Chapter 44

RILEY

I took the flour and baking powder out of the pantry, feeling a little better with something to keep me busy. Alex didn't have a lot of cocoa, but there was enough for what I needed. When I got back to Sunrise Bay, I planned to buy a shopping cart full of groceries and give them to him. Alex had been so generous with his time and home that I didn't know how I could ever repay him.

The satellite phone beeped, and with the mixing bowl in my arms, I walked to the dining table and smiled. Just as he'd promised, Eric had texted me to let me know they'd arrived in Broomfield. I checked the time. Depending on how many photos the police wanted them to go through, I might have another ninety minutes to finish the cake and make lunch for everyone.

Sherlock padded over to the back door and scratched at the frame.

"Do you want to go outside?"

His big brown eyes stared up at me, pleading.

"Okay, but only a quick trip." I left the bowl on the dining table and unlocked the door. "I told your dad we wouldn't leave the house."

Sherlock ran outside, but as soon as he stepped off the veranda, he turned and whined.

"You'll be okay." My encouraging words didn't seem to make any difference. Sherlock's head swung toward the trees. I couldn't blame him for going stir crazy. Staying inside wasn't my idea of fun either.

"It's okay, boy. Do your business, then come inside." I forced a smile, hoping Sherlock made the most of his moment of freedom.

He didn't move.

I looked at the mixing bowl, then back at Sherlock. With Chapman at the police station, the chance of anything happening was about as high as being attacked by a bear. A couple of minutes outside wouldn't hurt.

The infrared beam across the front door twinkled like a Christmas light. Eric would already know I'd opened the door. What he wouldn't realize was why I'd gone outside. Before he panicked, I sent him a quick text. I looked around the kitchen, turned off the oven, and peeked inside Alex's office.

Four monitors displayed what the external security cameras saw. No vehicles or people in the driveway, the barn was clear, and the only activity along the side of the house was two geese waddling across the grass. Alex's home had every high-tech gadget known to mankind, and just for once, I wished I didn't feel like a goldfish in a plastic bowl.

Sherlock barked.

I ran out of the office, grabbed my backpack, and closed the door. As soon as Sherlock saw me, he ran toward the trees, his black coat gleaming in the sun. Taking a deep breath, I followed him. It was another hot, airless day—the kind where your lungs burned as if you were living inside a furnace. By the time I was halfway across the yard, sweat trickled down my spine.

I gave Sherlock a few minutes before calling him back. When he didn't appear, I kept walking. He was probably chasing a rabbit or chewing on a stick. In all the time I'd known him, he never went too far from where either Eric or I were standing.

After the unbearable heat in the open pasture, it was a relief to step under the shade of the trees. In a lot of ways, Alex's property was similar to the land around my cottage. It had the same sense of timeless energy, the same peaceful, pine-scented landscape that I longed for when I lived in Europe. But, unlike my property, the closest lake to Alex's home was a two-hour hike away.

I stood still, listening to the sounds around me. "Sherlock! Come!" I waited a heartbeat before repeating my command. Somewhere ahead of me, a branch snapped.

"Sherlock! Come!" Still no answer. Glancing over my shoulder, I peered through the forest. Alex's home was hidden behind the trees. If Eric knew I was here, he wouldn't be impressed. And he'd be even less impressed with Sherlock. The big German Shepherd enjoyed exploring, but he knew better than to stay away when he was called.

Walking farther into the trees wasn't what I had in mind when I left the house, but leaving Sherlock out here wasn't going to happen, either. "Sherlock!"

Another rustle of leaves had me heading slightly to the left. Sherlock ran toward me. When he skidded to a stop, his tail was wagging so hard it was a wonder it didn't fly off his body.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

He tilted his head toward the sky and barked.

"Well, wherever you've been, we need to go home."

Instead of following me, Sherlock's ears pricked up.

"Come, boy." I patted the side of my leg. It was so unlike Sherlock not to move that I searched the area around us. Something must have been worrying him.

I knelt on the ground and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Show me." Eric used that command when he wanted to know what Sherlock had buried or seen. I didn't know if it would work, but anything was worth a try.

Sherlock turned around and moved slowly through the trees.

Keeping two steps behind him, I followed, making as little noise as possible. Sherlock stopped when he saw the shelter we found the other day.

With my heart racing, I crept closer. No one was inside, but a small circle of blackened stones and charred wood was about five feet from the entrance. It wasn't there the other day. Reaching out, I touched the wood. It was stone cold. Whoever lit the fire hadn't been here last night.

Eric and Alex would want to know if someone had been close to the house.

Slipping my backpack from my shoulders, I opened a pocket before realizing I left the satellite phone on the dining table. I shook my head, annoyed that I didn't remember it.

After studying the trees, I took out my cell phone and snapped a picture of the campfire. At least I'd have something to show Eric when he returned.

"We'd better go home," I said quietly to Sherlock. "I don't want to be here if whoever built this comes back."

I kept close to the trees, taking whatever protection the forest could give us. If Chapman had lit the fire, his arrest this morning meant he wouldn't be back. At least that was one thing I didn't have to worry about.

But what if Chapman hadn't been here? What if everyone had ruled out another person who was the stalker?

Before we moved to Alex's home, only three people knew we were in Sunrise Bay—my mom, a detective in the NYPD, and Eric's literary agent. Since then, that number had grown. If one person said something they shouldn't, the whole world would know where we were.

Sherlock froze.

I studied his raised tail and alert ears. "What is it, boy?" Crouching low, I peered through the last few feet of the forest. From this angle, the only view I had of the house was half-hidden behind the trees.

With Sherlock beside me, I crept forward, carefully making my way to the edge of the forest.

My hand tightened on Sherlock's back. A white SUV was parked in front of the house. A whole lot of possibilities rushed through my mind—and not one of them was good.

I bit my bottom lip and gave Sherlock a quick hug. "It's time for plan B," I whispered. "Let's go."