Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(29)

She nodded, then finally asked the question that had been nagging at her ever since she’d seen him again. “Any little Delaneys running around yet?”

“Nope. How about you? You gotten married since I last saw you?”

She shook her head. “What can I say? Obsessed with my career, I guess.”

“You’ve got to have a life, though, you know.”

“I do have a life! A great life,” she told him. “I’m sure you do, too.”

He smiled and shrugged. “No, not so much.”

She found herself trying to slug down hot tea. “I guess that’s your choice.”

“Yes, I guess it has been.”

Suddenly uncomfortable sitting so close and talking almost personally, Charlie stood, taking her cup with her. “I guess I should go to bed. Early call tomorrow.”

He smiled. “No problem. Get some sleep,” he told her as he rose and started heading for the door.

“You’re leaving? I—I thought you were going to stay. There’s the sofa—or one of the other rooms. There are two more bedrooms upstairs, my dad’s and the guest room.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m just going to take a last look around outside.”

“I’m not going to bed until you’re safely back inside.”

“What did you hear exactly? What spooked you? Was it someone...?”

“It was someone living,” she said flatly. “Not that I’m all that experienced with the dead, but I’m pretty sure if someone wanted to haunt me it wouldn’t matter if I locked the door or not.”

“Not that any of us is an expert, but I agree with you.”

“I’m going with you,” she said, coming to a sudden decision, ready to insist if he denied her.

“Okay.”

Surprised, she followed him to the door and stuck close behind him as they walked out.

“There was a thump against the front door,” she said, slamming a hand against the wood. “Sounded like that. But I looked out and didn’t see anyone. Then, a little while later, I thought I heard someone at the parlor window.”

“Okay.”

She followed him past the row of bushes growing in front of the house. He got to the window she’d mentioned, then left and walked to the next, where he ran his fingers along the outer sill, producing a noticeable scratching sound.

“Is that what you heard?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

He didn’t say anything as he continued walking around the entire house, checking the foliage as he went. He checked the back door, but it was firmly locked. They kept going until they came around to the front again. He opened the door for her to go on in.

“You think I’m hearing things,” she said, pausing. She prayed it wasn’t worse, that he didn’t think she’d made up a story to get him over to her house.

He shook his head. “I know you don’t make things up,” he said softly, then urged her inside. “Early call,” he reminded her. “You should go up to bed.”

“I should. I will. Right now,” she said.

“Good night, then.”

“You’re not leaving?”

“I’ll be here,” he promised her.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You got it.”

Charlie hurried up the stairs. She didn’t turn on the light, just closed the door to her room and walked over to the window. There was nothing to be seen. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been outside the house, watching, waiting for her to step out alone.

But Ethan had come when she asked, and she wasn’t alone anymore.

She dressed for bed and lay down, listening. Whatever he was doing downstairs, she couldn’t hear anything.

She knew she was only fantasizing when she hoped he would come up the stairs. If he did, of course she would tell him to go away.

No, she wouldn’t.

She tried to fall asleep, thinking of that early call.

It didn’t help. No matter how hard she tried to fall asleep, the effort went badly.

*

Charlie didn’t imagine things.

Once she was upstairs, Ethan stepped back outside. He’d never been much of a hunter. He just didn’t take pleasure in killing things. Odd, maybe, that he’d wound up in the FBI, where there were bound to be times when he had to kill a person. He wasn’t sure what a shrink would think about that.

He’d been hunting enough, though, to learn a fair amount about tracking.

And he didn’t need to be the finest tracker in the world to be able to verify what he thought he’d seen when he’d been out with Charlie.

Flattened grass, broken twigs and a scratch on the windowsill, as if someone had tried to pry at it.

He hunkered down and studied the ground by the window. He was pretty sure whoever had been there had covered their shoes, explaining the vague shape and flatness of the indentations in the earth. That made him equally sure they’d been wearing gloves.

That would have stood out if they were downtown, where people were everywhere. But out here where Charlie lived, most houses were set on several acres. It would be easy to dress like Godzilla and go unnoticed. Gloves and bootees were nothing.

He stood, went back in and studied the house’s security measures. Good windows that closed tightly, latches snug, and locked, bolts on the doors. Even so, no place was impregnable, and there was no alarm. That wasn’t good.