Seven

U nnerved by the deafening silence, Anna could no longer sit still. I am so lonely.

Where did loneliness start, and when did it stop?

She'd forgotten to ask Dr. Clarke about returning to work. Mr. Gray wouldn't give her an exception. He'd require her to carry her food trays at the diner. She stood up, went to the kitchen table, and picked up the stack of unpaid bills. Then she dropped into her burgundy armchair and reached for her overstuffed bag on the side table. The contents started falling out as she searched for the elusive phone. Her heart raced. Where was her phone? Calm down, girl .

What was wrong with her today?

Her fingertips touched her phone on the bottom. Something large and heavy blocked it. She pursed her lips, pulled out the thick item, then unearthed her phone. She placed it on the table, frowning at the manila envelope on her lap. She turned it over and over. Only her name handwritten on it.

Well, kinda her name. No one who knew her called her Anastasia. How creepy was that? And put right in her purse?

Around a year ago, she came to Grandville for a break, a quiet life with little drama. After Anna's mother died, Sandy mentioned that Anna could call her if she ever needed anything. A couple of weeks later, when Anna still couldn't focus, she called Sandy to take her up on her offer, well aware that sometimes people said things in a difficult situation, an offer they hoped the other person wouldn't accept.

Sandy's counsel still rang in her ears: "Of course, I'll help you any way I can, but working at the diner won't be a step up. I wish I could've gone to college. I imagined it full of adventure and excitement. This won't be that. Please be sure it's the fresh start you want."

Anna had promised she'd be strong—move on. But she'd needed time to pull herself together. Just a little time, a friendly face, a break. She'd then go back and finish strong.

She thought moving here was an escape.

Now, the call, the attack, and the package…

Her life was going in the wrong direction. She'd been hurt. She shoved the envelope across the side table. No need to open it or decide what to do with it tonight.

But her phone battery was low. She headed to the kitchen for a drink and plugged the phone in.

Then she returned to the chair and stared at the package. Isolating the envelope didn't free her. It left her frozen and unable to move.

What was in it?

She'd toss and turn all night thinking about it.

Why was it so heavy?

Unable to will herself to move or ignore the bewitching package, she counted to thirty. Then she stretched to grab it, catching only the corner.

It slammed on the floor and skidded almost under the couch.

Really? Her ribs complained about the stretch. Yet, she crawled and grabbed for it. She almost had it when a firm knock on the door startled her.

"Anna, honey?"

She turned toward the door and Sandy's voice, then down at her opponent, taunting her now.

The knock was louder, more insistent. Was it really Sandy?

Anna charted a strategic path that wasn't visible through the window and angled to view the front step. Whew. She let out her breath.

Sandy pressed her face flush against the narrow side window, peering in. In her late fifties, with big-rimmed glasses and gray hair pulled up in a bun, she always managed a casual, laid-back style, contrasted by her red lipstick and red glitter nails. As she often said, "Why not shine?"

Right now, she looked frantic.

Anna jerked open the door. "I was trying to make sure it was you before I opened the door."

Sandy burst in, almost hysterical. "Where were you? I've been trying to call. They said you left the hospital, but you didn't answer your phone."

"I'm sorry." Anna stepped aside, letting her friend in. "I got a ride home. I was exhausted and ready to leave. I saw some missed calls, but I'm just… tired. It's been kinda lonely, though."

"I'm glad I was worried for nothing." Sandy flopped into the tan chair by the door. "I hurried in such a rush. Let me sit and, well, allow myself to calm down. I don't know why I was so worried. Maybe it was because of the calls you received. I've been—you know—more aware."

She kicked off her sandals and focused on Anna. "I didn't mean to interrupt your rest."

"Thanks. Sorry I worried you. It's been a lot all at once."

Sandy wiggled her feet back into her sandals and stood. "I'll head out now unless you need something tonight or want me to stay. I can bring some food tomorrow from the diner, so you can take things slow. Mr. Gray suggested it. He also said not to worry about your days off right now. He has you covered."

Whoa. Anna raised her eyebrows. Nothing made sense right now. "Our Mr. Gray? The guy who won't allow the staff a free soda?"

"Yep. That guy. The incident must've scared him. Someone getting into the building and harming an employee. He probably thinks you'll sue."

Anna had to take her own food and water to the diner if she didn't want to pay for it. Her mouth tightened, and her face flushed.

She forced a deep breath. "Thank you again. I appreciate it and all you've done. I probably don't say it enough. You've been such a good friend to me." She rubbed her hands down her thighs. "Let's discuss the food thing tomorrow. I've got a few things to take care of, and I want to make sure I'm here if you come."

"Yes, yes, just rest. Sounds good." Sandy was already halfway through the door. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Anna shut and locked the door. Her gaze shifted to the brown wrapper mocking her from under the couch. The envelope that had magically appeared in her purse.

She reached to grab its corner, then jolted, her arm slamming against the couch when glass shattered like a high-pitched cymbal in her room. A thump from a piece of furniture followed. An intruder was in her house!

A creak came from the hall floorboards, bringing the intruder closer.

She moved toward the umbrella by the door. It wasn't sturdy enough, but she'd fight this time.

She grasped the umbrella, her hand twitching. Everything in her was twitching.

Her phone was on the kitchen counter, steps away. But she'd have to go toward the intruder to retrieve it.

The creaks edged closer and closer.

She eyed the phone, the distance to the front door.

Then bright headlights flooded the living room window. A horn blared.

The creaking stopped. Then the moan of the floorboards started again, closer together and faster, but moving away, getting softer.

The headlights still streamed into the living room window, but the horn fell silent.

"Hey, stop! What are you doing?" a man yelled. Then it was quiet.

Race to the phone! She made a mad dash, her legs pumping, her head and ribs screaming.

"Anna?" The voice was now at the door. "Anna, are you okay?"

Her pulse thudded in her head, and her grip tightened on her phone. Things were blurry again. Should she dial 911 or see who was at the door? Definitely 911. Things are getting beyond weird.

"Anna. Anna!" There was more banging. "Anna, it's Garrett Clarke. Dr. Clarke."

Using the same trail she used with Sandy's visit, she stayed out of view and crept toward the door. Moving slower and feeling weaker, she advanced farther toward the narrow side with the glass pane for a better view.

It was Dr. Clarke. His face wasn't against the glass like Sandy's. But why was he here? Anna waited to catch her breath and pull herself together before she opened the door.

"Anna, are you okay?" He reached out and touched her shoulder.

"I–I don't know." Her knees failed her.

Dr. Clarke steadied her and allowed her to regain her composure, his arm strong and reassuring around her.

She closed her eyes, breathing in his unique scent. She forced open her eyes and tried to clear her head as she lumbered toward the sofa.

Great. She was hanging onto him. She shifted her weight and stood up straighter.

"Are you okay?"

With the way he looked so deep into her eyes, he could probably see clear into her soul, his gaze exposing her raw emotions.

"You're shivering. Sit down," he ordered in doctor mode. "You might be in shock."

"Yes. I–I just need to sit for a minute. There was someone. Someone was here. In my bedroom. When you drove up before you knocked on the door. Your car. The horn. You frightened them away."

"I'm concerned about you right now. After you have a minute to calm down, I'm going to check your vitals."

"I'm okay, really. It was just such a shock on top of the other events that have happened. You understand, right?"

"I understand, but I also want to make sure it's not more than that." He checked her pulse and flashed his penlight into her eyes. He seemed satisfied.

"How did you know to come here?"

"I was still worried about you. As I came down the road, I noticed something wasn't right. I started honking when I saw the broken glass. Then he—or, well, someone—ran through the yard." Dr. Clarke knelt in front of her, taking one hand and rubbing warmth into it, then working the other as he spoke. "I didn't see much, though, other than dark clothing and a hooded jacket. He ran away from my car. He was stocky, didn't move fast, and didn't seem athletic. I had a choice—follow him or check on you. Check on you won."

"I didn't call the police. My phone was in the kitchen. I have it now. I should call."

"Let's give it a minute. You've been under a lot of stress. He's long gone now anyway. Maybe you should call the police in the morning."

Anna scooted back onto the couch, and he sat next to her. His shoulder brushed hers, and a sense of excitement tingled through her, even as she calmed. They sat without speaking. It was quiet, but it wasn't lonely. Dr. Clarke scanned the room, maybe wondering why she didn't have more personal things.

"Let me get you something to drink." He pushed to his feet and strode toward the kitchen, then rummaged in her cabinets and ran the water.

She glanced at the intriguing envelope and moved her foot enough to tap it farther out of sight. Then she relaxed to the sound of Dr. Clarke puttering in her kitchen. How warm and comforting. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

He returned before she dozed off. After placing a water glass on the nearby table, he settled beside her. Very close.

"Thank you." Exhaustion threatened to win. But she was safe. He was a doctor. She drifted off.

When she woke, her ribs ached, and her neck was stiff and tight. Her shoes were nested beside the couch and a pillow under her head. Her throw blanket covered her. No one moved about, so she expanded two blinds and looked out the window. No car.

Something was written on the back of an envelope on the table.

Please don't let it be an envelope with overdue stamped on it.

She walked over to examine the note.

Anna, I stayed here last night to ensure you got some rest. Sorry I couldn't make breakfast, but I did start coffee. I have early rounds. My phone number is on the card on the table. Call me once you're up and around—leave a message if I don't answer. You should also report the break-in. That's two separate incidents now. Take care.

Garrett Clarke

She scooped up his card and dropped it into a pocket in her purse. Then, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, she braved the bedroom and held her breath as she opened the door. Broken glass covered the floor, and the dresser lay on its side. She swerved around the glass and stepped inside. The plastic bag from the hospital had been ripped open by the wall—her uniform, torn and bloodied, spilled out over the floor. A full day of wages—gone. She straightened her shoulders and gritted her teeth. Enough of this! Without further delay, she dialed the police.

Just what was coming next?