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The rattling started again, and she tapped the touch-lamp. Her gaze flew to the door. The handle shifted up and down, up and down, up and down, but thankfully the door didn’t budge.
“Leave me alone.” Terror tore through her, her voice coming out all cracked and powerless.
A greater force slammed against the solid wood and pumped the handle.
Sage gasped, a surge of fear-induced perspiration making her skin clammy and cloying. “Get out of here, or I’ll call the police.”
The shoving stopped, and a door slammed shut in the distance. The front door? How had the person gotten in? And had they really left or was it a trick to draw her out?
Oh God.
Air sawed in and out of her lungs, and her vision turned blotchy.
Breathe.
If she didn’t pull herself together, she’d faint.
She closed her eyes and focused on slowly counting back from fifty, picturing each number in her head. By the time she reached one, her pulse had almost returned to normal.
She’d held off installing a security system, thinking it was overkill. But now things had changed dramatically. Sage refused to become a prisoner in her own home, her bedroom.
So she did the one thing she could do, the only thing that would possibly give her some peace, some ability to get a half-decent rest. She called Chase.
His phone rang once, twice. “Sis?” Chase’s voice slurred with lingering sleepiness.
Thank God. She blew out a huge breath. “I need you to come over.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Please.” She didn’t even try to keep the desperation out of her tone.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” He suddenly sounded wide awake.
“Someone broke in, I think. I’ll explain when you get here.”
“You think?”
“I didn’t see them, I… Please, just get over here.”
“Okay. Try to stay calm and lock yourself in a room.”
“I’m in my bedroom. It’s bolted.”
“Good. I’m on my way.”
Relief, like an antacid, settled some of the churning worry in her stomach. He lived close-by so should arrive shortly—and he had a key. He could let himself in, if required.
The minutes seemed to drag, like wading through quicksand—slow, swamping, sinking.
The longer she waited, the more her mind mulled over every little detail. Had the break-in been related to the carefully constructed threats or was it a coincidence? She didn’t want to presume the two were linked, because, if they were, her tormentor had gone to a whole new, fucking-scary level.
Although frightened, she refused to leave her home, even temporarily. It would essentially be admitting defeat. The fear may have multiplied in every cell of her body like a contagious virus, but she wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t let this offender win—assuming it was the same person.
Three distinct raps in the distance made her jump and her heart raced to red-line level.
“Sis, it’s me, Chase. Can I come in?”
“Yes. Be careful.”
