Twisted Shadows Read Online Free

house bugged?
    You’ve been watching too many movies .
    She looked out at the dark, quiet street, the shadowy mountains behind it. Several hours until dawn.
    Perhaps a good run would help clear her mind. Sam went into her bedroom, pulled on a pair of jogging pants and shirt, and slipped out the back door. She hesitated for a moment, aware of a new wariness, then shook it off. Steamboat Springs had a negligible crime rate, which was one reason she loved it. She felt safe in every nook and cranny of the valley. She seldom even bothered to lock her doors. She did now, though, pocketing the key in her pants.
    She ran a mile, then turned back down the street that fronted her house, her footsteps pounding on the pavement and echoing along the street. Faster. Faster. Run away the emotions that were bubbling just beneath the surface.
    Had she heard the truth? Or a lie?
    Did she really have a brother?
    She approached her house. Her perfectly sane world. Her sanctuary. She’d never realized she felt that way about it before. Now she did. Her pace increased yet again and she felt moisture dampening her clothes.
    The light in the living room was still on. The one in her office was off. Just as it should be.
    She would make a cup of hot chocolate, then try to sleep for several hours.
    She unlocked the door, went into the kitchen and poured milk into a saucepan to heat.
    A sound intruded. Upstairs in the loft. A creak. Soft. Stealthy.
    Sarsy. It was probably only Sarsy.
    Still, Sam held her breath, listening. Another slight sound. A footfall? Or Sarsy jumping from a perch? But Sarsy’s paws wouldn’t cause a creak like that, not unless the cat brushed against something. Maybe that was it.
    It had to be. “Sarsy,” she called.
    No answering meow. No sound, except for the pounding of her heart that seemed to radiate out from her, filling the space around her. She searched through cabinets and found a rolling pin. It was the closest thing to a weapon she had in the house except for knives, and she wasn’t about to prowl the house with a sharp knife in her hand.
    The rolling pin gave her some courage, that and her knowledge of self-defense. She would probably call herself all kinds of an idiot in a few moments when she found Sarsy alone and safe and playing hard-to-find.
    She climbed the stairs to find the cat and, she admitted, to quiet her own fear.
    The computer was blinking. She thought she had turned it off. But she’d been distracted.
    Then she noticed the neat pile of papers on her desk. They were not so neat now. She knew she hadn’t touched them earlier. Sarsy again? She released a stifled breath. That was probably the noise: Sarsy jumping from the desk.
    She started to call the cat again, but no sound came from her throat as she heard a noise behind her, then felt a driving pain at the back of her head.
    It was still dark when she woke, and she knew she’d been unconscious for only a few seconds. A glancing blow. Nothing more.
    The door was open and she stumbled up to look out.
    Nothing .
    Her head ached. She touched the bump on her head. No blood. Just pain.
    She’d heard a noise, seen the computer and the papers … and she’d felt a blow, then nothing.…
    She walked unsteadily to the phone, pausing as a wave of nausea washed over her. She leaned against a wall for a moment, then picked up the receiver. The buzz sounded unusually loud. At least it worked.
    She dialed 911 and reported the burglary, giving her address and name, trying to keep it as matter-of-fact as possible, even though her head was spinning and her mind was having difficulty accepting that someone had actually invaded her home and assaulted her.
    â€œHang on to the line until you hear the sirens,” the operator directed her. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
    â€œA prowler. In my office. I’d … been jogging.”
    She looked down. She was still wearing the jogging clothes. They