Page 54 of You'll Be Sorry

“I have my own inquiries to make,” Mandy reported. “Raquel Collins. An interior decorator with better forensic anthropology skills than most trained professionals. How? Why? I think it’s time to learn a bit more about our new neighbors, don’t you?”

“Always trust your instincts.” Betty smiled kindly. “That’s something else your father would do.”

Mandy bent over and hugged the woman who’d started out as her parents’ friend but had become Mandy’s personal anchor. “Get some rest.”

“Ah, I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

“Which will never happen, because both the town and I need you too much. Good night, Betty.”

“Good night, dear.”

Then Mandy climbed into her car, and after another moment’s contemplation, forced herself to head home, take a long hot shower, then lie in her bed and stare at the ceiling until the new day began.

19

The dog was back. Raquel wasn’t even surprised. She’d showered, dressed, then headed straight downstairs to open the front door. Where, of course, the pale boxy Lab sat expectantly. Raquel gave him a stern look. He yawned expansively.

“Seriously?”

Second yawn.

“Forget canine opportunist. I hereby rename you Little Shit.” She swore the damn thing grinned.

She stepped outside to join the dog on the porch. She could hear Theo in the kitchen, chattering away on the phone with someone or another. She was less interested in the activities inside the house, however, than outside.

First up, the driveway was quieter. Only two vehicles versus yesterday’s fifty-car pileup. From the bedroom window, she’d spotted several people working the well/gravesite. Based on their casual dress, she was guessing the anthropologists. Theo had informed her they worked for mere peanuts, like five hundred dollars a case according to him, the department surviving mostly on donations. She’d assumed this was his way of telling her he’d be writing a large check.

She never questioned his financial decisions. He came from money, continued to make massive amounts of money; ergo, his money, his problem. He did agree, as part of her marriage stipulations, that shewould always retain her own earnings. In return, she was happy to sign away any and all claims to his assets. Being Theo, he’d refused. Being herself, she’d had a lawyer generate a prenup, which she’d signed and delivered herself. Theo had spluttered but known when he was beaten.

She always pictured his parents doing a happy dance in the background. Finally, something they agreed upon.

Now Raquel stepped out onto the front corner where the dog liked to take up position. She searched the surrounding woods, the bare-limbed trees practically shivering from the below-freezing November temps. She waited for signs of yesterday’s visitor, a flash of movement, a telling silhouette. Maybe a rustle of wildlife to give the spy away.

She got…nothing.

The dog, who’d padded to her side and was now resuming his completely contrived, totally innocent stance, yawned for the third time.

“Take it from me,” she reprimanded him. “Never overdo your role. Less is more. Right now, you’re simply convincing me there’s a serial killer about to attack. You’re a smart boy. Work on it.”

The dog had the dignity to appear contrite. She gave him credit for that.

Lacking visual confirmation…Raquel simply stood. She stopped seeing, hearing, smelling. She simply was. Turning her focus inward, toward that deepest, most innate part of herself. Primal instinct. Where she was less human, more animal. But also, so cold, cold, cold. As rip out the throat of an unsuspecting gazelle, kill shot to an enemy’s forehead kind of cold. One of the specialists had commented that she’d make a great military asset or counterintelligence spy, if she so chose.

She sometimes thought of writing him to disclose she’d become an interior decorator instead, but she didn’t want to disappoint him that much—that doc had been one of the better ones.

Now, waiting for the telltale prickle across her skin, that sixth sense of being in the crosshairs.Someone is watching…

But again, nothing. The woods were quiet. No figure appeared, no gaze bored into her soul. The visitor/intruder/stalker was not present. Apparently, the person had sent the dog in her stead.

“Are you an evil minion or simply cheap labor?” she asked.

She got a blank stare.

“Hey. You and I both know you’re the smartest life-form in the room, so no playing stupid now.”

The dog continued playing innocent.

She scowled at him. “Fine, breakfast it is, but don’t think for a minute I don’t know your game.”