She snapped her gaze to Bette’s. “What if that’s Baxter rather than Adam?” Bette glanced toward the window. “If I know Baxter, he would’ve been carrying a damn knife.” She grimaced. “Chances are that won’t be Lacey on the other side of the door.” Laura closed her eyes as nausea rose on a vile wave in her stomach. “Don’t say that.” The letterbox clanged open. “Laura? You have to let me in. Please, listen to me.” She opened her eyes and Bette blurred in Laura’s vision. Adam. He was all right. She rushed from the living room into the hallway and pulled open the door. He stood there, his hair disheveled and his gaze desperate. Why was she so stupidly happy to see him? So moved by his actions to defend her? Why did she want to kiss him until she couldn’t breathe? “Laura, please. I am serious. It does not matter to me what you might or might not have done—” She grabbed his jacket and pulled him inside. With her eyes locked on his, she slammed the door shut.
