Secretive by Sara Rosett Page A

look silly—like she was afraid. The driver was probably turning around. He’d back out in a second...
    The panel door slid open and a second guy, this one tall and stocky, hopped out, his gaze fixed on her. He was several feet away, but another cold wash of fear blanked out every thought. She went with her instinct—run.
    Zoe turned and sprinted back the way she’d come. She ran as hard as she had ever run, adrenaline making her fast and nimble. She ducked under a low-hanging tree branch and swooshed by a set of low hedges, their stiff leaves scraping her legs, but she barely noticed.
    She twisted her head to look behind her, expecting to see the guy chasing her, but he’d vaulted into the van as it reversed out of the driveway. He closed the panel door with a thud. The driver threw the van into gear then accelerated toward her. She only had a lead of a few feet.
    She scanned the deserted street. Why wasn’t someone out checking their mail or walking their dog?
    The van roared closer, its daytime running lights glowing just behind her shoulder. Large cottonwoods with sturdy trunks marched down the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street. Zoe was sure that if the trees hadn’t been there, the van would have jumped the curb to get closer.
    The tree trunks flicked by. The van’s engine surged and it accelerated in front of her as they approached a cross street. Whispering Wind Court, Zoe thought with relief. She cut diagonally across the yard of the house on the corner and sprinted into the small cul-de-sac.
    It was part of her regular route. She normally jogged down the stubby street to add an extra couple of tenths of a mile to her jog, but there had been that day when rain poured down unexpectedly, and she’d used the easement between two houses on the far end of the cul-de-sac as a shortcut to get to her own street.
    The van turned onto the cul-de-sac, brakes squealing. Zoe’s feet pounded through the thick grass as she made for the opening between the two houses. Leaves brushed her shoulders as she sprinted down the narrow opening between the hedges. She checked her speed slightly. Hadn’t there been a drop off? The ground dipped away from the homes into a narrow basin then rose again to meet the backyards of the homes on Zoe’s street. She stepped cautiously over a stack of tree limbs near piles of grass clippings. This was the dumping ground for the yard waste from the homes on the cul-de-sac. With the sudden slow down, her labored breathing sounded loud.
    Brakes screeched and the solid whoosh of the van’s panel door sliding open carried across the quiet neighborhood. She high-stepped through the grass clippings, found the drop off of about three feet and skittered down, bringing a shower of dry grass and leaves with her. A few steps through some squishy, damp ground at the low point, and then she scrambled up the far side through more leaves and loose branches. She couldn’t help taking a quick look over her shoulder.
    The stocky man burst out from between the hedges, spotted her on the other side of the depression, and hesitated. Zoe could see that he was torn between following her and going back to the van. Zoe didn’t wait to see what he decided. She dove into the dim corridor between two houses, crossed the lawn, and hit the sidewalk at a run, automatically turning in the direction of her house.
    It was only three houses away, and her feet flew across the short distance. She cut across her yard and sprinted up the driveway, then jerked to a stop.
    Did they know where she lived? They obviously knew where she jogged. Breathing hard, she looked longingly at her house. She wanted to run inside and deadbolt the door, but if they were coming here, that was the last place she should go.
    Zoe switched direction, sprinted to her neighbor’s house, and reached over the gate to unlatch it from the inside. She walked Torrie’s dog a few times a week, but this week Torrie was visiting family, and