Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

Apparently Casey did remember one of the self-defence moves she had learnt, her elbow driving back into her attacker’s chest. She heard a grunt, turned to knee him in the balls, but she wasn’t quick enough and he caught hold of her raised leg, tipping her off balance. She grabbed hold of him as she fell, knocking the wind out of herself as she landed on her back, the man sprawling on top of her.

Her immediate reaction was one of panic and she hit out, getting a jab in before he caught hold of her wrists, wrestling them to the ground above her head.

‘For fuck’s sake. Casey, it’s me!’

The familiar voice, then the sound of a dog barking, no, two dogs barking, had her paying attention. She paused, actually looking up at the man on top of her for the first time, her eyes widening in horror.

‘Finn?’

What the actual fuck? He had jumped her. Well… okay, maybe he hadn’t exactly jumped her, but he had startled her, sneaking up behind her like that and grabbing her shoulder.

Her fright gave way to anger, then quickly to embarrassment as she realised he was still lying on top of her, pinning her to the ground, his belly, groin and legs mashed against hers.

‘Get the hell off me,’ she grumbled, far too aware of his masculinity and the heat of his body; the fresh citrus scent and dampness curling his hair suggesting that he had recently come out of the shower. In the shadowy glow of the outdoor light, his face looked harder and she was close enough to see the stubble on his jaw and the glint of mischief in his eyes, as he stared at her, making no attempt to move.

Phoebe chose that moment to join them, barking at Finn, which seemed to finally spur him into action. Easing his grip on Casey’s wrists, he lifted his weight off her.

Casey glared for a moment at the hand he offered, before grudgingly taking it, and letting him pull her to her feet.

‘So do you have a habit of attacking your neighbours?’ he asked.

‘I didn’t attack you. You crept up behind me and scared the shit out of me.’

‘I called your name.’

‘Well I never heard you.’

‘Clearly.’ Finn studied her for a moment. ‘How come you’re out here so late anyway?’

‘I’m just home from work.’ When he lifted an eyebrow she elaborated. ‘I do the late show on East Coast Radio.’

‘You’re a deejay?’

He grinned at that, which had Casey’s hackles going up. ‘Yes, why? Is that funny?’

‘No, not at all. I will have to tune in.’

Casey wasn’t sure how she felt about that, knowing Finn might be listening to her. Of course, she was being ridiculous. She had no idea who might be listening.

Steve. She pushed thoughts of her earlier encounter from her mind.

‘So why are…’ She tailed off, spotting the large scruffy dog that had wandered up behind Phoebe and nuzzled its nose into her arse, making her give a surprised yelp. ‘Hey! Leave her alone.’

‘Bert! That’s enough.’

The dog – he looked too big to be a retriever or a collie – ignored Finn, following after Phoebe, who tried to hide behind Casey’s legs.

‘Hey, it’s okay, Phoebe. Can you please get him to back off? She gets nervous.’

She thought Finn was going to roll his eyes at her request, but with the faintest shake of his head, he whistled to the shaggy dog. ‘Hey, Bert, come here now.’ When Bert continued to take no notice, Finn had to step in to physically restrain him, holding him back by his collar.

‘You called your dog Bert?’ Casey barely managed to keep the incredulous tone out of her voice, the corner of her mouth twitching. The dog grinned up at her and she suspected he didn’t get much discipline.

‘Really?’ Finn’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re gonna criticise my dog’s name when yours is called Phoebe? Glass houses, Casey.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with the name Phoebe.’

‘For a human.’

Casey shook her head, yawned. It was late and she wasn’t up to debating dog names. She studied Finn, annoyed she still found him attractive. She should really be over him by now.

‘Well, lovely as this is standing around while you insult my dog, my bed is calling.’

She reached down to clip on Phoebe’s lead, wincing at the sudden sharp pain in her lower back.

‘Are you hurt?’

Was that concern she could hear in Finn’s voice?

‘I’m fine.’ Actually she wasn’t, could feel where she had landed heavily on the ground. Come tomorrow she would probably have a fetching black-and-blue bruise. There was no need to tell Finn that though. She went to clip on the lead again, this time masking her expression of pain. ‘But it’s late and I need to go.’

‘Look, I’m sorry I scared you.’

‘You didn’t and it’s all good. No doubt I’ll see you around. Say hi to Nicky for me.’

‘Vicky,’ he called after her, sounding amused.

Finn watched her go, could see she was limping slightly despite her best efforts to hide it, and he swore under his breath. She had caught him off guard, taking the full brunt of his weight and he felt bad that he had hurt her.

When he had opened his front door on Thursday morning, the last person he had expected to find standing on the other side was Casey Fallon.

He had thought about her many times over the years and considered his dickhead move of flirting with her and kissing her, before revealing he had a girlfriend, as one of the shittiest things he had ever done.

There had been no point in contacting her, though, to try and put things right, because, quite simply, he couldn’t fix it. Casey had been part of a case he had actively been involved with, plus there was his girlfriend. One he had gone on to marry four years later.

It hadn’t lasted, of course. The warning should have come that he wasn’t truly happy after he had kissed Casey, but he had ignored his doubts, trying to put that indiscretion behind him as a moment of madness and doing his best to be a dutiful boyfriend. He had dated Catherine for five years, but the marriage had survived less than two. It was as if the second they said, ‘I do’, they had both started trying to find fault with each other. Divorced before thirty, Finn had embraced his single lifestyle, and now tended to keep any relationships as casual as possible.

It was easier that way, especially with work. He had taken his detective’s exam eight years ago, moving to CID, had never gone for sergeant, as he didn’t want to spend his life managing people and doing admin. Doing the job, dealing with the public and investigating crimes was what he thrived on, and the women he had dated seemed to have little understanding of the unsociable hours he often had to keep.

He remembered Casey Fallon as a teenager. The first time he had met her she had been scared and agitated, her dark eyes wide and her olive skin pale, but still a quiet determination had shone through, her only focus on saving the life of Amanda Haines. Months later when the trial was finally over, he had seen a different side to her, understood that beneath that serious façade of wanting justice to be served, there was a nineteen-year-old girl ready to start living her life again. If he was honest, there had been something about her that first day they met and seeing her eyes light up when she bumped into him in the pub, had kicked his interest up a gear into full-blown attraction. It wasn’t an excuse though. He should never have led her on. She had been so angry with him and Finn honestly couldn’t blame her. He had lived with that guilt for a long time.

Now he was older, more jaded, and Casey, it seemed, was feistier and, God help him, even more attractive than he remembered. The blunt bob she had worn as a teenager had grown out and her hair was longer, made everything softer. What would she be now, thirty-three, thirty-four? Just a couple of years younger than him. When he had bumped into her outside his apartment, had realised who she was, he had actually caught his breath, was for a moment worried he was going to look like a complete dick, as he momentarily lost his words, looking her up and down, like some kind of lech.

It was the shock. He had thought he would never see her again.

Except here she was living in the same building. What were the chances of that? And he hadn’t seen any sign that she was living with anyone, had already discreetly checked her naked ring finger, though, of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a boyfriend hovering somewhere on the scene.

They were neighbours and he had been telling himself that hitting on her would be a bad idea, a terrible idea in fact, particularly given their history, but still he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She had taken the full brunt of his weight and it bothered him that she had been limping. He felt bad about that, though was pretty certain any offer to help her up the stairs would have been swiftly rebuked.

Scratching at his jaw and pondering his new neighbour dilemma as Bert, who had wandered over to the flower beds on his now extended lead, cocked his leg, Finn glanced at the spot where the pair of them had landed, eyes immediately going to the phone lying on the grass.

Casey must have dropped it.

He snatched it up, yanking on Bert’s lead and hurrying inside after her.

Her back must have been hurting her more than she had let on because she had taken the lift up, was exiting it with her hand on her hip and a pained expression on her face, as he neared the top of the stairs. Phoebe spotted him and Bert first, letting out a woof which had Casey glancing up. Seeing Finn approach she actually rolled her eyes.

He wasn’t deterred.

‘I did hurt you.’

‘I said I’m fine.’

‘You’re limping like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining. That’s hardly fine.’

‘Thanks for that comparison.’

When she reached her door and he was still standing there, she turned to him, arched a haughty brow.

‘Okay, if your plan was to see me to my door then we’re here, so you can go now.’

Finn grinned, held up her phone. ‘Actually, you dropped this outside. I thought I would be nice and return it.’

‘Oh.’ He had wrong-footed her and she had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. ‘Thank you, I appreciate that.’

He handed her the phone and she unlocked the door, eased it open just a fraction. Aware he was still standing there watching, her cheeks coloured. ‘Okay, goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

He started to walk away and she turned back to her apartment, though didn’t enter, keeping a firm grip on her dog’s lead.

Why was she being so hesitant about opening the door?

Curiosity had him lingering as he watched her peer through the crack, glance down towards the floor. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What? Nothing.’

‘Why don’t you want to open the door?’

She laughed at that, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘I am now opening my door. Go away.’

When he didn’t move she gave an exaggerated sigh, pushed the door wide. ‘Happy now?’

Finn wanted to go into the apartment, see the door from the inside. She had definitely been up to something. It was late, though, and he didn’t have a decent excuse. Besides, Casey had already stepped inside, was starting to close the door.

‘Want to grab some breakfast in the morning?’ he asked instead.

‘It’s already the morning.’

‘Okay, lunch. We could catch up. Old times’ sake.’

‘Goodnight, Finn.’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Go back downstairs to your girlfriend. I need to sleep.’

The door fully closed so she never heard the response he gave to that.

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’