TO DIE FOR (Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Book 8) - Willow Rose Page 0,1

back to the porch. As she came in through the door, she stopped, sensing something. She turned and looked just in time to see a truck go by her house, driving very slowly.

Their house was at the end of a cul-de-sac. It wasn’t often cars drove by if they didn’t come to visit Sarah and Scott. Some people would accidentally come down their street, then use it to turn around, and that was all the traffic they usually got. Sarah stared at the pick-up truck as it continued past her house, still going very slowly. She tried to peek inside the cabin, but the windows were dark, and she couldn’t see who was sitting in it. It returned to the street, then sped up while Sarah looked after it, heart pumping in her throat.

Easy now, Sarah.

Sarah watched as the truck disappeared completely, then turned around and went back inside, closing the door and locking it safely. She walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of white wine, her hand still shaking as she tipped the bottle. She sipped the drink, letting the wine run down her throat and do what it did best, calming her. Except it didn’t really work. Her heart was still beating rapidly, and she had a hard time finding rest. She walked back and forth by the kitchen window, sipping her wine, staring out into the street.

You’re paranoid, Sarah. It’s impossible.

Sarah took another sip, then decided it was time to stop staring out the window. She was about to turn and walk away when she spotted the pick-up truck again. It was driving up the street once more and soon entering the cul-de-sac. It was going even slower this time like the driver was trying to figure out if this was the right place or not.

Sarah gasped lightly, then walked back into the living room, holding a hand on her chest and her beating heart. She sat down on the couch, then looked at the phone, wondering if she should text Scott. She knew he had a meeting with a potential new client today, one that he had worked on landing for months. Life as a freelance graphic designer could at times be tough, especially when the economy was suffering. Scott hadn’t had many new clients this past year.

You can’t disturb him now.

Sarah sighed and put the phone down, then closed her eyes briefly, once again reminding herself that it wasn’t possible—that what she was imagining couldn’t possibly be happening.

You’re seeing things, making them up. You’ll end up paranoid if you’re not careful. You’ll be one of Scott’s clients.

She breathed again, easy and steadily, focusing on just that. Breathe in, hold it, and breathe out.

It worked. Her heart calmed, and as she opened her eyes again, she noticed something that immediately got her pulse to spike again, even worse than earlier.

There was something on top of the fireplace. Something she knew she hadn’t put there.

“What in the…”

Sarah jumped up, then grabbed the frame between her hands. The picture inside it had been replaced with another one.

One from her past. A picture of her taken five years earlier in a different place and time.

Sarah clasped her mouth and could barely breathe as she stared at herself from years ago. She pulled out the picture and set it on fire before throwing it in the fireplace. The tears began to flow just as there was a knock on the door. She dropped the empty frame, then turned to look.

Out in the driveway, she saw the pick-up truck. It had parked behind her car, and whoever was in it was now by her door—wanting in.

Part I

One week later

Cocoa Beach, Florida

I hid my face between my hands. I was sitting up in bed, looking down at Matt on the floor. He was kneeling while holding up the ring, an insecure smile on his lips. On my stomach slept Angelina—or Angel as we called her—our newborn. She was only three weeks old and still so small and fragile it seemed impossible she’d ever become as big as my other three children. I had just finished nursing her, and now she was sound asleep, acting like she hadn’t awakened me every two hours all night.

“So, what do you say?” Matt asked, his voice shivering.

I stared down at him, then reached out my hand and touched his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask. Yes, I’ll marry you, Matt.”

He smiled, then rose to his feet and put the ring on my finger,