Trust Me (Last Stand #1)(24)
Author: Brenda Novak

“I’ll be there.”

“One more thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s formal.”

“Formal?” His tone was a complaint, but she didn’t give him the chance to back out. Getting in her car, she drove away.

The address in the phone book for Jane Burke corresponded to a rental off Sunrise. Tonight that rental was dark and quiet and had been since ten. Skye knew because she’d been sitting across the street in her 1998 Volvo sedan for two hours. This late, there wasn’t much to see. But it was still creepy to be here, to know Burke’s wife and daughter were so close and that he’d be joining them in just three days.

Tilting her seat back, Skye took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes at the building with its peeling paint and the child’s swing hanging from a tree in the front yard. She wanted to leave and not look back, to go on as if what had happened with Burke would never happen again. David would be furious if he knew what she was doing tonight. But she couldn’t leave. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Burke glaring at her as they read the verdict. He planned to come after her. Maybe not right away, but eventually. And how many others would he hurt in the meantime?

She knew what he was. Couldn’t ignore it. Which meant she had to stay one step ahead of him, anticipate his movements, act before he could. If she was lucky, she’d uncover enough evidence to put him away for life. If she wasn’t…

Burke’s blade flashed in her mind’s eye, so real she almost lifted her arms to protect herself. When I get out, I’m going to slit your throat…. He couldn’t have made that call himself. But someone else could’ve made it for him.

Alone on the dark street, frightened by her own thoughts, she grew even more uneasy when a pair of headlights swung around the corner. Ducking so the driver couldn’t see her, she listened for the hum of the motor. But the car didn’t pass as quickly as she expected it to. It decelerated as it drew near, then sped up again and continued down the street.

Why had it slowed? Raising her head long enough to check the rearview mirror, she noted that it was a midsize Lexus, which wouldn’t draw stares in a middle- or upper-class neighborhood but didn’t fit here. This neighborhood was cluttered with dented trucks, economy cars and a few pimped-out sports cars.

Still, she didn’t think much of it until five minutes later, when the same car made another pass.

Again she slid down, listening. This time the Lexus moved at a crawl when it reached her, and she got the uneasy feeling the driver was trying to peer into her windows.

Obviously, she’d caught someone’s interest. Jane’s? There’d been a porch light on when Skye arrived, which had since gone off, but perhaps Jane had left a babysitter in charge of Kate.

Afraid that whoever it was would come by again—and that this time he or she would park and approach the car—Skye waited until the taillights of the Lexus disappeared around the corner. Then she grabbed her flashlight and gun, shoved them into the pocket of her heavy coat, and crept out the passenger side, which fronted a duplex that looked every bit as drab as Jane Burke’s house.

Circling to avoid the light shed by the street lamps, she cut across to Jane’s side yard, where she made a soft clicking sound at the gate to see if Jane had a dog.

No barking, growling, whining or pawing. Nothing.

Lifting the latch, Skye slipped inside.

It didn’t take long to realize that Jane was home. There was a light glowing in back that couldn’t be seen from the street because the garage hid everything except the narrow walkway that approached the front door. Skye could see Oliver’s wife through the living room window, pacing in the kitchen, appearing and then disappearing as she walked back and forth, talking on the phone.

Fortunately, the kitchen blinds were drawn, making it possible for Skye to move close enough to hear her voice.

“I’m telling you that car’s been parked out there all night… I saw someone in it—” Skye couldn’t decipher the next few words. “…Do you think it could be the police? That detective came by the shop earlier…. Can’t you check again? For me?”

Going back to the gate, Skye squatted to peer through a gap in the fence boards, watching for the Lexus—which came rolling down the street for the third time. She couldn’t see the driver—it was too dark inside the vehicle—but the brake lights flashed as whoever it was stopped in front of her Volvo.

A car door opened, then shut. The driver must have been looking inside her car. As the Lexus pulled away a moment later, the phone rang in the house and, through the window, Skye saw Jane pick up. She took her time returning to the back—she didn’t want to bump into anything in her haste—so she missed the first part of Jane’s side of the conversation.

“…It’s just that, well, you know how awful it’s been,” Jane was saying. “I know you weren’t planning to stop, but can’t you come in?… Just tell her I was frightened, that I needed you to check the windows and doors. That’ll give us a few minutes….” Jane must’ve turned away or lowered her head, because Skye could make out only a few more words—“waiting,” “quick,” and “I love you”—before the conversation ended.

Who was Jane talking to? David had said she was still with Oliver, but this made Skye wonder.

Circling to the side again, she watched the Lexus pull up to the curb. A man, about six feet tall, wearing jeans and a heavy jacket, exited the car.

The living room light went on as Jane answered the door, forcing Skye to back away from the window. She was so busy making sure she was out of sight, she didn’t get a good glimpse of Jane’s visitor until Jane had let him in. Then Skye could see him easily enough from her vantage point beside the window—and immediately recognized him. He was Oliver’s brother. Along with the rest of Oliver’s family, he’d attended almost every day of the trial.

Jane had spotted the Volvo across the street and called her brother-in-law to check it out.

Feeling a little guilty for frightening her, Skye pressed her back to the rough stucco wall of the house and stopped watching. Jane was a victim of what Oliver had done, too. She just didn’t understand who she should blame judging by the hate letters she’d sent Skye.

But a final glance inside the house, to ensure that it was safe to let herself out of the yard, left Skye rooted to the grassless earth. Jane was kissing Oliver’s brother—and not the way one would typically kiss a brother-in-law. He had his tongue in her mouth and his hand inside her robe.