So far, so good, Jenna thought, as she slowly let out her breath and walked noiselessly to her younger daughter’s bedroom. Carefully, Jenna opened the door and Critter, at the foot of the bed, lifted his furry head. His tail thumped while Allie, disturbed, smacked her lips as she rolled over before burrowing deeper under the covers.
Everyone was safe.
No evil presence was skulking through the halls.
“Jenna?”
She nearly lost control of her bladder.
Gasping, she whirled to find Jake Turnquist, only his head and shoulders visible as he stood on the stairs. “Everything okay?”
Of course not. Does it look like everything’s okay? “Yes…no…I think.” She pushed her hair from her eyes and tried to calm her galloping heart as she walked quickly toward him. Whispering, she said, “I had a bad dream. About Lynnetta. And when I woke up, instead of being relieved, I had the feeling that someone had been in my room, had been standing at the edge of the bed and was staring at me.”
“Maybe you heard me come in.”
“To my room?” She was suddenly wary.
“No. I was downstairs. My flashlight batteries went dead tonight and I didn’t have any replacements. I knew you kept extras in the pantry, so I came in to get some. Maybe you heard the back door open.”
“Maybe,” she said, then shook her head as they walked down the stairs together. “But I don’t think so. I think…Oh, God, am I going insane?” she said, and realized that she couldn’t remember her last, uninterrupted good night’s sleep. Her nerves were frayed and she was close to the breaking point. “That’s it, I’m going crazy.”
“I don’t think so. They say that if you think you’re crazy, then you aren’t. Come on downstairs,” he said tiredly. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll do another perimeter check.”
“Thanks,” she said, and though she sensed his reluctance, he took off for his rounds.
In the den, Jenna turned on the television, yet stared out the windows to the dark, howling night beyond. There was no moonlight. No stars visible. Just the certain, steady fall of snow.
She caught her own pale reflection in the window and watched Jake for as long as he was visible, then waited nearly an hour for him to return. She stoked the fire, heated hot chocolate, scanned yesterday’s newspaper, and half-listened to a late, late talk show, all the while watching the seconds tick off the clock.
Finally the back door opened and Turnquist walked into the house. Brushing snow from his jacket and pants, his face ruddy with the chill from the wind and snow, he looked as tired as she felt.
“Nothing?” Jenna offered him a cup of hot chocolate.
He pulled off his gloves and took the cup gratefully. “Not a damned thing.”
He’d seen no one outside.
Found no evidence of anyone having been on the ranch.
Was certain nothing had been disturbed.
“I guess I’m just paranoid,” she said, feeling like a fool. She’d sent the man out in the bitter cold because of a “feeling” that someone had stood over her bed and watched her as she’d slept so fitfully. And Jake was more than a little ticked, though he tried to hide it. Snow was melting on his stocking cap, and his hands, despite the fact that he’d worn insulated gloves during his rounds, appeared chapped and half-frozen.
“Look, I don’t think you’re crazy, you know that. Bu
t your nerves are shot.” He didn’t say the words kindly as he warmed his hands by the fire, stretching his fingers as if to assure himself that they still worked. “Maybe you should take something to help you sleep.”
“Sleeping pills?”
He looked over his shoulder at her, appraising her with cool blue eyes. “Or Valium, or Prozac, just enough to take the edge off.”
“I think I need ‘the edge’ on.”
He didn’t reply, just picked up his cup and finished the hot chocolate. Outside, the wind tore down the gorge, keening and whistling around the eaves.
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”