“Who’s there?” she repeated.
I held my breath and listened to my heart pound as I mentally kicked myself for being such a jerk. If I got caught trespassing, sneaking around someone’s yard in the dead of night, and taken in, I’d be through in Lebanon. Ken would fire me, and I doubted very much Sam would stop him. If places were reversed, I’d want me out too.
I waited. No more calling, but no sound of her going back inside either. I risked another peek.
Alison still stood on the steps, but held the knife—a big kitchen knife—lower. Her posture was more relaxed. The knife had been for protection. Understandable for a woman living alone.
Knife… something about the gleam off the blade reminded me of the figure in the brush last night. Could that have been Alison?
But why?
She couldn’t know anyone suspected foul play. So why come after me?
Finally she turned back toward the door. She was about to step inside when something caught her attention. She was looking down.
I made a frantic search of my pockets. Had I dropped my flashlight? No. Here it was.
“Oh, shit,” I heard her say in a resigned voice.
She went back inside but didn’t close the door.
I debated my next move: Leave now and risk being spotted walking away, or wait here until things quieted down again. My hindbrain, locked into flight mode, was calling for the first option: Go now! Now-now-now! But I held back. Patience. Caution. Impulsiveness had landed me in this pickle; I needed a more deliberate approach to extricate myself.
I held my position. After a minute or so Alison reappeared carrying a bulging, white plastic garbage bag. She opened the can and tossed it in, then refastened the cover. When she reached for the handles, I realized what was coming next and put myself into motion.
Still in a crouch, I turned and padded around to the front yard. I was on my way to the far side of the trailer when I remembered the gravel driveway—the noise would give me away. Another shot of panic hit as I looked around and realized I had no place to hide—no trees, no foundation plantings, nothing except—
The front steps.
They numbered three, wooden, with an open railing up each side. Meager cover…
The sound of Alison coming made the decision for me. I darted to the steps and crouched on their far side, praying I wouldn’t be seen.
A few heartbeats later Alison rounded the corner of the trailer lugging the garbage can. She placed it at the edge of the pavement, dusted her hands, and returned to the backyard.
I stayed where I was, waiting, listening, praying she’d go right back to sleep. Despite the cool evening, I was bathed in sweat. I promised myself and the Almighty that if I reached my car without being discovered, I would never, ever pull another harebrained stunt like this.