sense.
Inside the house, something moved. Wood scraped against wood, then footsteps approached. 'Yes?'
The voice was high-pitched, quavery. The voice of an old woman.
He frowned. 'Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but I'm looking for Rachel Grant.'
'At this hour? Go bother someone else, or I'll call the police.'
'Told you,' Kirby muttered.
Doyle ignored her. He splayed one hand across the door, but quickly jerked it away. 'It's urgent we speak to Rachel. Is she there?'
'There's no one here by that name. Be gone with you.'
Lights appeared in the neighboring terrace. If he wasn't careful, he'd have the whole street down on them. But if he was at all worried by such a prospect, he certainly didn't show it.
'Do you know where we can contact her?' he continued, his voice a little louder.
'Told you, there's no one here by that name. I got the phone in my hand, you know. I'm dialing.'
'Thanks for your help, ma'am.' He cupped Kirby's elbow and guided her down the steps. On the way past the letterbox, he snatched an envelope that was half sticking out of the box.
'That's theft in this country.'
'It's theft in mine, too, but right now, I don't really care.' He handed her the envelope. 'Take a look.'
She did. It was addressed to Rachel Grant. 'Could be a mistake. Maybe she's just moved and hasn't had her mail redirected.
'You really think that?'
'No. But it's better than the thought of breaking into that house and seeing who's really in there. That's what you're thinking of doing, isn't it?'
He raised an eyebrow. 'I see I'm not the only one reading minds here.'
She rubbed her arms and looked away from the warmth in his gaze. 'It doesn't take a mind reader to guess that's what you're thinking.'
'But I bet you can guess what else I'm thinking.'
She grimaced. 'Yeah. And you no doubt can guess my answer.'
'Kirby, get serious. I need to get into that house quickly and quietly. I can't do that if you're with me.'
'Meaning I'm a lumbering noisemaker?'
'Lumbering, no. Far from it.' He hesitated, his gaze sweeping her briefly. Her nerves jumped, as if touched by fire. 'Noisy? Well, yes.'
He opened the passenger side door and motioned her to get in. She crossed her arms and stood her ground.
'That old lady is probably watching to see if we leave,' he said. 'I have no doubt she will call the cops if we don't.'
'Oh.' Feeling foolish, she got in. He climbed into the driver's side and reversed out, heading down the street. He turned right onto another street, then switched off the headlights and turned around, heading back. He parked several houses up from the terrace, this time on the same side of the road.
He took off his seat belt, then turned to face her. 'I want you to climb into the driver's seat and keep the engine running. If anything—or anyone—remotely threatening approaches, drive off.'
She frowned. 'What about you?'
'I'll be okay. I'll meet you at the zoo. It's not that far away, is it?'
She shook her head, wondering how he knew if he'd never been there. He might have good hearing, but surely even he couldn't hear the zoo animals from here.
'I can't just leave you here,' she said. 'What if you get into trouble and need help?'
'At the slightest hint of trouble, I'll leave. It's more important right now that you keep safe. Climb out and come around to the driver's side.'
She did. He'd climbed out and was holding the door open for her. She stopped, suddenly reluctant to get any closer, though what she feared she couldn't exactly say.
For a second, neither of them moved. She stared at him, caught by the sudden intensity in his eyes—an intensity that seemed to delve right through her, touching her soul. Touching her heart. He reached out, trailing the back of his fingers down her cheek. Heat shivered through her, and her breath caught somewhere in her throat. She licked her lips, saw the heat flare deep in his eyes. God, it would be so easy to step fully into his embrace, to let him wrap the lean strength of his arms around her and keep all the demons and fear away. She clenched her fists, fighting the desire—the need —to do just that. It was nothing but crazy thinking. He was a stranger, and she shouldn't even be trusting him, let alone wanting him to hold her. Aching for him to kiss her. Swallowing nervously, she tore her gaze from his.
He placed a finger under her chin, raising it until her gaze met his again. 'Please don't run.'
His voice was little more than a warm caress in her thoughts, and it scared her.
But what scared her more was the longing she saw deep in the depths of his richly colored eyes—a longing that echoed through every inch of her. This man knew loneliness as intimately as she did, only he hid it a whole lot better.
'I can't promise you that,' she whispered. Because this time he wasn't talking about running from life or even running away. Far from it. And in many respects, he was just as dangerous as whatever was out there in the darkness, watching her, stalking her.
Regret flickered in his eyes, and he dropped his hand, though her skin continued to tingle with the warmth of his touch.
'Get in the car and lock the doors. And remember what I said.'
'At the first sniff of danger, drive off and meet you at the zoo,' she said, climbing into the car.
He slammed the door shut, then tapped the window. She smiled slightly and pushed down the lock. He gave her the thumbs up then walked away, quickly disappearing into the drizzle.
She leaned back and watched the misty rain eddy around her. Minutes dragged by. The silence suddenly seemed so heavy it was a weight pressing down on her, making it difficult to breathe. She shifted slightly in the seat. In the park opposite, the mist's dance quickened, as if someone—or something—had stirred it. The trees seemed to loom in and out of focus, and the feeling of being watched returned tenfold.
Lightning danced across her clenched fingers, sending jagged flashes of brightness through the night. She scanned the park, looking for some sense—some hint—of what the mist was hiding.
There was no suggestion of evil or danger. Nothing more than a sense of expectation—and warmth. She frowned. It was almost as if the mist wanted her to go over there.
She glanced toward the terraces. Doyle had told her to stay in the car, and it made perfectly good sense to do so. She could very easily walk into a trap, despite the fact she could feel nothing dark or dangerous about the presence that waited.
Yet she wasn't going to get any answers sitting around waiting for Doyle to do all the work. She grabbed the keys and climbed out of the car.
Damp fingers of mist crept across the back of her neck, and she shivered. She flipped up her jacket's collar then shoved her hands into the pockets and walked across the street. She stopped at the edge of the park, listening to the silence, studying the looming gum trees. Waiting, but for what she wasn't entirely sure.
A warning tingled across her skin. Something approached. She clenched her fists, and felt the lightning dance warmth across her skin.
Ten feet in front of her, the mist stirred, gently at first but gradually becoming more frantic. The wind had died and nothing moved in the predawn darkness, yet the mist continued to condense. Gradually, the tiny droplets of water found shape, found form. Found life.
Became Helen.
Chapter Seven
