"I . . . don't know," she stammered.
"You don't know why you hid it, or you don't know if you're afraid of me?"
She stood, meeting his gaze with defiance. "Both!"
His expression softened. "Well, it doesn't look like you're all that scared of me right now."
She held his gaze steadily. "No, I don't suppose so."
The blue ice melted with warmth and a slow smile twisted his lips in an attractive way. His voice was soft, anger suddenly a thing of the past. "Well, maybe you should be - a little, anyway."
As he walked away, her stomach did a flip-flop. Maybe she should be, at that. Whether he was speaking about emotional or physical fear, was a mystery. She let out her breath in a long sigh of relief. Apparently his mood had been inspired by the telephone call she made to Connie a few nights ago. She thought he was outside, but obviously he was near. Remembering his stealth in the forest, it became obvious that she would have to be equally careful in the house. How much had he heard? Other than the brief conversation about seeing him with Allen, they had not discussed him. Instead, they had talked about the house and how she would assume responsibilities. Nothing earth shattering there, nor anything Yancey would find either threatening or interesting. He did have a valid complaint about the telephone, though.
She glanced down at Sarah. "I don't understand his moods."
Sarah shrugged, continuing her work. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. I don't think he does either."
She tucked the pencil in the spiral part of her tablet. "It's late. I believe I'll go to bed." Sarah said nothing as she walked away.
In bed, she tossed and turned. Howard hadn't said anything about the meeting with Allen. Surely Connie had relayed the message to him. And why had he called on the house telephone instead of her cell phone - only to give her information Connie had already supplied? He did ask if she could talk. Maybe he had more information he didn't want to give over the phone with Yancey listening. In that case, why hadn't he called her cell phone? At first she had thought he tried, but there was no missed call - no message.
Finally she threw back the covers and rolled out of bed. A little fresh air might clear some of the cobwebs. The answer had to be there. She simply wasn't looking at it - or maybe for it. Pulling a robe over her nightgown, she tiptoed down the hall and silently opened the door to the patio. Closing it behind her, she moved into the cool moist air. The concrete patio felt cool on her bare feet. The night air smelled of honeysuckle and pulsed with the sound of crickets. Clouds drifted away from a full moon, drenching the patio with soft lunar light. It was a perfect evening . . . until something slithered across her foot. She screamed involuntarily.