Always Watching

I’d seen slowing down in front of my house.
    *   *   *
    I called Corporal Cruikshank and explained about the truck, mentioning that I had seen it before, and that I’d found a footprint in my yard one morning and was getting some hang-ups. She took down the description of the truck, but I wasn’t positive about the make or model. She said I should try to get a license plate number next time, and be aware of my surroundings when I left my home. I had a shower and made the bed, all the while trying to convince myself that the truck had probably belonged to one of the college kids who lived at the end of the street. They often raced up and down, and I worried they would hit someone or an animal one of these days. The night I saw them outside, they’d probably just been texting or adjusting the stereo. But I was having a hard time believing it.
    I wasn’t working that day, so I busied myself with chores. Though, I did take a drive by the Monkey House in case the drug addict had been lying, and Lisa was still there. I even checked inside again, but someone else was now staying in the room where I’d found her before. I also stopped by the hospital to grab a book from my office, wondering if I might run into Kevin. There was no sign of him.
    Later that night I was cleaning up after dinner when the phone rang, showing a private caller. “Hello?” I repeated it several times, but was only greeted by silence. I said, “Lisa? Is that you?” Then I heard a click. I set the phone back down, a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. What if it had been Lisa? What if she was hurt, or sick, and couldn’t speak? Again I considered going to the commune and demanding to see her. I thought about Kevin’s words of caution. Damn it all. I had to know if she was okay.
    I was in the process of getting my purse and keys together when the phone rang again. This time it was Steve Phillips.
    “I was able to get hold of a friend with a cadaver dog. He was planning on doing some training exercises anyway, so he’s going to come up to Shawnigan tomorrow, and we’ll take a walk down by the old commune, see what we sniff out.” There was an edge of excitement to his voice. “Did you want to join us?”
    “Please.” My blood surged with new hope. If they found something at the site, they might bring Aaron in sooner. If there was enough bad press, the retreats might even shut down. I explained to Steve what had transpired the day before.
    He said, “It’s possible they targeted Lisa.” I sat down on my hall bench, fear taking my legs out from underneath me. “But she could’ve also got that drug addict to make up the story to throw you off. Either way, if she’s in there, she probably won’t like you showing up. I’ve got a grown son. He was hell on wheels in his twenties. He always did the opposite of what I wanted—just to piss me off.”
    “Unfortunately, she’s the same.” I set my keys down beside me.
    “My son, he came out of it all right. Maybe just give her some time.”
    “Lisa’s had a couple of close calls.” I flashed to the image of her pale in bed after her overdose. How many more could she survive? What if something went wrong at the center? “What time should I come up in the morning?”
    I had to do something.
    *   *   *
    That night, I woke abruptly with every nerve alert, sure that I’d heard a noise. I lay quiet in the dark, my heart thudding as I strained my ears. What was it? Something outside? The truck slowing down again? There was nothing but silence, then the feeling that I wasn’t alone. Someone was standing nearby.
    I reached up and slapped the light switch beside my bed, grabbing for the phone and my mace at the same time. I rolled off the side of the bed, crouched in a defensive position as I faced my room, ready to attack. There was no one there, just the faintest whiff of lavender floating in the air, like a memory.

 
    CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
    The morning was dismal and wet. I was glad that I’d dressed in jeans, hiking boots, and my warm goose-down coat when I got out at the driveway of the old commune, the rain sneaking in under my skin, turning my hands red with cold. Steve’s truck was already parked on the road, and behind it, a black SUV, with tinted windows. Inside, a dog barked. Steve and another man, also lean and tall, but with a hard-lined face and snow-white hair and mustache, were standing near the SUV, stainless-steel coffee cups in hand, steam billowing up