But as she took the first step she was jerked off her feet. The earth pounded beneath, shuddering and shaking, making her pitch forward and fall to the ground. Even as she clung to the ground, digging her fingers into the dirt, the pounding began again, louder this time, jarring her brain with the violent vibrations of a jackhammer.
“Uh, what?” Anya jerked awake and her eyes flew open but all she could see was darkness. She sucked in her breath, still shaking from the shock of her nightmare, her pajama top damp and clinging to her skin. Slowly, she exhaled.
“It’s only a dream,” she muttered. “Only a dream.” Then she drew in another deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.
Where had that nightmare come from? She hadn’t had one of those in years. This whole Rafe thing, with him showing up out of the blue, was having a serious effect on her. What was she going to do?
Anya threw back the covers. She was feeling too hot, too sticky to lie down and she badly needed a glass of water.
But just as her toes touched the floor the silence of the night was shattered by a horrendous hammering. Someone was downstairs pounding on her back door.
Eyes wide, Anya’s gaze flew to the digital clock on the nightstand. Three forty-three. Who could be at her door at this hour?
Her heart jerked in fright. It could only mean one thing. There must be a fire!
Heart pounding, she jumped off the bed and ran to the door then she flipped on the hallway light and flew down the stairs. She was dashing down the hallway toward the back door when she skidded to a halt. She’d thought there was a fire but where was the smoke? The hallway light partially illuminated the path to the kitchen but there was no sign of smoke and it didn’t smell like anything was burning. Could she have been mistaken?
A new fear gripped her. Someone was at her door and she had no idea why.
Her heart beating a staccato rhythm, her breathing quickened by fright, Anya moved into the shadows and crept stealthily toward the back door. She had no intention of opening to anyone. In fact, her first instinct was to call the police but she had to see who it was. What if it was Helga seeking refuge in the middle of the night?
The kitchen bathed in darkness, Anya sneaked in, glad that she didn’t need light to know exactly where everything was. Silently she slipped over to the curtained window. Making sure she could not be seen she crouched down by the sill, shifted the curtain ever so slightly and peered through.
What she saw made Anya suck in a sharp breath. There, on her back porch, stood a shadowy figure, much too tall to be Helga. It was the dark and dangerous man from her dream.
Anya gasped again and made to move back, ready to dash to her room and to safer ground. She would lock herself in and call the police from there. She was pulling back from the window when the man stepped forward, raised his fist and began pounding on the door.
“Come out of there, you damn busybody,” he yelled, his German almost incomprehensible. His voice was so slurred it was obvious he was drunk as a sailor. “You turned her against me. It’s all your fault.” His words broke off on a hiccup then a sob. “You destroyed my life, you bitch!” And then he began beating on her door again, this time longer and louder, banging like he planned to break it down.
Not waiting another second Anya backed away then turned and streaked back the way she’d come, through the house and up the stairs, not stopping till she’d slammed her bedroom door behind her. She flipped the lock and although it was flimsy it made her feel a tiny bit more secure.
But she didn’t stop there. There was no way she was going to have a crazy man banging on her door. What if he got the insane idea to break in?
As she grabbed the phone to call the police she bit her lip. She’d thought Rafe Kent was the worst of her problems but mow she was facing a threat far more serious. If Karl Gruber was who Helga said he was, that man was the last person anybody would want as their enemy.
***
When Rafe Kent made up his mind to do something you could consider it good and done. He’d said he was going to give Anya her space and that was exactly what he’d been doing all week. After the way she’d doused him with cold water that first day he wasn’t giving her a second chance. Not for a while, anyway. Not until he’d given her time to get over whatever her problem was so that she could at least not run the minute she saw him.
And so, next day when Rafe saw her in the teachers' lounge, he gave her the coolest of nods and later when the principal called the staff together so that he could be formally introduced he gave the same polite little smile he gave everyone else.
By Wednesday when he ran into her in the cafeteria Anya’s glance had changed from surprised and cautious to openly curious. He could just imagine the questions floating around in her head. Why the sudden change, she must be wondering. How come he’s not trying to make conversation? Why is he ignoring me?
Well, he wouldn’t be giving her any answers. Only when her curiosity was at its peak would he even consider approaching her again.
Soon, though, there were other matters that effectively distracted Rafe from his interest in Anya. With a class full of little tykes he had his hands full each day but by his third day at the school there was one little boy who really sparked his interest. Little Albert was a shy child, which wasn’t so strange for one who was only four years old. But that wasn’t what caught Rafe’s attention. There was an air of sadness about the little one that made Rafe spend just a little more time playing with him, trying to draw him out of his shell. What could have happened in the life of one so young to make him afraid to smile? How could a child, hardly more than a baby, resist the urge to run and play?
Unable to suppress his curiosity and concern Rafe decided to get some answers. “What’s Albert’s background?” he asked Mrs. Rosner. “Is everything all right at home?”
The lady shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said. “Albert just started at our school this year. I’m just getting to know him myself but I did notice he's a bit on the quiet side.” Then she smiled. “It’s good that you’re so concerned but maybe it’s nothing but a bit of shyness. I think he’ll fit in very soon.”
Rafe appreciated that she was trying to reassure him but he was far from convinced. What he was seeing was no ordinary shyness. When he looked into those soft brown eyes there was a sadness lingering there that should never be seen in the eyes of a child. “What do you think,” he said, speaking slowly as the thought came to him, “if we ask his parents to come in? Maybe if we speak with them they can shed some light on what's going on with him.”