know,” Rachel said, backing off slightly. “You scared me, is all.”

“Everything scares you!” Harper’s chin inched up a fraction, almost daring her mother into a battle.

Her phone began ringing again.

“Let me get this. It’s Grandma. Calling me back.” She clicked on her cell, then, phone to her ear, walked into the living room, where she would have a little more privacy. “Hey, Mom.”

“Got your message,” Melinda said.

“Yeah, I was just checking in.” Rachel sat on the arm of the couch to look out the living room window, where the fog, thinner now, partially obscured the Dickersons’ front yard.

“I heard about your friend.”

Technically Annessa hadn’t been her “friend,” but she let it pass. “I know. God, it’s so awful.”

“And Harper was there?” How had she heard that already? Not that it mattered. Edgewater was a small town and news traveled through the stores, coffee shops, restaurants, and small businesses like a wildfire caught on the wind.

“Yeah.”

“Traumatic for her.” A pause. “Is she okay?”

Stretching her neck, Rachel looked down the hallway to the kitchen, where Harper was seated at the table, Lucas at the door, Dylan out of sight, probably standing around the corner next to the refrigerator or stove. “It’s hard to tell. She says she is, and she seems as normal as can be expected, but it was rough on her. I kept both of them home from school today.” As she watched, Harper grinned widely and gave a short laugh. She handed Lucas her phone as she sipped from a straw stuck into a cup with the logo of the local Mexican take-out spot. Probably not part of her proclaimed detox regimen.

Lucas took one look at Harper’s cell and his face split into a wide grin that reminded Rachel of Lila. Luke’s son definitely took after his mother’s side of the family.

“I don’t blame you for letting them stay home,” Melinda was saying. “With everything that’s happening here, keep them close. It’s all just so hard. For all of us.”

“You read the paper today?” she asked her mother.

“Yeah, yeah, I did. I told myself not to, that I’d just be upset, but . . . anyway, of course I did, and yes, it was upsetting.” A long sigh. “It’s nothing compared to the murders, of course. Those families are in so much pain and I know what that’s like, but . . .”