Through the narrow gap in the curtains, I watched the exhaust rise like gray steam in the cold night air.

My hand gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so hard my knuckles turned white.

I looked down at my phone.

The screen was dark, but my fingers hovered over the speed dial for Nora.

If I called her now, what could she do?

She was two towns over, and the local deputies were already in Eleanor’s pocket.

If I called the police, the very men who had let Gareth walk would be the ones dispatched to our door.

The car’s headlights suddenly flicked off, plunging the yard into deep shadow.

The engine died.

The sudden silence in the cabin was heavy, broken only by the ticking of the kitchen clock.

A car door opened, the hinges squeaking in the cold air.

Then, the heavy thud of a door slamming shut.

I heard footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway.

They were slow, deliberate, and unhurried.

“Clara,” I whispered, not turning my head. “Go into the back bedroom. Lock the door.”