Secretive by Sara Rosett Page B

she’d taken her labrador with her. Zoe was as familiar with Torrie’s house as she was with her own. Zoe went to the brick patio, pried up the third brick from the left and removed the house key from its hiding place. The rough brick slipped from her trembling fingers and fell back into place.
    She shoved it into alignment and raced up the steps to the kitchen door. She got the door unlocked with only a little fumbling then punched in the code to disable the alarm.
    Zoe closed the kitchen door and leaned against it for a second, listening for the sound of the van in her driveway next door. The wind rattled a window screen. The solid tick of the grandfather clock in the living room measured the silence. She ran a shaky hand over her mouth. Her fingers smelled of dust from the brick. She sucked in a deep breath then blew it out, trying to calm her racing heartbeat as she went to peek out the living room window to the street.
    The white van cruised by in one direction, moving slowly. The driver, Mr. Unibrow, swiveled his head from side to side. Zoe swallowed and watched the van reach the end of the street, make a three-point-turn, then retrace its route. It didn’t slowdown at her house, but continued at a slow pace until it reached the other end of the street. It sat there for a moment, red brake lights glowing, and then it made a hard right and accelerated away.
    Zoe let out a whoosh of breath, but didn’t move from the window. She stayed there a full fifteen minutes. She knew that much time had gone by because the grandfather clock chimed the quarter hour twice, each time nearly giving her a heart attack. She decided that they really weren’t coming back.
    Zoe locked up Torrie’s house then scurried over to her house. The first thing she did was check every door and window. Had the attempt to get her been a random thing? Had Mr. Unibrow and his stocky companion gone after her simply because she was a lone female in a deserted neighborhood? She came slowly down the stairs, running over the whole incident again.
    No, she didn’t think it had been a coincidence. There had been something about the way Mr. Unibrow studied her as he slowed the van to her pace. He had thoroughly checked her face before he blocked her path. She shivered, despite still having a sheen of sweat on her after her frantic race home.
    And, there had been two of them, a team. Not some loner weirdo, attacking women in a deserted area, like she heard about on the news. She paused on the last step, her hand tight on the banister. No, it had been coordinated, and it was only because she knew the neighborhood better than they did that she was here at home and not in the back of that van.
    Faintly, she heard a car move down the street. Her heart rate, which had settled into a normal rhythm, jumped back to high gear. She moved stealthily toward the living room window. The tension drained out of her as she watched a familiar SUV cruise by. Zoe recognized the driver, a mom who lived down the street and seemed to spend half her day in the SUV, shuttling her kids to and from school and activities.
    Zoe spun away from the window, suddenly angry that the sound of a car moving down her street made her afraid. She stalked into the kitchen, snatched up the phone, and found the card the FBI agents had left. But instead of dialing, she switched the phone from hand to hand. She didn’t have much to tell them, no specifics—just a white van and general descriptions about the two guys. She didn’t have a license plate number or even a witness. Sato in particular was already doubtful about the silver car. What would he say when she called with the news that another vehicle had not only followed her, but a passenger had come after her?
    No, she wasn’t going to open herself up to more questions. Donna hadn’t been big on life lessons or making good choices, but one thing Zoe had absorbed from growing up with Donna was not to trust anyone. She’d trusted Jack and look