Читать книгу Everywhere She Goes - Janice Kay Johnson - Страница 12
ОглавлениеCHAPTER THREE
WHEN NOAH AND Cait walked into Chandler’s Brew Pub, a host rushed to greet them, and what other employees Cait could see were suddenly very busy. Cait would have been more amused if she didn’t now work for him, too.
He’d been nothing but agreeable all morning, from the minute he had walked her to her new office. After barely giving her a chance to glance around, he’d hustled her back out so he could introduce her to half the people who worked for the city. Within an hour, names were running together in her head. Perhaps seeing that her smile was growing strained, he had decided to drive her around in his truly enormous SUV so she could see ongoing projects.
“I’d like to take you to lunch,” he had then declared.
She felt a flutter in her chest at the idea of having to look at him over a table for an hour and make conversation. She found herself wishing he was married, maybe had a couple of kids she could ask about. Knowing he was single was part of what had her on edge.
Noah Chandler was an incredibly sexy man despite the fact that he was the next thing to homely. Or maybe that wasn’t it, she’d found herself thinking as she stole glances at him while he drove. Colin had said he was an ugly bastard, but Cait couldn’t imagine any woman agreeing with that assessment. No, he only surprised her because, except for the very sharp blue eyes, he looked like a laborer, not a politician. He ought to be operating a forklift or heaving heavy loads in and out of trucks or railroad cars, not wearing a beautifully cut suit and running a city. She wondered how he kept that powerful physique. Certainly not by scowling at his computer monitor and hammering the keyboard, the way he’d been when she had stepped into his office that morning.
He wasn’t a physical type that had ever attracted her, for which Cait gave thanks. Surely she’d become inured to the intensity that seemed to be as much a part of him as his raspy voice and tendency to be abrupt when he forgot he was trying to give the impression he was an easygoing man.
They had barely been seated by the eager host when a pretty blonde waitress magically appeared with menus. She wore a tight little black skirt and a crisp white shirt that strained over generous breasts.
“Mr. Chandler,” she purred.
He glanced at her with scant interest and nodded. “Jess.”
Looking disappointed, Jess retreated with their drink orders, walking more like a model prowling a catwalk than a busy waitress.
Cait was mildly surprised that her new boss had asked for iced tea rather than a beer.
“You said you have three locations,” she said.
He hadn’t even opened his menu. “This was the first.” He looked around, as if appraising the place. “The one in Bend is the busiest. We have live bands playing three or four nights a week. Comedians do better than music in Sisters, for some reason. Here?” He shrugged. “The Friday-and Saturday-night crowd like entertainment. Otherwise, food and drinks seem to be the appeal.”
Curious despite herself, she had to ask, “You were so bored, you decided instead of expanding your business or finding a new hobby, you’d run for mayor?”
His grin gave her a few palpitations she should definitely ignore. Cait was a long way from even thinking about getting involved with a guy again, and if and when she ever did, she was looking for gentle, funny, intellectual. The reasons she’d always been drawn to domineering men were not subtle. Now that she’d faced them head-on, she would make better choices. All she had to do was remember her father. The terrifying fights he and Colin had had.
Blake.
Never again.
And even if she had been attracted to Noah Chandler, she now worked for him. Would, in fact, be working closely with him. So knock it off.
All that intensity was being trained on her right now, though, which made it hard. His eyes were a startling blue, especially considering his hair was dark.
“What’s good to eat?” she asked, hiding behind the menu.
He laughed. “Now, what do you expect me to say to that? Everything, of course. I usually have a burger or one of the potpies, but I’m thinking pizza today.”
They agreed to share one called “The Farm Kitchen” that had a delicious-sounding combination of roasted red peppers, black olives, artichoke hearts and more with a roasted garlic tomato sauce. Jess took their order of pizza and salads and again retreated, with a last, sulky glance over her shoulder.
“I think your waitress has a crush on you,” Cait observed.
His eyebrows climbed in surprise. “I can’t imagine. What is she, nineteen, twenty?”
“And you’re such an old man?” Oh, teasing him wasn’t smart. Professional, she reminded herself. Keep it professional.
“Thirty-five. Not quite old enough to be her father, but close enough.” Those vivid eyes stayed on her face. “Now that I’ve hired you, am I legally safe to ask how old you are?”
“Twenty-nine. The same age as Colin’s wife. Have you met her?”
“In passing. I’ve read plenty about her.”
Cait nodded. “It’s funny, because I remember her from third or fourth grade. Or maybe both. Do you think I’d recognize a single other kid from that long ago?”
His rough chuckle felt like a touch. “No? But I understand why you did. The paper printed plenty of pictures from when she was a kid and then when she appeared last year. Not much change.”
Cait laughed. “She claims to remember me, too, but I think she’s making it up.”
“What about you? How much have you changed?”
Something about the question froze her in place. She wanted to believe...oh, that she was nothing like that timid ten-year-old. But everything that happened with Blake had made her realize that she couldn’t shake her past.
“I was a beanpole,” she told him, keeping her voice light. “Taller than all the boys at that age, and ridiculously skinny. I had white-blond hair then, too. You wouldn’t have recognized me, I promise you.”
“I’m not so sure,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “Why did you look so unhappy when I asked you that?”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
He shook his head, impatience on his face. “Never mind. None of my business.”
Silence enveloped their table. Cait looked down at her place setting to avoid his too-keen gaze. Oh, why not? she asked herself. Blake was the only secret she had.
“We weren’t a happy family,” she said, probably startling him.
He’d been scowling toward the cluster of employees who hovered near the check-in at the front entrance, but his head turned sharply when she spoke. Without looking at them, she knew they had to be sagging in relief. She would have been.
When he said nothing, she gave a one-shouldered shrug. “In those days, I mostly tried to disappear into the woodwork. I was safest if no one noticed me, you see.”
“Safest?” He sounded out the word. “Were you abused?”
“Our father was violent.” Now her voice sounded small and tight. “Mostly when he was drunk. Unfortunately, he owned a bar and, by the time he got home, he was almost always drunk.”
“I had no idea.”
“Why would you? You and Colin aren’t exactly friends, and I doubt he talks about it anyway.”
“No.” Noah sounded disturbed. “No, I don’t suppose he would.”
“Men don’t like to, do they?” What made her say that? she wondered, appalled. Was she hinting he tell her his background?
If so, he didn’t take her up on it. Their salads arrived, saving them from awkwardness. Noah asked how much seemed familiar here in town, and she was able to reminisce about the much smaller town from her childhood.
“I was remembering going to the movie theater.” She smiled at memories that were good. “Colin took me sometimes when Mom or Dad wouldn’t. He’s five years older, you know. I hate to imagine the kinds of movies he sat through for my sake! And just think if one of his friends had seen him.”
Noah’s mouth curled up on one side. “Death to a guy’s reputation,” he agreed. “Just think, now you can choose from half a dozen movies or more any Friday night.”
He admitted, when she asked, to attending the community theater’s productions on a regular basis. He had even acted in high school. “I was always the villain, of course.”
“Of course?” she echoed in surprise, then flushed when again his eyebrows rose.
“Not even my mother would call me handsome,” he said drily. “I did a hell of a job with Iago, though, if I do say so myself.”
What could she do but laugh?
The pizza, when it came, proved to be fabulous. Prompted by her questions, Noah was willing to talk about opening his first brew pub. “I still okay every menu item,” he admitted, “but I was never a cook. I have a recurring nightmare about drowning in beer, though. Kegs breaking open, and I’m trying to get them stacked but meantime the beer is pouring down on me, into my nose and mouth.”
She chuckled but had a feeling this was black humor for him. She wanted to ask if he liked his product as well as her father had his, but she refrained.
“Lucky I’m a workaholic,” he said finally.
Cait could have guessed that. “What made you run for mayor?”
He eyed her, and she suspected he was trying to decide how honest to be. “Frustration,” he finally said. “That’s probably what drives most businessmen to get involved. You discover too many factors are out of your control.” He tipped his glass of iced tea to her. “Traffic. Zoning, taxes, the adequacy or otherwise of local law enforcement. In my case, once I started expanding, I had a chance to compare how three different cities operated. I’d lived here too long to want to pull up roots, so I decided to remake Angel Butte instead.”
That really made her laugh. Answering amusement in his eyes told her he at least recognized his hubris.
“Colin said you moved here about ten years ago?”
“Nearly eleven, now.” He hesitated. “I learned that my father was here. Hadn’t seen him since I was a kid, but for some reason I decided to look him up.”
She wondered if he really didn’t know why he’d felt the need to track down his father. Studying that rough-hewn face and the intelligence in his eyes, she thought, no, of course he knew.
“So you found him and stayed.”
Noah shook his head. “I never did find him. He’d disappeared.” His expression closed. “I guess he’d moved on.”
Cait didn’t believe in his outward indifference, but clearly he was done sharing confidences. She could take a hint.
They kept chatting, but more like the employer and employee they were. He asked that she attend the city council meeting the following Tuesday, told her about his second hire of the week, the new city recorder who’d be starting in June.
He paid, and as they walked out, wanted to know if she’d yet found a place to live.
Cait shook her head. “I haven’t even started to look. If you’ll recall, it was only yesterday you offered me the job.”
He gave her an odd glance. “I guess it was.”
It was a little silly that they had to get back in his big SUV for a whole two-block drive, but earlier he hadn’t suggested parking at the city hall/courthouse complex and walking back.
She looked straight ahead as he maneuvered out of the slot. “Did you have any suggestions? I mean, about where to live. I’ll have to rent for now.”
“I suppose you don’t want to stay at your brother’s.”
“No-o.” She drew that out. “He actually has an apartment above his garage. So I might stay there.” She liked the idea of having Colin close if Blake showed up in town. On the other hand... “I’m not sure I want to be accountable to him for my comings and goings.”
“It would be a little like moving back in with Mom and Dad,” Noah mused.
Cait rolled her eyes. “It might be worse.”
“Your brother the cop.” He was highly amused; she could tell. “I guess it might be.”
“Well.” She shook herself. “No hurry to decide.”
“There are some new town houses available for rent in a nice location,” he said after a minute. “I hear they’re decent.”
When she asked why he sounded grudging, he admitted they had been built by Earl Greig, who sat on the city council.
“One of the not-so-happy ones.”
“That would be him.” Noah’s tone was sardonic.
“Not-so-happy means they’re more likely to support you in making changes, doesn’t it?”
“In theory.” He made an indecipherable sound. “You should be welcome, at least.”
This was really out of line, but... “Earl doesn’t like you?”
“Earl can’t bring himself to forget that I used to wear my hair in a ponytail.”
Cait choked.
He flashed her a grin that was so devastating, he might as well have kissed her.
“Yeah, stubby little thing.” He reached up to his nape as if fingering hair that wasn’t there anymore. “Shocking, I know.”
Smiles like that—they were shocking. And, dear God help her, she had to pretend they had no effect on her at all.
“Lucky Earl doesn’t live in the big city,” she said.
“Earl is daily torn between his greed and disapproval of all newcomers as well as tourists. Makes his votes kind of chancy.”
He pulled into the parking slot reserved for the mayor, set the emergency brake and turned off the engine. Cait scrambled out, not wanting to take a chance he’d turn his head and gaze at her with that thoughtful look that made her wonder whether he saw straight through her.
She felt him glancing at her as they walked through the garage, but he didn’t say anything until they were on the elevator and it was rising, floor numbers pinging.
“I’ll let you have the afternoon to yourself,” he said, his tone distant as if he’d almost put her out of his mind already.
“Thank you for taking so much time for me,” she said formally when they reached her floor and the door slid open.
He dipped his head, a frown making his features harsher. Whether he looked after her as she exited, Cait had no idea. She didn’t dare glance back.
* * *
NOAH TRIED LIKE hell to stay away from his new director of community development for the rest of her first week of work. That didn’t mean he didn’t hear constant reports about her and have to field a couple dozen phone calls asking about her. It also didn’t mean he didn’t catch glimpses of her entirely too often. There was one day he swore he couldn’t step out of his office without seeing her hurrying down the hall or engaged in conversation in a doorway or walking out to her car.
Earl wasn’t real happy that a woman had been hired instead of a man, a hidebound attitude that didn’t surprise Noah at all. Noah listed her qualifications for possibly his most contentious city council member, who grumbled but went away. Beverly Buhl, chair of the Arts, Beautification and Culture Committee, called to burble her delight about how “forward-thinking” Ms. McAllister was.
“And charming,” she enthused, to which he growled agreement; something about his voice momentarily silenced her.
Taking Ms. Cait McAllister out to lunch had been his mistake, he concluded. He’d done fine up until then. Lunch might have been fine, too, if they’d stuck to business. Instead, they’d sounded each other out about their pasts, their likes and dislikes as if they were on a first date.
Damn it, she’d made him laugh!
He wanted to be grumpy because she didn’t dress professionally enough, but the truth was, she did. She went so far as to wear a suit the second day. Unfortunately, she never seemed to wear the kind of colors that would have allowed her to blend in. The suit was lemon-yellow, the skirt reached only midthigh and the jacket was short and fit snugly over very nice breasts and a slender torso. She even wore high heels in a matching shade of yellow. When he spotted her down the hall in that one, he was blitzed by the thought that she looked like a sexy ray of sunshine. Furious at himself, he blundered into the men’s room, stared at himself in the mirror with incredulity and took a piss when he’d rather have whacked his head against the wall.
Day three of her tenure, he almost walked into her as he was heading out midafternoon. Today she wore linen slacks and a thin sweater set the color of the ocean off Belize. He nodded; she offered a single, distracted smile and returned to conversation with her assistant director.
His mood darker, Noah stalked the several blocks to the public safety building for a meeting with Alec Raynor. As he was ready to go into the building, Cait’s brother happened to be coming out.
McAllister stopped, his eyes narrowed on Noah.
Since the one hostile scene back in March when Noah had admitted he had chosen not to hire McAllister for the head job, they had managed to hold semicivilized conversations; they had to, once McAllister made the decision to stay on as acting police chief and then captain of investigative services. Enmity was never far below the surface, though.
Today, McAllister stepped aside rather than continuing on his way.
Seeing no choice, Noah did likewise. If he were prone to regrets, he’d be sorry about the tension between them. But he did what he thought was best, and he didn’t allow himself second thoughts.
“Before the rumors hit,” McAllister said tersely, “I thought I’d tell you I’m running for county sheriff.”
Noah digested the announcement. The current sheriff was on a par with Mayor Linarelli, as far as Noah was concerned. In other words, lazy and very possibly crooked. “Interesting,” he mused. “Are you asking for my support?”
McAllister snorted. “That did not cross my mind.”
“It should have.” Noah was given to making decisions fast—as he’d done where his police captain’s sister was concerned. “You have it,” he said.
The other man stared at him. “Why?” he finally asked.
“We both know you’re good at your job. I think you have what it takes to clean up the sheriff’s department.”
“Just not Angel Butte P.D.”
“You know why I didn’t want to take a chance.”
McAllister gave a half laugh, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how badly I want to tell you where to shove your support?”
An involuntary grin twitched at Noah’s mouth. “I can guess.”
“Unfortunately, I’m too ambitious to actually do that.”
Noah thrust his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He waited while a cluster of women came out of the building, their heads turning at the sight of the mayor talking to Captain McAllister. To his credit, the guy had kept his animosity quiet, but there had to be talk anyway.
When they were out of earshot, Noah asked, “You and Raynor getting along okay?”
His expression veiled, McAllister shrugged. “Why wouldn’t we?”
Noah nodded, even though that was no answer. “Let me know when you want a statement from me.” He pushed his way inside and continued up to Alec Raynor’s office.
The new chief’s PA waved him in. “He’s expecting you.”
In fact, the door stood partially open. Talking on his phone, Raynor half sat on his desk, a foot braced on the floor. He glanced at Noah and lifted one finger. Noah nodded and wandered over to study a new painting on the wall.
It was disturbing, he decided, not the usual government-office pretty. Even he had gone for pretty in decorating his own office, figuring his role was to be a booster for the city and area in general. He’d bought local artists and photographers. This—he couldn’t imagine a local had done it.
From a distance he’d seen that it was some kind of street melee. Closer up, components broke into shards and you didn’t see the overall scene. Faces stood out, though they were far from realistic. No matter how simply these faces were constructed, though, anger and despair jumped out.
“The artist is a friend of mine,” Raynor said behind him.
“I was thinking that most of us go for decorative.”
Raynor’s laugh sounded like rusted gears grinding. A little like Noah’s own, he reflected. They had that in common.
Not looks, though. His new police chief was whipcord-lean and not much above average height. Five foot ten, maybe. He had dark hair and eyes as dark a brown as Noah had ever seen. By this time of day, he already needed a shave. During the interview in February, Noah had thought he looked Italian. Now, with the Southern California tan fading, the effect was diminished. Unless the guy took up skiing this coming year, he was going to turn pasty white like the rest of them who didn’t have the time or inclination for winter sports.
Raynor circled his desk and sank down in the big black leather chair. He looked weary. “I fired two officers today,” he said bluntly. “A sergeant on the patrol side and a detective who was one of our representatives to CODE.” CODE was the coalition of police agencies, including the DEA and FBI, that fought drug trafficking.
“Damn.” Noah lowered himself into a chair facing the desk. He’d known this was coming but hated to have his assumptions confirmed anyway. “Tip-offs to drug dealers?”
“That’s what it looks like. No question they took bribes. Maybe even offered guard service. Hard to be sure. We’re still working on who the money came from.” His eyes met Noah’s. “We’ve traced one payment for sure to the same source that paid off Bystrom.”
Gary Bystrom was the former police chief whose corruption had been uncovered almost by accident in McAllister’s investigation of a murder that had taken place in the city park the same night his now-wife, Maddie Dubeau, had been abducted when she was a teenager. Found along with the boy’s bones was a backpack that contained, among other things, a snapshot of the police chief shaking hands with a known drug dealer and a bank deposit slip for a hefty sum into his account. The Drug Enforcement Agency had mostly taken over digging into the source of those bribes, a real challenge. Raynor was stubbornly refusing to let go entirely of the investigation, with the result that the DEA agent in charge was kindly deigning to keep them informed. Noah and, he suspected, Colin McAllister in particular were getting damn frustrated by the snail’s pace of inquiries that left Bystrom free as a bird. Probably putting away his winter clothes right now and getting out his fly-fishing gear. The only consolation Noah could find was that, at the very least, the feds had him for tax evasion.
What they’d known all along was that he had to be getting tip-offs from officers in the department about police raids. McAllister had found the first two; these were the next to fall.
“It’s still only the beginning, I suspect.”
Noah grunted. He wanted to see some trials and prison cell doors clanging shut.
The dark eyes were direct. “You know most of the work on this was done by McAllister.”
“You’re asking why he isn’t sitting in your chair?” Noah rolled his shoulders and then told him.
“I think you misjudged him.” Raynor’s smile was razor-sharp and came and went swiftly. “To my benefit, of course.”
“Is it? I still don’t know why you wanted this job.”
Still eyeing him, his police chief ran a hand over his darkly shadowed jaw, maybe to give himself a moment. “I was looking for a peaceful town. Not for me.” He hesitated. “My brother was special forces, killed in Afghanistan. I’ve been stepping in to help his widow with their kids. The boy’s thirteen, gotten to a rebellious stage. L.A. wasn’t the place for him.”
“I didn’t know you’d brought family with you.”
“They’re not here yet. Took a while for Julia to sell her house.” He shrugged. “Now she’s waiting out the rest of the school year. They’re moving up here as soon as the kids are out the end of June.”
Noah was unexpectedly relieved to have the answer to the questions he’d asked himself. It was even one he could understand, although this was a big change of direction for a man to make for his sister-in-law and her kids.
“Are we as peaceful as you thought we’d be?” he asked.
Raynor gave a bark of laughter. “Sure. There’s only been one murder since I arrived, you know.” That had been a domestic. “Now, honesty, that’s another story.”
Noah laughed. “Okay,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “Keep me informed.”
Raynor stood, too, presumably from courtesy. “Will do.”
Noah left, thinking that the past hour had been exceptionally informative. Now all he asked was that he make it back to his office without so much as another glimpse of his new director of community development.
* * *
COLIN SET ASIDE the newspaper when he saw Cait come out of the guest bedroom. “You going out this evening?” he asked with deceptive casualness.
“City council meeting,” Cait reminded him.
“Oh, right.”
She grinned at his tone. “Isn’t there such a thing as a county council?”
“Don’t remind me.”
She gave him a saucy look. “You could come keep me company.”
“A fate worse than death.”
Chuckling, she twirled in a circle, arms outstretched. “Do I look all right? I want to dazzle ’em.” She didn’t mention who in particular she wanted to dazzle. The suit was one of her favorites, a deep rose she’d worn over a yellow shell. These were about her highest heels, too, saved for occasions like this when she wouldn’t be on her feet for eight hours.
Her brother did relax enough to smile. “Can’t fail,” he assured her.
“Good. Don’t wait up, I don’t know how late I’ll be.”
He frowned, rose to his feet and followed her to the door. “Why don’t you park right by the front porch when you get in instead of off to the side of the garage?”
“You let Nell park in the garage even though she has to scamper all the way across the yard when she gets in at night.” This was one of those evenings when Nell was working at the library in Sunriver until nine, which meant she didn’t get home until close to ten. Cait knew her brother didn’t like these evenings but had resigned himself.
“I listen for her,” he said simply.
Cait sighed. She liked his protective streak. She did. She just wasn’t sure she could live with it. Maybe cops were always like that with their own families, given what they saw on the job. She admired how patient Nell was with him, although, come to think of it, in her case it was only a few months ago that someone had tried to kill her.
Cait had a flash of memory: Blake smashing his booted foot into the fenders and doors of her small car, the screech of metal giving. His last, quiet words before he melted into the night.
I will never accept that you’re not mine.
She was careful to hide her shiver from Colin. She should hope he decided to wait up for her, too, so she didn’t have to be afraid when she let herself into the dark house tonight.
She hadn’t been in Angel Butte that long. How would Blake find out where she’d gone?
But she didn’t kid herself. Short of assuming a new identity, disappearing wasn’t possible in the modern world. Within the next few days, the city website would be updated with her name and bio. Blake might not even have had to wait for that. He’d met Colin; he knew where he lived.
He could show up anytime.
So, for now, she would be grateful for her brother’s watchful eye, Cait promised herself. She kissed his cheek and said, “I’ll park so close to the front steps you won’t be able to squeeze by in the morning yourself,” and hurried out the door to the sound of his chuckle.
The council had their own chamber in the city hall wing off the historic courthouse, she had discovered her first day during the whirlwind tour Noah conducted. She’d seen the agenda for tonight and knew there were no very exciting decisions facing them, so she wasn’t surprised to find the audience thin. Noah had a place at the raised semicircular table along with the nine council members. He wasn’t sitting yet, although he stood behind the table talking to a balding, potbellied man and a woman who looked to be in her forties and wearing a fire-engine-red suit Cait admired.
Either he was keeping an eye on all arrivals or watching for her, because his gaze flicked to her the minute she walked in. He’d been in the middle of saying something but stopped midsentence, seeming momentarily paralyzed by the sight of her.
Feeling unwarranted satisfaction at the idea that she’d dazzled him, Cait gave herself a stern talking-to. Repeat to self—I do not want a man, especially a man as overbearing as this one. Who so happens to be my boss.
Without looking at him again, she strolled up to the curved table and held out a hand to the city councilman at the end.
“Hi, I’m Cait McAllister, new in the Office of Community Development.”
Two hours later, she was struggling to hold on to her expression of eager, or even polite, interest. She had been introduced at the beginning and received with reasonable cordiality. From that point on, much of the discussion concerned possible alterations to the noise ordinance. The citizens who did appear mostly wanted to hog the microphone as they vented about a neighbor’s barking dog or teenagers who were apparently free to party until all hours almost nightly. Nobody showed up to say, “Screw the ordinance! I have a constitutional right to make all the racket I want!” A police captain named Brian Cooper droned on with statistics relating to noise violations and possible repercussions should the projected change be voted through. Cait couldn’t decide if he was really that boring or whether he was trying to put everyone to sleep. To prevent a vote? she wondered, momentarily amused. She’d have to ask Colin about him.
Cait found herself surreptitiously watching Mayor Chandler. Patience was not one of his virtues, it appeared. Expressions flowed across his face—disbelief and exasperation alternated with the expected boredom. He eventually started either making notes or doodling. Cait leaned toward the doodling explanation.
Once he lifted his head unexpectedly, and his eyes met hers. They stared at each other for long enough to excite comment if anyone had been paying attention. There was an openness in his eyes and, she was afraid, in hers, as if they hadn’t had time to shield themselves. Even so, she wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking. She discovered, when he suddenly turned his head, that she must have quit breathing. She hoped the gasp wasn’t obvious when she sucked in air.
She probably should have lingered when the meeting ended, but she couldn’t make herself.
Oh, God. I shouldn’t have taken this job, she realized as she fled. She couldn’t keep dodging Noah. She either had to get inured to him, or...she didn’t know.
Joining a cluster of five people who got on the elevator together, she pushed the button for the parking garage and watched as someone else did for the lobby. There was no conversation; everyone stared politely straight ahead.
She stood aside when the doors opened at the lobby. To her dismay, everyone but her got off. As the doors shut, she weighed the possibility of going back up and hovering until the next group was ready to depart. Nothing but the city council meeting had been happening tonight. The lot would be deserted.
But the doors were already opening, and she saw that the space was well lit. With relatively few cars left, there weren’t a lot of places for anyone to hide. Nonetheless, she reached in her purse for both her car keys and her pepper spray.
She walked confidently, heels striking on the cement floor. She had the passing thought that four-inch heels were not a good choice for a woman alone this late in the evening. Unless, of course, she took one off and used it as a weapon.
Picturing herself brandishing a pink high heel in self-defense almost made her smile.
No dark figures stepped out from between parked cars. She reached her Mazda unscathed and was dropping the pepper spray back into her purse when she saw the rear window. A lopsided heart speared by a huge arrow had been drawn on it in some kind of greasy red paint.
Shocked, she stopped, her gaze involuntarily surveying first her surroundings again, then the rest of her car. Dear God, what was that on the windshield? A crack? Or...?
She backed up, peeked around her car to be sure no one hid there, then took one slow step at a time until she could see what had happened to the windshield.
The same smeary red paint had been used to write in foot-tall letters:
MISS ME YET?
“Is something wrong?” a man asked from behind her.
