Reckoning (7 page)

I cast one last glance at the window and my stomach leaps into my throat.

A shadow moves across the far wall. The light abruptly goes out, but I am frozen in place, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. My mind scrambles for a logical answer, blaming it on a trick of the flickering light. Or my imagination working overtime. I’m caught between wanting to look again and fleeing back to the safety of my room. What if it isn’t something logical? What if there
is
someone in there?

And what if they have seen me?

Go! Just go!
My brain urges me to action, but my limbs have suddenly refused to work.

I hear a noise behind me. A fat raindrop lands on my arm and I gasp, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. Squeezing my eyes shut, I clench my jaw. The gate is only a few steps away. I’ll make a run for it. I tense, ready to spring.

Something brushes against my leg and I stifle a scream.

“Alecto!” I nearly sob in relief. “What are you doing out here?”

She mews softly in response. Scooping her into my arms, I dash back through the gate, pushing it securely closed. “How did you get out?”

I hurry back to the patio, finding the answer as I approach the back door. In my efforts at sleuthing, I have left it open just enough for her to slip through. Mentally kicking myself for being so careless, I go back inside, double-checking the deadbolt before I head to my room. Placing Alecto on the bed, I peer out the window. The house next door is dark. No glowing. No flickering. Either the light bulb has given up its feeble attempts at illumination or the wiring has stopped shorting out.

Or someone has taken care of it.

No
, I tell myself.
Stop overreacting.
There is no one in there. Whatever shadows I thought I saw was just my eyes continually readjusting to the light.

My stereo is still playing. Some annoying bass-heavy dance rhythm that makes me feel even edgier. I turn it off, my ears straining for any sound from beyond the window. My computer glows like a headlight, and I turn that off, too. Pulling down the blind, I hurriedly change into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a gray tank top. Diving beneath the covers, I reach for Alecto. She curls herself into a ball against my neck. My pulse beats erratically, but I take slow, deep breaths.

I hear the wind rushing through the trees. There is a blinding flash of lightning, followed by an enormous crack of thunder that shakes the windows. Rain splatters against the glass. Lightning streaks across the sky, pulsing with electric intensity. Seconds later, the rain begins, pelting down in wind-driven torrents.

I burrow further beneath the covers, stroking Alecto’s soft fur. Apparently the storm has roused my parents as I can hear them heading to bed. The floorboards creak, water turns on and off, doors gently close. I lay quietly, trying and failing, to draw a sense of comfort from the familiar sound of their movements.

The storm continues unabated, before finally heading slowly east. The rain eventually subsides to a gentle patter against the roof. But even in the peace of the ensuing silence, sleep eludes me. Long after midnight I’m still staring into the darkness, thinking about the basement window.

_________

After a few hours of restless sleep, I get up early on Saturday. Although my bed is warm and comfortable, the promise of a beautiful morning and invigorating run in the park is too much to resist. And I desperately need the physical exertion to help clear my head. Images of the strange events of the past week buzz through my head like a swarm of angry bees.

After two circuits around the park, I return home, glad that I’d gone out early. The exercise helped and I definitely feel better. I take a deep breath, lifting my face to the cloudless, blue sky. I love the atmosphere after a good, soaking rain. Last night’s storm has left everything damp and cleansed, a pungent, earthy aroma still hovering in the air. Puddles of water dot the street, and the leaves of the trees and shrubs glisten in the sunlight.

Picking up the newspaper, I toss it onto the porch swing, adding my iPod and earphones. As my breathing slows to a more even rhythm, I lean over to stretch my calves and hamstrings.

“Hi. You must be Kat.”

I whirl around in surprise, squinting into the sun. A tall, dark-haired man stands on the sidewalk, backlit by a halo of golden light.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. I think he is smiling, but I can’t be sure in the blinding glare.

“That’s OK. You didn’t,” I lie, lifting a hand to shade my eyes.

“I just moved in next door.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m your new neighbor.”

My new neighbor? Just moved in? When? The middle of the night? The questions run through my head, one after another.

“Oh,” I say. I know it’s a lame response, but I don’t care. My instincts are on full alert. I’d finally convinced myself that the house had been empty last night, even peeking in the window again this morning to reassure myself I was right. With my courage bolstered by the cold light of day, I’d started to feel foolish about the whole thing.

But now I start having second thoughts, and a shudder runs through me. What if he’d seen me? I remember the shadow and my eyes flick involuntarily to the basement window.

“I got in really late,” he says, as if sensing my unspoken question. Or maybe my suspicions are evident on my face. “Or really early. Depending on how you look at it.” He grins again.

I nod, unsure what to say. Then suddenly something he said earlier sinks in. If he’d just moved in last night, or the early hours of this morning, how did he know my name?

“Sorry,” he says, apologizing again. “I guess I should explain.”

I move to the right, trying to get the sun out of my eyes, but it doesn’t help.

“I met your mom a little while ago, and she mentioned you. So when I saw you, I figured you must be Kat.” He pauses. “I like the name. Kat. It’s nice.”

“Thanks. It’s short for Katriona, actually. With a ‘K’.” Why did I say that? Like it matters.

“Cool. It’s not a name you hear very often.”

I shrug, trying to think of a way to politely excuse myself. Something about the guy makes me uneasy.

“Sorry,” he says again. Does he always apologize this much? “I should introduce myself.” He steps forward, moving up the walkway, stopping in front of me. Now that he is out of the glare of the sun, I can finally see him clearly.

My jaw nearly drops in surprise. He is gorgeous. Probably six-two or three, with wide, muscular shoulders, narrow hips and a flat stomach that I have no doubt ripples with muscle. He is dressed in black jeans and shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the buttons open enough to reveal a white tank top underneath. His hair is dark and straight, falling in soft layers just past his collar, flipping up slightly on the ends. Stray pieces fall across his forehead. His face is a perfect oval with high cheekbones and a thin, straight nose. Slim, supple lips smile tentatively at me. I look up into a pair of piercing deep blue eyes.

“I’m Lovell Ambrose,” he says. His voice is smooth as silk.

“Lo
vell
,” I repeat stupidly, placing the emphasis on the second syllable, just as he had.

“Yeah, I know,” he grins sheepishly. “It’s a crazy name.”

“No!” I protest, mentally kicking myself.
Way to make a great first impression.
“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…I’ve never heard that name before,” I finish weakly. Although it’s the truth, I hope it sounds better to him that it does to me.

He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s pretty unusual. But I guess I’m stuck with it.”

“It’s…interesting,” I say, wishing I could think of something better to say.

Thinking about his name, I remember the information Liz gave my mom. Hadn’t she said the buyers were Carlotta and
Michael
Ambrose? Is Lovell their son? He is obviously young, probably somewhere between high school and college.

He is watching me intently, and I chafe under the scrutiny. I glance to the street, hoping to break his gaze. “Don’t you have a moving van or something?”

“No,” he shakes his head, but continues looking at me. “I don’t have much in the way of furniture. Just my personal belongings.”

I half-smiled and nod. I get the feeling he is waiting for me to say something further. Unable to come up with anything else, I add, “I think there’s a short or something in the wiring in your house.” The longer I stand there, the more uncomfortable I become. “A light kept flickering on and off last night.” I shuffle my feet. “I just happened to notice.”

“Yeah, I wondered about that. Some of the light switches work and some don’t.”

“You should probably get an electrician to look at it.” His eyes hold mine. I find it impossible to look away.

“Yeah, I will. Your mom recommended one, in fact. Got the number here.” He holds up a slip of paper.

“Good,” I say, suddenly desperate to get inside, away from his gaze. His nearness. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder when he’d spoken with my mom.

“Well, I better get going,” he says, smiling. I can’t help but notice he has perfect teeth. “It was nice to meet you, Kat.” He holds out his hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Reluctantly, I place my hand in his. His fingers instantly close around mine, warmth radiating from his palm. I feel an odd tingling sensation and quickly release my grip, hoping he hasn’t noticed my reaction.

“Sorry,” I mumble. Apparently it’s my turn to apologize. “I’m all sweaty. I just came back from a run.” I rub my hands against my sweatpants.

“Yeah. I kind of guessed.” His eyes sweep down to my feet and back up again, one corner of his mouth turning up in an incredibly sexy manner. I quickly push the thought aside. The guy is too weird to be sexy. “Maybe we can go for a run together sometime.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Is he asking me out? I have no idea. If he is, I know I won’t be taking him up on the offer.

“See you around,” he says, and walks across the lawn to his house.

I dart inside, thinking that no matter how much I love my neighborhood, or Mr. Davich, or my house, we need to move. Immediately.

“What’s with the new neighbor?” I demand, tossing the newspaper onto the kitchen counter.

“Hmm?” my mom says, turning her gaze from the TV, looking at me inquiringly. “Oh! Did you meet him?” She removes her glasses, her eyes shining with excitement. “He’s really nice, isn’t he? And talk about hot!”

“Mom!” I cry, grossed out by her wicked grin and waggling eyebrows. The guy is half her age. It’s a little disturbing.

“Well, he is,” she protests, ignoring my look of disgust. “You have to admit it.”

I groan inwardly, leaning against the counter. “Yeah. Whatever. I didn’t notice.” I totally had, but don’t want to discuss the obvious physical attributes of our decidedly creepy neighbor. And definitely not with my mom. “How is it that you’ve met him already?”

“He came over right after you left for your run. Wanted to know if he could borrow a coffee cup. He was just going to make instant coffee using hot water from the tap. Can you imagine?
Awful
. So I invited him in for a decent cup of the real thing.” She holds up her mug, like it’s some kind of trophy. She looks entirely too pleased with herself. “We had a nice chat.”

“You’re too generous, Mom. Do you really think you should have invited him in? He’s a complete stranger. Don’t you remember telling me over and over never to talk to strangers?”

“It’s different when you’re a child. You shouldn’t talk to strangers. But as an adult you have to make an effort to get to know people.”

I give her a more than skeptical look.

“He was perfectly harmless, Kat. I could tell. He’s just a young man, trying to get settled.”

I reach for a cluster of red grapes from a bowl on the counter and pop one into my mouth. “He says he moved in in the middle of the night. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

My mom shakes her head, taking a sip of coffee. “No. His flight out of Boston was delayed for several hours due to weather. Apparently we weren’t the only ones to get hit with some pretty severe storms last night. Anyway, he didn’t get in until after two.”

Likely story
, I think. “And what about his parents?”

“For the time being, he’s living there by himself. He’s eighteen, just graduated. His parents are world relief workers, so he’s spent most of his life moving from place to place. They’re in Indonesia right now, helping to build houses. He’s hoping they’ll be back by the end of summer. In the meantime, he’s going to get the house in order for them. I think we should do all we can to help him out.”

Why does my mom have such faith in this guy? He could be totally pulling her leg. Making up any story he wanted.

“I think you’re a little too trusting,” I say, popping the last grape in my mouth.

“Kat, he’s given me no reason not to trust him. Give him a chance. And, you have to admit,” she adds, coming over to place her arm around my shoulders, “he’s a lot nicer to look at than Mr. Davich.”

I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Where’s Dad?” Hopefully, there will be at least one other person who hasn’t taken leave of their senses.

“Golfing. He’ll be back this afternoon. Then I think he wanted to take you out driving. Make sure your skills are up to snuff. Because
somebody’s
about to turn seventeen.” She gives me a significant look.

Just for the moment, I forget about Lovell. “You’re going to let me get my license next week?” I feel a surge of excitement.

“I can’t imagine why not.”

“Thanks, Mom!” I hug her and head for the shower. Standing under the spray of hot water, my thoughts return to Lovell and his strange arrival. He may have won over my mom with a wink and a smile and a quick flex of his bicep, but I won’t be so easy.

_________

I spend the rest of Saturday cleaning my room, and studying for my chemistry final. I don’t see Lovell again. Apparently, he is busy doing…whatever it is you do in an empty house.

Dad takes me out driving during the afternoon and everything goes perfectly. I even manage to parallel park on the first try. He confirms what my mom hinted at earlier, and promises that I can schedule the driving test for my license next week.