What If You & Me Page 6

Maybe not so much wine next time.

  She swung her legs to the floor, checking to see if she was head-spinning drunk or only a little buzzed. The room didn’t tilt, so that was a good sign. She rubbed her face, preparing to get up, but a thump from the back of the house made her pause. She lowered her hands from her face and turned her head toward the kitchen, listening. Was Hill still up and moving around? It was past midnight.

  He seemed to be a night owl so probably so. But when she heard a creak, one that sounded distinctly like her back screen door, goose bumps prickled her arms. That sound hadn’t come from Hill’s side. He didn’t have a screen door. Her body went stiff and cold, her ears straining.

  She half expected her phone to ring with a voice on the other end asking her if she liked scary movies. The creak came again, and she inhaled a shaky breath. Okay. The latch on the screen door had probably come undone. It was windy outside. The door was probably flapping in the wind. You’re fine. The main door is locked tight.

  She reached for her phone, which she usually kept on the coffee table, but it wasn’t there. Her heartbeat picked up speed. Where had she put it? She’d had it when she’d sat down to edit the episode. She’d gotten up to use the bathroom once and had gotten a refill on wine twice. She must’ve brought her phone into the kitchen.

  Dammit.

  How had she lost track of her phone? But she wasn’t going to follow up that mistake with a second one. She definitely wasn’t calling out “Who’s there?” or going outside to investigate a weird sound. She hadn’t watched hundreds of horror movies without learning something. Still, she needed to know what the noise was, but she wasn’t going to look without some protection.

  She swallowed past the dryness in her throat, and as quietly as she could, she rose to her feet, her knee making a soft popping sound. She swayed a little, the wine still coursing through her system, but the fear had sobered her thoughts. She glanced toward the kitchen again and then quickly but quietly hurried toward the front door in her bare feet. She’d left her purse on the table by the door when she’d come home, and she grabbed it like a lifeline. She rummaged around, and when her fingers closed around the gel pepper spray she’d bought at Hill’s suggestion, a jolt of relief went through her.

  She pulled out the canister and peeked through the peephole of the front door. Her porch was well lit and empty, but the darkness on the street beyond revealed nothing. She didn’t want to walk outside at midnight, not knowing if someone was prowling around her place.

  She turned away from the front door and listened. She didn’t hear the creak anymore, but she was filled with the sense that the silence was not empty. It had weight. Like the air had changed. She slid the safety latch on the pepper spray, putting her finger on the trigger, and took a few steps toward the kitchen.

  This wasn’t the first time she’d been home alone and thought she heard a noise in the house. This was just the first time at this place. She’d learned to live with her hyperaware senses and overactive imagination. But this was the first time she didn’t have her phone to call someone to stay on the line while she checked things out. Every other time, whatever sound she’d heard had been nothing. It would surely be the same now, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. She held the pepper spray at-the-ready.

  She placed her footsteps carefully, watching for a floorboard that she’d learned squeaked loudly. If she could get a peek at the kitchen and verify the main door was still safely closed and locked, she could end this. She got close to the entrance of the kitchen and took a deep breath. Steeling herself, she shifted to peek around the corner into the kitchen.

  She almost didn’t register what she saw, the image so preposterous for a woman who regularly checked that everything was locked up tight.

  The back door was wide open.

  Panic flooded her, electric fear zapping through her muscles like lightning, and a scream ripped out of her. She took off running in the other direction, shouting “Help!” the whole way. Her bare feet slapped against the floor, and she couldn’t get a sense of whether anyone was behind her or not as she bolted toward the front door. Her fingers fumbled the dead bolt, and she started to cry, but finally the lock turned, and she flew out the front door like the house was on fire.

  She had no idea if anyone was outside, and she didn’t have her car keys, so she did the only thing she could think of. She rushed to Hill’s door and banged on it with the sides of her fists, shouting for him to open it. Her throat hurt, her body was trembling all over, and her heart was going to pound out of her chest. Please God, please. Come on, come on, come on. “Hill!”

  When she was about to give up and run to another neighbor, the door swung open. Hill took in the sight of her, confusion on his face, and she launched herself at him. He made an oof sound as she barreled into him and she slammed the door behind her. “Lock it!”

  He put an arm around her, steadying them both. “The hell. What’s wrong?”

  “Someone’s in my house,” she panted, tears she hadn’t known she’d been crying now streaming down her face. “Call the police.”

  His body stiffened against her. “Shit.”

  He let her go and shifted into action. Before she could process what was happening, he’d locked the door behind her, grabbed his cell, and called 911 to put in a report. He handed her the phone. “Stay on the line with them.”

  “What?” she asked, voice shaking. “Where are you going?”

  The 911 operator was chattering in her ear for Andi to stay on the line, but she couldn’t respond.

  Hill left her for a moment, disappeared into a hallway, and then came out with his trusty baseball bat. “I’m going to check things out.”

  He moved to walk past her, but she reached out and snagged his T-shirt. “No!”

  He frowned. “Andi…”

  She couldn’t let him out of her sight. Every survival instinct she possessed screamed at her to keep him right there with her. “What if they come over here while you’re there? What if they have a gun? What if there’s more than one person?” The questions rushed out of her without pause. “Please don’t leave. Please, Hill. Stay until the police come. I can’t—”

  His determined expression softened at her frantic words. He set the bat down, then reached out, took the phone from her, and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze. “Shh. Okay. Take a breath. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe here. I won’t leave you if you don’t want me to.” He put the phone to his ear to talk to the operator. “We’ll be here waiting for the police. I have the neighbor here on my side of the duplex, safe. Please advise them that the problem is in Unit A. We are hunkered down in Unit B. I’ll leave you on speakerphone, but I need to talk to her and help her calm down.”

  Hill set the phone on the arm of the couch. Andi was shaking all over, but the steady warmth of his arm around her helped a little. “I can’t catch my breath.”

  “You’re having a panic attack,” he said, voice calm and soothing. “Here, come sit on the couch with me while we wait. My guess is whoever was in your place is long gone after all that screaming.”

  He kept his arm around her as they sat down, and she kept the pepper spray clutched tight in her hand, half expecting her intruder to bust through this door, too. “You heard me? Why didn’t you come?”

  He squeezed her arm. “Andi, I’m so sorry. I heard the screaming, but I thought it was one of your movies again.”

  “Jesus,” she said, every part of her trembling now.

  A distant police siren wailed, and Hill rubbed his palm up and down her chilled arm. “Try to take a few deep breaths. You’re okay now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I’m okay?” she repeated almost to herself, unsure.

  “You’re okay,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

  The sound of his reassuring voice undid her, the reality of what sh
e’d seen sinking in for real. Someone had been in her house. With her, while she sat there under headphones, oblivious. So many bad things could’ve happened. She leaned into Hill, pressing her face into his shoulder, letting the tears overtake her. The terror she’d felt when she’d seen that door wide open had been a sensation she’d experienced in her worst nightmares.

  Hill made quiet, soothing sounds, letting her make a mess of his white T-shirt, and murmured gentle words to her, obviously used to being the calming presence in chaotic situations. “You’re all right.”

  The man was a stranger. One she couldn’t get a good read on, but in that moment, he felt like safety and comfort, like exactly the thing she needed right now. She let her pepper spray drop and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Chapter Six

  Hill tensed when Andi looped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder, her choking sobs putting little cracks in the armor he usually maintained when victims were upset. It did no one any good in a bad situation if the person there to help got emotionally swept up as well. But Andi’s entire body was trembling against him, and he wanted to scoop her up, hold her, and assure her that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, that she was safe with him.

  But he had a feeling that when her panic eased, she was going to quickly remember who she was clinging to. He wasn’t going to make this even weirder for her by giving in to that urge to hold her. He put a hand on her back and tried to calm her as best he could.

  He could hear the sirens blaring out front, and he informed the 911 operator that the cops were here and ended the call. The siren turned off, blue and red lights flashing through the front window. Hill listened as the officers walked up the porch steps, the wood creaking, and then as they called out to anyone who was inside Andi’s half. He could hear them as they inspected the other side of the duplex, knowing they wouldn’t find anyone. If someone had broken in, they were long gone by now unless they were the dumbest criminal who ever lived. When the knock on his door finally came, Andi startled and lifted her head, her cheeks tear-streaked and eyes puffy.

  He brushed her hair away from her face. “It’s okay. It’s the police. I’m going to get that.”

  Her gaze darted toward the front door. “How do you know it’s them?”

  “I heard them search the other side. Plus, I’ll probably recognize them. I know most of the cops in this precinct. Stay right here, okay?”

  She didn’t look ready to let him go, but finally, she released him. She shifted to the corner of the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her. Only then did he notice that all she was wearing was an oversize T-shirt and boy-short panties. He glanced at the door and then back to her. “Down the hall, in my bedroom, there’s a basket of clean laundry next to the bed. You can borrow some shorts if you want.”

  She glanced down as if just noticing her state of undress for herself, and she hurriedly put her feet to the floor, clearly self-conscious. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

  He gave her a second to head toward the bedroom, and then he went to the door. He checked the peephole, recognizing the face on the other side.

  Of course. Fucking hell.

  He took a fortifying breath and pulled open the door, schooling his face into one of mild impassivity. Officer Christina Morton was standing there, not a blond hair out of place in her tight braid, and her partner, Ben Brody, was by her side. Christina scanned Hill quickly with the cool detachment of an officer checking for injuries. If anyone had been watching, they never would’ve suspected he and Christina had been engaged once upon a time. That he used to unfurl that braid with rough fingers when they’d fall into bed. That she used to see him as irresistible.

  “You all right, Dawson?” she asked, tone like a surgical knife—pointed, precise.

  He wanted to reply, In the grand scheme of things? No, not even a little bit. But no way would he ever let Christina know he was living anything but his best life.

  “Yeah. Everyone’s fine. Neighbor ran over here, said her back door was open and she knows she locked it. She thought someone was inside,” he said, matching Christina’s businesslike tone. “I would’ve gone over and checked it out, but she was pretty upset and didn’t feel safe being left alone.”

  “Understandable,” Brody said in that genial way Brody said everything. If he were cast in a police drama, he’d always land the role of Good Cop.

  Hill cocked his head toward Andi’s side of the house. “Did y’all find anything over there?”

  “No, the place is clear. Didn’t see any damage or anything,” Ben reported. “Can we come in?”

  Hill took a step back and opened the door wide to let them inside. Christina’s gaze scanned the room, no doubt critiquing Hill’s sparse decorating style, which mostly involved buying nothing extra because it would only be extra shit to clean. When they’d lived together, she’d always been in charge of how their place looked, and she’d never met a farm-inspired tchotchke she didn’t like. He’d lived in a place full of cows and chickens staring at him from every available surface. It’d nearly made him a vegetarian. Her gaze moved back to him. “Where’s the neighbor?”

  “I—”

  But before Hill could get the words out, Brody’s head turned as he caught sight of Andi coming out of Hill’s bedroom. He gave her a warm smile. “Hello, ma’am, you okay?”

  Hill turned. Andi’s eyes were still swollen, but she’d dried her face, and she was now wearing a pair of his athletic shorts cinched up tight. Andi hugged her elbows and nodded. “I’m freaked out but all right.”

  “Why don’t you sit down and tell us what happened?” Christina said in her calming cop voice.

  They all settled into the living room, Andi taking the spot next to Hill on the couch, and Christina and Ben taking the chairs opposite. Andi tucked her hands between her knees, and he suspected she was trying to hide the fact that she was still trembling. Without thinking, he reached out and gave her knee a squeeze. “It’s okay.”

  Christina cleared her throat, and he quickly moved his hand away.

  Andi licked her lips. “Um, I was in my living room working—editing a podcast. I’d been doing that for at least an hour. I had headphones on, and when I took them off, I thought I heard something.”

  “What did you hear?” Brody asked, his notebook out.

  Andi frowned, a little wrinkle appearing between her brows as she looked down, obviously replaying the incident in her head. “A thump at first. Not super loud but enough to get my attention. Then creaking. I thought my screen door had come unlatched and was blowing in the wind. My phone was in the kitchen, so I grabbed my pepper spray and went to the back of the house. I figured I was overreacting, but when I peeked in, I saw that my back door was wide open. I ran out the front of the house and banged on Hill’s door since I didn’t have my phone, and I know he stays up late.”

  Christina glanced Hill’s way, then back to Andi. “Did you see anyone in your kitchen?”

  Andi shook her head and then met Christina’s gaze. “No, but I could feel someone there, if that makes sense.”

  Christina’s brows rose. “Feel someone there?”

  Andi rubbed her palms on her knees. “I don’t know. I know that seems weird, but that feeling of someone else being there. A presence. Maybe I smelled an unfamiliar scent or felt the air shift. Something my subconscious picked up. It was a…sense of not being alone.”

  “A presence?” Christina asked, her mouth lifting at one corner. “Maybe this old place is haunted.”

  Andi pressed her lips together, obviously not appreciating Chris’s little joke. “I doubt a ghost can unlock a door.”

  Hill noticed that Andi the horror writer didn’t outright deny the possibility of ghosts being real, but he was happy to see that little spark of feistiness back. An irritated Andi was better than a terrified one.

 
“Okay,” Christina said, letting her smirk drop. “Are you sure the back door was locked?”

  “Absolutely,” Andi said without hesitation. “I never leave any doors or windows unlocked. I’m really careful about that.”

  “Never?” Christina asked, skepticism in her voice. “It’s easy to forget sometimes.”

  “She’s a horror writer and researches true crime,” Hill said, cutting Chris off. “She knows to lock her doors.”

  Christina’s attention slid to him, giving him a discerning look. “So you two know each other well?”

  He held the eye contact, playing poker. “Well enough.”

  “Hill’s right,” Andi said, not catching the tension in the exchange. “Some people may forget to lock their doors. I don’t. My friends would tell you that I don’t err on the side of caution. I err on the side of paranoid. That door was locked. It’s my habit to check them at night, especially when I know I’m going to be under headphones.”

  “Right. Well. There was no sign of forced entry,” Christina said. “Lock was intact. No splintered wood or marks on the frame. Maybe someone used a key.”

  “Do you have a friend or boyfriend who has an extra key?” Brody asked, hooking his ankle over his knee and leaning back. “Or anyone who’d have access to one of your extras that they could’ve swiped?”

  Andi rubbed her forehead beneath the curtain of her bangs, looking exhausted. “No. I haven’t lived there long. I have the only key.”

  “What about the landlord?” Brody asked.

  Hill shifted on the couch. “I’m the landlord. I didn’t unlock her door.”

  Andi’s head snapped his way, a flash of shock there.

  “Someone could have jimmied the lock without showing signs of force,” Hill said. “These locks are pretty old. I was already planning on getting them replaced.”

  “Possible.” Brody jotted down something in his notebook. “Or maybe the door didn’t latch all the way and the wind knocked it open. We’d like to have Miss…”