Don't Look Back by Josh Lanyon Read Free Book Online

Peter whirled, ready for ... he didn't know what. It had sounded like the scrape of a shoe on brick. But there was no one behind him.
    The shadow swaying on the grass was from the tree limbs moving in the breeze. Right?
    He stood there for a moment, watching. Nothing moved.
    And if something did move, what would he do? He glanced around for something he could use to defend himself ... a fallen branch, a loose brick, a rock. One thing about Constantine House, the grounds were well maintained. No weapons available unless he was going to yank a solar lantern out of the ground and try to defend himself with it.
    After a long, fraught moment, Peter began to feel foolish. The mockingbird seemed to confirm this opinion, chattering at him from high in the branches above.
    He turned and went quickly up the steps.
    When he reached the bungalow, he reheated the casserole left by Jessica and Roma. It was good, but he wasn't hungry. He ate a few bites, dumped the rest into the trash, and settled for a glass of milk and a couple of pain pills. His head was aching again, mostly due to rushing back to the bungalow before the bogeyman could snatch him.
    Well and truly disgusted with himself, Peter retrieved his book from the study and went up to read in bed.
    * * * *
    His dreams were strange and troubled, and despite the tablets he'd taken before bed, he began to fight his way out of sleep—which was how Peter became aware of the faint but persistent gnawing sound from beneath his open window.
    In his dream, the gnawing turned into rats chewing at the wooden siding of the house ... and as rats were absolutely unacceptable, Peter woke and opened his eyes.
    For a moment he lay there, eyes picking out the outline of furniture silvered by moonlight.
    There it was again.
    A muted scratching sound.
    What the hell was that?
    He rose, crossing softly to the window, and looked down. A bulky figure dressed in black stood on the crescent-shaped patio busily working at getting inside the back door.
    For the space of a heartbeat Peter was rooted in place, disbelieving. Disbelief gave way to alarm. He crossed to the bed, fumbled the phone. He needed light to dial, and fuzzy with concussion and pain pills, he automatically switched on the bedside lamp.
    From down below came the clang of metal on stone, and then a sound that was probably one of the large geranium pots getting knocked over—pottery hitting hard brick. Peter got back to the window in time to see the bulky figure—ski mask concealing hair and face—racing across the grass to the outstretched shadow of the trees in the back of the house.
    Peter angled around trying for a better view, but he saw no one else on the terrace. He got back over to the phone and dialed 911.
    The emergency operator assured him a patrol car was in the vicinity and would reach him shortly.
    Peter thanked her, hung up, and began to dress swiftly. He would need to call down to the gatehouse and let the night watchman, Donnelly, know that they'd had an another intruder and that the police were on the way.
    As he dressed, he began to wonder. Granted, Constantine House wasn't Fort Knox, but it seemed to him that their security was being breached with alarming monotony. And why his bungalow?
    Dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed and phoned Donnelly, but no one answered the gatehouse line. The old man was probably sleeping in front of his television.
    Peter sighed, hung up, and went downstairs.
    For the first time, he began to consider the thefts from the museum itself. He had assumed the items—all small enough to slip into a pocket or purse—had been taken during business hours. There was a security system, but it was outdated and it only encompassed the outside perimeter doors. But the fact that intruders were getting onto the museum grounds after hours opened another unpleasant possibility.
    What if the thefts were happening after hours? What if someone was bypassing the security at the main house and getting into the