strides, then disappeared into the woods.
A few dogs raised their voices, objecting to his hurried footsteps. No one seemed to notice — too early to worry about thieves. He clicked on a small flashlight and found a path behind the backyards, probably made by kids, and ran to meet Claire.
A horrendous racket erupted from the dog next door when he vaulted one-handed over her fence. Claire, standing beside her car, called to quiet the damn dog.
A porch light beamed from the next house, and a man appeared, silhouetted in the open door. "Who's there?" he called, stepping down into the yard. "Claire, is that you?"
A lanky teenaged boy carrying a baseball bat appeared in the doorway behind the man.
Riley crossed the back yard and threw up his hands. "Dammit." He caught up with Claire. "I told you to stay in the car till I got here."
"Yes, I heard you." She arched an eyebrow and gave him a level look. "I checked before I got out. I'm not stupid."
"You thought you were safe the other night, too."
"I wasn't expecting anyone then. Tonight I checked carefully before I got out." A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. She walked over to the fence, leaving him standing.
Jesus. What if the guy'd been waiting for her?
Her back to him, she spoke to the neighbors. "It's all right, Hal, Jason. He's with me. Good boy, Goodyear."
Riley scowled, expecting at least a German shepherd. A large, hairy blimp on stubby legs trotted up to the fence. Goodyear. Claire reached over the gate and patted him fondly, smiled up at her neighbors. "Hal and Jason Beck, this is Mr. Riley. He's a..." She glanced over her shoulder at Riley.
"A friend of a friend." In two strides, he reached her side and stuck out his hand, knowing the gesture wasn't friendly.
Hal's gaze darted from Riley to Claire and back again, checking him up and down before accepting his hand. The guy bristled a little and took a step closer to Claire. Riley watched, kept his expression hard, and wondered about their relationship. Claire seemed unaware of the testosterone fogging the air.
Jason jumped over the picket fence to Claire's side, breaking the tension. "Are you a detective?" A shaky falsetto threatened to break through his excited voice, but the nascent baritone held. "I told Claire she should hire one."
"Jason," his father said.
"It's all right." Riley, in the face of such wide-eyed enthusiasm, relented. He didn't answer the question, just nodded and shook the boy's hand. "Is this your dog?"
"Yes, sir. That's Goodyear."
"He's a great watchdog. I came past several dogs who barely yipped. Only Goodyear here really sounded the alarm."
Claire gave the dog another pat. "He and Jason certainly saved me the other night. I don't think I'd have gotten off so lightly if it hadn't been for them."
"So lightly?" Jason turned to Riley. "There was blood every where. I thought he'd killed her or something. But he did take off like Freddy Kruger was after him when I came out of the house. I guess I scared him. I knew something was wrong. So did Dad. Goodyear never sounds like that."
"You saw him?"
"Yes. We saw a figure in black, running away." Hal pointed toward the woods. "We could see Claire on her knees in the light from the car."
Claire shivered. Her eyes lost their focus. Riley didn't know if she remembered the attack in the driveway or the headlights in the alley.
"Yeah. Dad stayed with Claire and I called 911. I told them she was hurt and what happened." The boy enjoyed telling his story. "The guy ran the way you came."
Riley turned to face the yard he'd just crossed. "I don't guess you could see anything about him. Too dark."
"No, I'm afraid not." Hal shoved his hands in his pockets, moved another step closer to Claire. "It happened so fast, and I was more concerned about Claire."
I'll bet , Riley thought.
Jason cocked his head and chewed his lip for a second. "I think he had a cold."
Hal turned to the boy, surprised. "A cold?"
Riley said, "Just tell me everything