The Watchful Neighbour - Debbie Viggiano Page 0,20
She’d interacted with someone of her own volition!
And then Jade froze as her eyes snagged on her trainers by the door. In her initial haste to escape Brad and get into the house, she’d failed to realise that the running shoes had been moved. She stared at them. Her recently acquired new ritual meant the running shoes were always placed in such a way as to temporarily block access to anyone coming in. Currently the shoes were placed neatly together on one side of the hallway.
Someone had been in her house.
Chapter Twelve
Jade didn’t waste a second. Ducking back out into the freezing night air, she ignored the pelting rain and once again hastened down the garden path. A second later, she was doubling back on herself and striding up to the front door of Number 2.
Fury whooshed through her veins, elevating her blood pressure until she felt like a boiling kettle without an off switch.
As Jade rapped on Greg Good’s front door, she was struggling to stop her features from contorting with rage. She saw a small movement to her left. The twitch of a net curtain.
Standing on the step in her unbuttoned coat, she shivered whilst waiting for Greg to answer the door. After a full minute, Jade was still standing there, soaked, and frozen. Clearly the guy was avoiding her. To hell with that!
Jade grabbed hold of the knocker and rapped again.
Bloody man, she thought to herself. Answer the damn door.
With mounting frustration, she rapped harder. And then Jade’s temper snapped, and she was consumed with outrage. The creep had let himself into her home, without permission, and not even a note through the letterbox by way of explanation. The prat had evidently gone in to have a snoop around. She wondered why.
Perhaps this bloke “got off” on silently entering another person’s property while they were out. Maybe he got some sort of vicarious thrill rifling through a neighbour’s private belongings. Possibly he even took things that didn’t belong to him. Not that he would have found anything worth stealing from Jade’s home. She had little in the way of expensive jewellery, and she wasn’t the sort who kept cash in a bedside drawer.
Livid at Greg’s lack of response, Jade let her rapping become a relentless banging. The net curtain twitched again which fuelled Jade’s anger. How dare he ignore her! Well she was going nowhere. She didn’t care if she stood outside in the elements all night long making enough noise to wake the dead. If that was what it took to bring him to the door and offer a pathetic excuse about why he’d violated her home – her sanctuary no less – then so be it.
The net curtain was still moving. It was obvious he was watching her. Jade abandoned the door knocker and stooped down to the letterbox. Pushing the flap inward, she hollered through the gap.
‘I know you’re in there, you coward, so open up. Do you hear me? Come to the door. Now! You have some explaining to do.’
There was no response.
Jade could feel a red mist descending. Frustrated, she made her hands into fists and began pummelling the door panels.
‘OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!’
She stooped down again. Peering through the letterbox, Jade glimpsed a shadow.
Ha! Resorting to foul language had done the trick. Greg was shuffling out to the hallway. About time.
There was the sound of bolts being drawn back, followed by the rattle of a security chain.
‘HURRY UP!’ Jade screamed.
Water was running off her chin and dripping from the end of her nose. She swiped one hand over her face in agitation.
Slowly, the door to Number 2 opened. But instead of a middle-aged man standing there, it was an old woman. She was dressed in a pair of faded floral pyjamas. Jade’s nostrils twitched at the heavy scent of roses. For one crazy moment, she thought the smell was coming from the flowery print on the old lady’s nightwear.
The woman grinned, revealing gums as pink as a newborn’s. Jade was momentarily taken aback. Oh God. This must be Mother.
‘Where’s your son?’
But Mother didn’t reply. Instead, she shoved past Jade to stand in the front garden, turning her face to the heavens and letting the rain wash over her face and hair. Raising scrawny arms to the sky, palms outstretched, Mother appeared enthralled. Within seconds her hair was hanging in wet rats’ tails and the floral nightwear was sodden.