She jumped back, biting back a scream.
“Ariel?” Tristan called through the thick wood, and she opened the door.
Tristan looked furious.
That was her first thought.
Her second thought was that he had good reason to be.
His sister, Mia, stood beside him, her face set in the perpetual scowl that Ariel had been seeing every day for weeks.
“Mia!” she said, surprised that the teenage girl was on her front porch. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s exactly what I was trying to find out,” Tristan muttered, giving his sister a gentle nudge into the house.
“I...” Mia began, and then shook her head, her straight dark bangs falling across her eyes.
“Spill it,” Tristan demanded, and Mia scowled.
“How about we discuss it over some lemonade or ice tea?” Ariel suggested. There was no sense standing in the foyer staring each other down, and it was obvious Mia had no intention of speaking. Not yet.
“I don’t believe in rewarding poor behavior,” Tristan replied. “She was outside looking in your back window. That doesn’t earn her a glass of lemonade.”
“What does it earn me? More time alone at the house?” Mia retorted.
“No phone,” he growled. “No TV. No visits with Jenny, either.”
That seemed to get Mia’s attention.
The teen scowled and crossed her arms over her stomach. “That’s not fair. I only came here because I heard someone had been shot at the high school. I knew you and Ms. Martin were supposed to be meeting there.”
“You went to the school?” Tristan’s jaw tightened. “I told you to go straight home after school and get some of the work that you’re missing done.”
“I did go straight home.”
“And then you went to the school?”
“No, I went to Jenny’s house. She lives right behind Ms. Martin’s place.”
“Jenny Gilmore?” Ariel knew that the two girls were best friends, but she’d had no idea that Jenny lived on the property behind hers. She’d been too busy trying to get ready for the baby to do much more than introduce herself to the neighbors who lived on her street. No way would she have walked the mile and a half through scrub and trees to knock on the farmhouse door.
“Yes. She lives with her grandmother.”
“I did know that. I just had no idea they were so close. I would have gone and visited before now.”
“Her grandmother doesn’t like visitors,” Mia said quickly. “She doesn’t hear all that well, and she’s really ancient. She gets tired out.”
“And, yet, you decided it would be a great idea to spend the evening with her?”
“She gave me a ride, Tristan. And she was going to drive me home.”
“Do you really think I want you riding around with someone who is ancient and tired out?” Tristan’s blood was obviously boiling. It was just as obvious that he was trying to keep his temper under control. “Mia, I have talked to you about this dozens of times. You can’t leave the house without letting me know where you’re going.”
“I called you at work. You weren’t there.”
“You knew I wasn’t there.”
“No, I—”
“Tea or lemonade?” Ariel cut in. She figured that if she didn’t, the two would be arguing all night.
“Neither,” Tristan responded. “But thanks. We’re going to get out of here. I’ll be by tomorrow morning to put in the door. If you have any trouble before then, don’t hesitate to call 911.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket, scribbled something on the back and handed it to her. “That’s my personal cell phone number. I think the one you have on file at the school is my work number. If you even have a feeling that something isn’t right, I want you to call me. Don’t worry about being wrong or bothering me for nothing. I want to be bothered, and I want to check out anything that seems even a little bit suspicious.”
“I appreciate that, Tristan.”
“Don’t just appreciate it. Act on it. You can’t take chances, Ariel. You’ve got two lives depending on you.”
He took his sister’s arm, tugging her back outside.
Ariel stood in the doorway as they walked to his SUV, his words echoing in her head. She hadn’t needed the reminder that it wasn’t only her life on the line. Every minute of every day, she felt the heaviness of the baby, the life wiggling and kicking and growing inside of her, and she felt the weight of her responsibility to her daughter.
Tristan opened the back hatch of the SUV, and Jesse jumped in. Then, he turned to face the house, his expression hidden by the darkness.
“You’d better head inside,” he called, and something in her warmed at his words, at the fact that he hadn’t been so focused on his sister’s trouble that he’d stopped worrying about her.
“I will.”
“Now would probably be best. Lock the doors and pull the shades, and stay away from all the windows. Okay?”
“You don’t think the guy from the school is going to come here, do you?”
“I think it’s always better to be safe than to be sorry. I’m going to ask Chief Jones to send a patrol down your road a few times a night until we figure out who was at the school.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded. “Mia and I will be here early. I can install an alarm system if you want. That might make you feel more secure.”
Nothing was going to make her feel more secure.
Not until she knew exactly what was going on.
She closed the door anyway, sliding the bolt home, and that little bit of warmth she’d felt when Tristan was there seeped away.
She should have felt safe in her little house on her quiet road. She should have felt as though everything that had happened at the school was just a fluke, some weird anomaly that wouldn’t be repeated. She couldn’t help thinking about Mitch, though, about the trouble he’d gotten himself into before he’d died.
He’d been in deep with people who’d had a lot to lose if his crimes were discovered. The Las Vegas police had assured Ariel that none of those people would care about coming after her. She had no information about Mitch’s contacts, no knowledge of anything besides the basics—trips he’d taken for work, dates and times that he’d left and returned. She’d always kept a calendar, and she’d had every one of his trips jotted into it.
The police had used that to tie Mitch in with arsons that had occurred at businesses all over the country.