Take Another Look by Rosalind Noonan Read Free Book Online Page B

gun laws, Jane had never been able to bring herself to buy a weapon. She’d always worried that it might be used against her, stolen, or discovered by Harper and her friends.
    He took her hands in his. “Janie . . . your hands are like Popsicles.” He sandwiched them between his palms and rubbed heat into her. “We’ll get through this. Let me drop Harper off while you pack some stuff. We can bring Phoenix to my place for good measure.”
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    Fortunately, Harper was okay with being chauffeured by Luke. “I need a hug,” Jane told her daughter as she waited by the door, checkered backpack slung over one shoulder.
    Harper wrinkled her nose, then opened her arms. “Why so weird, Mom?”
    â€œAm I not allowed to hug my daughter anymore?” Jane closed her eyes as she breathed in the floral scent of shampoo mixed with a cake batter–scented perfume that Harper and her friends had all fallen in love with.
    â€œWhatever. We’ve got practice at four, but some of us are going to the swim park in the morning.”
    â€œJust text me when you make a move,” Jane said. “And no hanging here in the morning. I’ve got some work to get done at the school.”
    Harper groaned. “When am I going to be old enough to be trusted at home? Everybody else has friends over when their parents are at work.”
    â€œYou’re not everybody else. You’re special, honey.”
    Harper rolled her eyes and ducked out the door. “Bye, Mom.”
    â€œBe right back,” Luke promised.
    Jane turned the deadbolt and peered out through the peephole, but she couldn’t see them walking to Luke’s car. The small tunnel of vision it afforded her was nearly useless. She sank against the door. She hoped she was doing the right thing, entrusting Harper to someone else’s care. For years she’d walked in fear of Frank, making contingency plans and escape routes, but when a decade had gone by without any sign of trouble, she’d let her guard down a bit.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid.
    She hurried up to her room and pulled a duffel bag from the closet. Toothbrush, underwear, change of clothes and nightgown—the nice one, with ribbons woven through the bodice. Her usual T-shirt and boxers could stay at home. She was filling a small cosmetic bag with her medication and essential makeup when the doorbell began to ring.
    Was Luke back already? A spiral of fear twisted in her chest. Luke would not ring the doorbell, and not repeatedly. Luke knew the garage code; it wasn’t him.
    He was here.
    The doorbell chimed incessantly. He was not going away.
    Her heart thudded in her chest as she bounded down the stairs, then stopped herself, falling back onto a carpeted step. She couldn’t answer. But if she didn’t, would he break down the door?
    Call the police. She yanked her cell phone from her pocket as the bell pealed again, and then a knock came.
    Indecision and fear tangled inside her. What if it was someone else . . . a neighbor or a friend of Harper’s?
    With a jagged breath, she crept to the bottom of the stairs and crossed to the door, sure that he could sense her movement on the other side of the door. Mustering her courage, she put her eye to the peephole. The man was turned away, and the damned peephole distorted things, but the thatch of dark hair and the broad shoulders were unmistakable.
    It was him.
    Frank.
    Of course, he had stayed in shape, kept his muscles conditioned and strong enough to hold a woman down against her will or crush her windpipe.
    The instinct to flee roared in her mind as she backed away from the door, which suddenly boomed. He was pounding on the door, rattling it in its hinges.
    She wanted to beg him to go away, but she was afraid to reveal herself, and she knew her words would be powerless against him. Instead, she stumbled over to the bannister, hunkered down behind it, and tried to focus on the cell phone in her