Exposure - By Brandilyn Collins Page 0,4

said nothing about the fact she’d parked close to a fire hydrant.

“You all right to drive yourself? I’ll follow you.”

“Yeah, I’m . . . good.”

He gave her a little smile.

Kaycee crossed the street while he peeled left toward a black-and-white cruiser in the parking lot. Driving back to her house, it was all she could do to keep her eyes on the road. The rearview mirror pulled at her, as did the shadowed yards on her right and left. Somewhere out there people were watching. Not imagined this time. For real.

Kaycee pictured her mother, always looking over her shoulder. Always afraid. Driven to uproot Kaycee and move every few years. The irrational paranoia in Monica Raye had been so great it had oozed its way into her daughter’s soul by the time Kaycee was nine. But never had Monica Raye faced any proof that her fears were based in reality.

That picture! The man’s bloodied face. It wailed a siren song of violence and utter terror. Of a world breaking apart.

Kaycee blinked. What did that mean?

She turned into her driveway and hit the button for the garage door. As it opened, Mark pulled into the drive behind her.

In silence they walked under the covered way toward the back door. Kaycee could feel the vibes coming off Mark. He didn’t believe anyone hid inside the house. After all, she’d cried wolf four times before.

As her shaking hand lifted the house key, Mark stopped her. “When you got here, was this door locked?”

“Yes, and bolted. This key turns the bolt and opens the door, but the regular lock stays in position until I undo it from inside.”

Mark looked around. “See anything unusual out here?”

“No.”

“All right. Let’s go in.”

Kaycee slid her key into the lock. As she pushed open the door, panic overwhelmed her. She swallowed hard. “I’ll just . . . wait out here.”

He moved to go inside.

“Light switch is on your left, remember? And the camera’s across the kitchen, on the table.” A thought hit her. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

“I picked up the camera. I left fingerprints.”

“Okay.”

The overhead light flicked on. Kaycee’s heart cantered into double time. She pressed knuckles to her mouth.

Fight the fear, fight the fear.

Mark stepped into the kitchen.

That dead man’s face. It throbbed in her memory. The eyelids frozen half open. The gore. Who was he? Who killed him?

Who was watching her?

“Where’d you say the camera is?” Mark spoke over his shoulder.

“On the table.” She pointed, averting her gaze.

“Don’t see it. Is there some other table?”

“No. It’s right where you’re looking.”

“There’s nothing there.”

She stilled for a moment, then edged over the threshold to his side.

The table was empty.

Anger and fear and violation swelled within her. She stared at the blank spot, one hand thrust in her hair. “It was there, I swear it. It was there.”

“Okay, okay.“

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a two-year-old, Mark. I’m telling you I saw a camera on that table!”

“Maybe you — ”

“It took a picture of me.” Her voice rose. “I picked it up and saw the picture in its viewer. And then I clicked back one photo — and that’s when I saw the dead man. A close-up. And it wasn’t just any dead man. It was real dead. Like holes-in-his-head dead. And words were written right into the picture. They said, ‘We see you’ . . .”

Kaycee leaned against the counter and covered her eyes with her hand.

Awkward silence rolled off Mark.

“Tell you what.” He touched her on the arm. “Let’s walk through the house together, all right? Make sure everything’s clear.”

With unseen eyes watching? No way. She couldn’t walk through this house ever again.

Mark surveyed her. “You could stay here and wait if you want.”

By herself ? “No way. I’m coming.”

Muscles like taut rubber bands, she trailed him out of the kitchen.

FOUR

The longest day in Martin Giordano’s twenty-nine years had begun with a mouse in the toilet.

“Eeeeee!” his four-year-old daughter, Tammy, shrieked. “Daddy, get it out!”

Martin stood in his pajamas, surveying the gray creature swimming around the stained bowl. What to do? He couldn’t flush the thing. What if it backed up the pipes? But he wasn’t about to reach his hand in there and pull it out.

Lorraine hovered behind him, one hand to her mouth and the other gripping their little girl’s shoulder. Tammy’s frightened sobs quickly turned to heavy coughing. “Come on now, shh, shh.” Lorraine picked Tammy up and held her tight. “You don’t want to make the cough worse. Daddy will take care of the mouse.” Carrying