No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(32)

A full moon hung low in the sky. After he climbed into his truck, he sat behind the wheel for a few minutes, staring out at the moon before starting the engine. The night he’d picked up that hitchhiker had been so much like this. He remembered a big, portentous moon and the same cool breeze blowing the trees, carrying the fecund scent of moist earth and growing things...

But the similarity didn’t mean anything. He was merely letting his fears get the best of him.

He shifted his gaze to the left, in the direction of his parents’ graves. He’d buried them on the farm, in the far corner. He’d felt they’d want that. He needed to take Angela out there, to show her their headstones and let her say goodbye. Maybe then she’d quit asking when their parents were coming back, as she had again tonight.

Shifting into Reverse, he backed out of the drive.

The highway was empty, as he’d expected. Even the two bars in town would be closed this time of night. He figured there might be a few cops out—was afraid he’d be unlucky enough to run into Sly or someone else on the force.

Fortunately, that didn’t happen. He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned down the street where Sadie lived, a few blocks off the main drag, and rolled slowly past the expensive home that fronted her one-bedroom.

Everything looked quiet in the neighborhood, but he couldn’t see Sadie’s place from the street, so “quiet” didn’t tell him anything. After parking at the corner, he walked back to be sure.

A light glimmered around the edges of the blinds in her front window, but that wasn’t necessarily reason for concern. Maybe she couldn’t sleep, either. Maybe she wanted to be prepared in case something happened, or she’d fallen asleep reading and hadn’t gotten up to turn it off. She might even leave that light on at night for the sake of her child, so he could find the bathroom or whatever.

Dawson didn’t see a patrol car or any other vehicle parked behind her El Camino. If Sly was there, arguing with her—or doing anything else—he would’ve had to block her in, because the drive was so narrow, or park out on the street, as Dawson had, and Dawson hadn’t seen him.

He checked his phone, as he’d been doing every few minutes. Nothing. She hadn’t responded to his text.

Briefly, he considered knocking on the door. He’d come this far, hated to go home without achieving any reassurance. But chances were he’d only wake her child or scare her to death by appearing so unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

Convinced he’d done all he could do, he turned to leave. But then he heard his phone chime and glanced down at it.

There she was.

I’m okay. You?

He scratched his head. He was fairly certain his hair was standing up on one side. He hadn’t put much thought into his appearance when he left the house.

I’m fine.

Why aren’t you sleeping? You were exhausted when I left.

He was always exhausted these days. He was working too hard not to be. Because I’m not in bed.

Don’t tell me you’re working!

No, I’m standing outside your door.

What? Why?

You sounded so upset earlier. I was concerned there might be trouble—wasn’t sure how bad things might get. But now that I know you’re okay, I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.

The door opened before he could get too far and she called out to him in a loud whisper. “Dawson!”

She was wearing an overlarge T-shirt, her legs and feet bare, her face devoid of makeup and her hair mussed. Obviously, she’d taken no thought for her appearance, either. But he liked it—more than if she’d been all made up. There was something sexy, intimate about seeing her this way.

He walked closer so they could talk without waking her landlady or anyone else. “Sorry to disturb you. After what happened to my folks, I guess I was...assuming the worst. I let my imagination get the best of me.”

“I can’t believe you came to check on me, especially so late. That’s really nice.”

“It’s no big deal. I’ll see you tomorrow—”

“Wait! Where’s your car?”

“Down the street.”

That seemed to bring her some relief. “That’s good. With Sly dropping by all the time... Well, never mind. Anyway, would you like to come in for a drink before you go? I mean, you’re already here.”

He was about to say no. He had to work in the morning; nothing mattered more to him than saving the farm. But she was right. He was here, and he was more than a little curious about how she lived—not to mention intrigued by her apparel, or lack of apparel.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m too on edge to sleep, anyway.” She gave a nervous laugh. “The slightest noise disturbs me.”

He understood. It’d been the same for him. Expecting some sort of reprisal from a man like Sly had a way of putting a person on pins and needles. After what he’d been through, both with the death of his parents and what he’d experienced at the hands of police since, Dawson felt like he was particularly sensitive to the possibilities.

“It’d be nice to...to have someone to talk to for a few minutes,” she added when he hesitated. “A little adult conversation might give me the chance to get my feet underneath me again.”

She needed company, someone close at hand to provide a sense of security, at least until she could calm down.