that stretched along the property. Anything happening back there would be concealed. However, neighbors surrounded her on all sides.
She headed outside and began walking along the property line, looking for anything that might offer a clue. It all seemed useless, but she couldn’t give up. She had to do something!
If people had been back there, then they would have to leave through the fence. Otherwise, the only gate led to her driveway and anyone could have seen.
She paused by one area of the fence. Something there caught her eye. The section of pickets was slightly uneven with the rest. They hadn’t been like that before. She was certain of it.
She leaned closer. Along the edges there were pry marks.
Pry marks.
What if...?
“What are you thinking?”
Mark’s voice pulled her away from her thoughts. She’d nearly forgotten he was there he’d been so quiet and observant. Was he waiting for her to mess up? To slip up and reveal something that she hadn’t admitted yet?
She stared at the fence, her mind working like a computer processing new commands. Slowly, the information formed a picture. “What if someone lured Sarah to my house? Maybe once she got inside, they knocked her out or restrained her somehow. Then they took her out the backyard and through this section of fence.”
“How did someone have access to your house? Who else has a key?”
She refused to frown. “No one. But it’s not that hard to jimmy locks.”
“You don’t have an alarm? That’s usually the first thing people do when they’ve had a home invasion.”
This time the frown tried hard to break through, but she continued to fight it. The detective was sharp; she’d give him that. “I do. But I’ve only been using it at night.”
“Why would someone go through all of that trouble?”
“That’s the question you’re supposed to be figuring out.” She didn’t bother to look at his reaction. Instead, she pointed in the distance. “Sol’s property backs up to a section of woods. Maybe the kidnappers had a car waiting back there.”
“That’s a lot of work when someone could have grabbed her at the bus stop.”
Not if someone’s trying to frame me.
She kept that thought silent—for now—and locked gazes with Mark. “So what do you think?”
Mark stared into space a moment. He pressed his lips together in thought as if battling with himself. Finally, he nodded. “I’ve got to say that I can’t discount that possibility. I’ll have some of my men check it out.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “And you might want to seriously think about hiring a lawyer.”
Just then, car doors closed out front and more flashing lights appeared.
“Come on,” Mark said, cupping her elbow and leading her toward the back door.
“Where are we going?”
“I need you to wait inside while I talk to the guys out front. Stay there until I get back. Understand?”
She nodded. “Understood.”
Maybe—just maybe—the detective would eventually believe her. Maybe the police would start looking in the right direction, focusing their efforts on the real kidnapper instead of Laney.
She prayed to God that she wasn’t asking too much.
Please, Lord, give them wisdom. And watch over Sarah.
* * *
Mark’s comrades in arms had managed to catch the man who’d tossed the Molotov cocktail into Laney’s front yard. Mark had memorized his license plate, and the police had quickly tracked him down at his house two blocks over. As he suspected, the man—a neighbor—had wanted to show his displeasure that a “kidnapper” had been released into his neighborhood. The community often wanted to show their own justice at the atrocities that affected them, especially when they felt like the police weren’t doing their jobs.
The man had no prior history, but he’d acted as a vigilante on behalf of the neighborhood. He had a background first in the military and currently as a security guard, which he felt gave him a license to take justice into his own hands.
At the moment, fire trucks lingered outside Laney’s home, officials making sure there was no further danger from the bomb that was thrown, two police cars still remained, and an ambulance had even come, just in case. Neighbors peeked out their windows, curious about the circus going on outside their homes.
When he walked back inside, he stopped in the foyer. Laney held a metal object in her hand and swept it across pictures on the dining room wall. The machine started to beep by a mirror and she set what he now recognized as a metal detector on the table before shoving the mirror aside.
“What are you doing?” Mark’s hands went to his hips. Had this woman lost her mind? Was she paranoid?
She plucked something from the wall and stepped back, a deep frown on her face as she stared at the bug-sized object.
“I’m looking for these.” She raised the small, metallic device in her hands up to the light so Mark could get a better look.
“What is that?” Mark had an inkling, but that just didn’t fit with the situation or with Laney, for that matter. He still remained cautious, hoping the woman wasn’t crazy.
Fire lit her eyes as she met his gaze. “This is a camera. Someone’s been watching me. They’ve been learning my routine. Listening to my conversations. Who knows what else.”
She dropped it on the ground and smashed it with her foot with more vengeance than was probably necessary.
He started to stop her, reached for her, but finally dropped his hand and scowled. “If what you said is true, you just ruined our chances of tracking down whoever left it here,” he muttered.
She frowned and stared at the hardware on the ground. “You’re right. I was hasty. I just couldn’t stomach someone being able to record any more of my life or this conversation, for that matter. I’m sorry.”
“How did you know?” He tried to put the pieces together, what he knew about Laney, what he knew about this kidnapping. Something wasn’t fitting, and that realization caused unease to stir in him. What exactly was going on here?
Laney held up the metal detector. “This is a long story.”
“I have time.” He crossed his arms. She wasn’t getting out of answering that easily.
“It was just a gut feeling. I can’t explain it.”
“Normal people don’t have ‘gut feelings’ that they’re being bugged.” Paranoid people—maybe. But paranoid people were hardly ever correct. Laney, somehow, was.
She squirmed. “I’ve always been overly cautious. My husband was a SEAL.”
“Keep going,” he insisted.
“There were threats against the families of SEALs. We did some defense classes. Any other information, you’ll have to talk to his commander.”
“And the cameras? I suppose they trained you on how to find those also?”
The same fire flashed in her gaze again. “You’re avoiding the real issue here. Someone has been surveilling me and now I’m being set up. That was the third camera I found.”
He crossed his arms, trying to remain cautious. His unease was quickly turning into alarm. Why would someone have planted these in her house? Or was this just a scheme by Laney to take the attention off herself?
He rubbed