Читать книгу The Baby He Wanted - Janice Kay Johnson - Страница 10
ОглавлениеWITH ONLY A week to go until Christmas, Lina Jurick felt exceptionally unfestive. Her parents weren’t very happy that she wasn’t flying home for the holidays, but pretending to be joyous was beyond her.
It wasn’t like she was hiding anything from them. Well, not hiding very much anyway. Once she’d made the decision to carry the baby to term, she’d told them she was pregnant. The only part she’d refused to talk about was the identity of the father. She didn’t want to think about Bran “short for Brandon” Murphy, who might or might not be married.
After she’d fled, it had occurred to her that he could have gone to the tavern for the same reason she had: he was bummed. Say, because his wedding had been canceled.
That idea was slightly more palatable than the alternative, that she was a last hurrah. But not a whole lot. If his bride-to-be had stood him up right before the wedding, what did that make her, Lina? Some kind of hey-she’s-available fill-in? All cats were gray in the dark, right? And in the morning, when it wasn’t dark anymore, he’d had her from behind and never had to look at her face. If he hadn’t gotten any sex on what should have been his wedding night, he’d certainly had plenty the night before.
Occasionally she let herself wonder if it had occurred to him he hadn’t used a condom that last time. But, really, what difference did it make whether he’d just forgotten or made the decision to wake up the way he liked even though he couldn’t protect her? The result was the same.
At least the morning sickness phase was long past. These days, all she had to combat was exhaustion. She needed to go to bed way earlier than normal if she was going to feel anything close to human when her alarm clock went off in the mornings. And, just her luck, middle school kids rode the same buses as high school kids, tying them to a similar schedule. No, worse: her first class was at the obscene hour of seven thirty. High school teachers were able to sleep in ten minutes later.
Today, she should count her blessings. With two weeks off for the holidays, she could sleep as much as she wanted. Catch up on sleep. Store it. If she could think of anything fun to do, she was free for that, too. Wild and crazy? Not a chance. She’d used up her quota the night she got pregnant.
She could take a nap after lunch, then go for a swim later.
A nap and exercise. As a way to spend her first day of vacation, it was such a thriller, even she was depressed. Maybe Maya could get away to have lunch with her.
Maya answered her call, muted the phone for a minute and came back to say, “Yes, please.” She lowered her voice. “Mr. Floyd is driving me nuts. Must get out of here.”
Lina changed from her sweats into maternity jeans and a warm sweater with enough stretch to cover her burgeoning belly and put on boots because they zipped and were less work than bending over to tie laces.
Her mood lifted during the short drive to the bank branch where Maya worked as a loan officer. Once she reached it, she idled briefly out front. Mr. Floyd, the branch manager, discouraged the use of the parking lot for friends and family. If she’d been absolutely determined, she could have squeezed her Kia into a minuscule spot behind a van, but she made a face and decided to skip it. Parking on the cross street made sense anyway; she could pick up a couple of things at the Walgreens on the other corner once she and Maya were back from lunch.
She locked up and walked past the drive-through and the ATM to the front doors, but when she tried to open one, she couldn’t. They were locked. What on earth—
Belatedly, she focused on the printed sign plastered to the glass: “Temporarily Closed—Computer Network Issues. We Regret the Inconvenience.”
How strange. Maya hadn’t said anything, so whatever it was must have just happened. Lina peered in and couldn’t see a soul, teller or customer, which wasn’t a big shock since this bank had a conference room to the right just inside and restrooms to the left. The only other windows looked in at the currently empty conference room. Past the short hallway, a second set of doors led into the bank proper, and what view she would otherwise have had was partially blocked by one of those standing height desks where you could write a check or fill out a deposit slip before getting in line. From this angle, she could only see one teller window, with no one behind it.
Presumably, IT people were working frantically. Maybe everyone else was gratefully having a cup of coffee, or Mr. Floyd had decided to hold an impromptu staff meeting to be sure nobody was allowed to waste time. Sounded like him.
Still, Maya was entitled to her lunch break. She would surely have called or at least texted to say she was delayed. And, would they really lock the doors instead of letting customers come in for an explanation of the problem?
As Lina backed away from the doors, pondering, she took out her phone. No messages, no texts.
Darn it, people had to be inside. Driving past the parking lot, she’d noticed Mr. Floyd’s dark gray BMW in its place of honor as well as a couple of other cars. Although those might belong to the IT people rather than customers.
Call Maya, she decided.
But her friend didn’t answer her cell phone. Lina didn’t leave a message.
Increasingly uneasy, she tried to decide what to do. She could wait in her car for a few minutes and then try again. Go to Walgreens and assume Maya would call when she was ready to leave. But the weirdness of this had her alarmed.
The back door was not only always kept locked, it was also steel and windowless. The only other place she could really see into the bank was the drive-through window, assuming they hadn’t pulled down the shade. No cars had gone in or come out since she’d arrived. Why couldn’t she use it as a walk-through to bring somebody to talk to her even if only to say, “Yes, we really are closed.”
She went back the way she’d come and circled the corner of the building. Feeling almost as though she ought to be tiptoeing, she approached the double drive-through with the center island. Then she saw the explanation for the lack of traffic: a sandwich board blocked the entrance to the drive-through. She presumed the same sign was tacked to the other side.
Not understanding her trepidation, Lina inched up to the window.
The shades hadn’t been pulled, but she still couldn’t see anyone. Aliens had beamed everyone in the bank up to their spaceship. IT guys had taken employees hostage until they fully understood the hideous mistake someone had made that had frozen up the bank’s computers.
Only...shouldn’t someone be laboring on one of the computers? Unless the problem was off-site, but if that was so, why wasn’t Maya answering her phone and where was everybody?
Lina’s skin prickled. She shifted a few feet to the left and with a rush of relief saw four people standing in a cluster. Mr. Floyd and Maya and two men. Okay, she’d been silly—except...one of the men held a gun to Maya’s temple.
Oh, God, oh, God. This was a bank robbery, happening right in front of her. Without taking her eyes off the scene inside, Lina fumbled for her phone at the bottom of her purse.
The bank manager shook his head. He looked scared but mulish. At the same time, Maya saw Lina with her face pressed to the glass. Her eyes widened, the terror on her face changing to something else.
The next second, her head blew up.
And then the man who’d shot Lina’s best friend turned and saw her.
* * *
LEANING BACK IN his desk chair, Bran unwrapped the sandwich he’d just picked up from the deli. He didn’t love eating at his desk, but he was trying to cram some work in so he could leave early. He had an appointment to talk to a woman who had been a neighbor of his family when he was a kid. She and her husband had lived right across the street when Bran’s little sister, Sheila, was murdered. Apparently Mr. Greaver had died a few years back, but his widow had stayed put. Bran and his brother, Zach, both cops, were trying to get in touch with everyone who’d lived nearby then. Sheila’s killer had never been arrested. Despite having no jurisdiction, they intended to accomplish what the investigators at the time had failed to do.
So far, they’d only hit dead ends, but there’d been something in Mrs. Greaver’s voice when Bran had talked to her yesterday—
The door behind him burst open.
“Murphy,” his lieutenant snapped. “Warring. Where the hell is Warring?”
Bran spun in his desk chair, surprised by the edge in his boss’s usually rock-steady voice. “Break room, to get a drink from the machine. What’s wrong?”
“Armed robbery at Snoqualmie Community Bank. First responders are on the way. I want you and Warring on it. The caller says she saw a loan officer shot in the head. If they’re still in there...”
Bran tossed the sandwich on the desk and jumped to his feet. “How did somebody manage to call out?”
“She didn’t. She couldn’t understand why the doors were locked midday, so she looked in the drive-through window.”
“Where is she now?”
“The Walgreens across the street.”
“We’re on our way.”
He caught Charlie Warring just as he emerged from the break room carrying a can of Pepsi. Seconds later, they jumped into an unmarked sheriff’s car and rocketed out of the parking lot, Charlie still groping for the seat belt as he tried to keep from spilling his drink.
“What the hell?”
Bran told him what he knew. During the drive, they both listened to the chatter on the radio. By the time they screeched to a halt outside the bank, they knew that the robbers had been gone when the first deputies arrived. An ambulance rolled up behind them. Two patrol cars with flashing lights were outside.
Charlie and Bran walked in to find the expected chaos. The uniforms had corralled customers and employees in one area, where two women sobbed and everyone else appeared distraught. One of the deputies saw Bran and jerked his head toward the counter that normally separated tellers from customers.
He stopped at a swinging half door. On the other side, two bodies sprawled on the carpeted floor. It wasn’t instantly obvious how the man in the suit had been killed, although blood soaked the carpet to one side of him. The woman’s body was another story. Blood, brains and bits of bone spattered the wall beyond her. The information had been accurate; no question, somebody had shot her in the head, and from close range.
“Jesus,” Charlie murmured. “I bank here. I think she’s the loan officer. Pretty.”
She wasn’t pretty anymore.
Bran pointed to the pile of cell phones, which suggested the robbers had had some foresight. They’d made sure no one texted out or snapped a photo of them.
Another uniform approached. Despite his attempt at stoicism, he appeared shaken. “My partner and I were the first responders. I hope the lady who called this in saw something, because nobody else did. They all agree that two masked men shoved through the doors yelling and waving guns. Customers and tellers were herded behind the counter and made to sit on the floor, facing the far wall—” he nodded in that direction “—and told to clasp their hands on their heads. They could hear what went on, but didn’t see anything. I didn’t even ask questions, and they started to babble. They tried to be helpful, but they all had different estimates of height, weight, race...” He shook his head. “Don’t think you’ll get a lot of help there.”
“Thanks,” Bran said.
Charlie offered to get things started there while Bran went looking for the witness who’d called 911. Charlie Warring was about Bran’s age. With any other detective in the department, Bran would have refused, but he and Charlie had developed a trust.
“You suppose the lieutenant has already notified the FBI?” Charlie asked.
“Undoubtedly,” Bran said with resignation. He’d never worked with the feds before, but he’d have his chance now. They were all over any bank robbery.
He found the pharmacy doors locked. A man peered at him from a distance away. When Bran held his badge up to the glass, relief appeared on the man’s face and he hurried to let him in. With a nod toward the back, he said, “The lady who saw what happened is with the manager. Should I keep the door locked?”
“No need now. The robbers are long gone. But locking up was smart.”
Bran took a moment to determine that no customers had been present when the witness came tearing in. Then he strode down an aisle and, at the back of the store, found an unlocked door marked “Employees Only.” Past a restroom and what appeared to be a break room was an office. He knocked and identified himself as police.
A woman called, “Come in.”
There were two women inside, one with her back to him, the other behind the desk. She rose to her feet at the sight of him. From the nice suit, he guessed she was the store manager. “I’m Laverne Dailey,” she said.
“Detective Bran Murphy.”
“Are the robbers still in the bank?” she asked.
“No, they were gone by the time the first unit arrived. I can assure you we’ll do everything in our power to identify and arrest them.” He heard the coldness in his voice.
The sight of those bodies had hit him harder than usual, maybe because of the location and the identity of the victims. This wasn’t a domestic, or the fallout from a bar brawl. The dead weren’t drug dealers or gang members. The bank was the kind of business where people expected to be safe. To the best of his knowledge, there’d never been a bank robbery in this county. And bank robbers didn’t usually kill.
“A uniformed officer will be stopping by to ask some questions, just in case an employee noticed activity by the bank.”
During his speech, the woman sitting with her back to him hadn’t turned around. In fact, she hadn’t given any sign she’d even noticed his arrival. She hunched over, her arms crossed as if she was hugging herself. Traumatized, and why wouldn’t she be?
Honey-colored hair was bundled on the back of her head. His gaze fastened on it. Some people’s hair was all one color. Hers had threads of pale gold, brown and red amongst the predominant dark blonde. He bet if he studied it long enough, he’d identify a dozen or more colors that together added up to a gorgeous, heavy mass of hair that...he knew.
No. It couldn’t be.
He grabbed the second chair in front of the desk, pulled it to face hers and sat down. “Miss—”
She looked up and his mouth went dry. The woman who had haunted his dreams for months looked at him with red-rimmed, puffy eyes.
“You,” she said flatly.
So she had recognized his voice. Bran let his gaze move over her, and what he saw made his heart stop beating.
She was pregnant. The curve of her belly was unmistakable. Bran wasn’t an expert on pregnancy, but she had to be past the first three months or so, when women didn’t much show. She wasn’t swollen so big he’d worry about her going into labor right now, either. If he had to guess—
Jesus. If he had to guess, he’d put her at five or six months.
Six months ago, almost to the day, he’d made love to her without using a condom. He’d worried about that for a long time, even as remembering what it felt like to have her without the irritating barrier of latex heated his blood.
When he lifted his stunned gaze to her face, he found wariness had joined the grief and myriad of other emotions already there. Bran opened his mouth but had just enough self-control to close it before he said the obvious. Did you plan to tell me? Later, when they were alone, he’d be asking that question. Right now, he had a job to do. And she’d seen something horrific enough, he wasn’t about to kick her when she was down.
“Ms. Dailey, may we borrow your office or the break room?”
The manager understood what he was asking. “Please, stay here,” she said, coming around the desk. “Lina, are you sure I can’t get you a drink?”
“That’s a good idea,” Bran said. “Something with sugar. She’s in shock.”
“I don’t need—” Lina’s brief defiance collapsed. “Thank you. But no caffeine, please.”
Laverne Dailey squeezed her shoulder. “Of course not.”
Lina and Bran sat in silence until the manager returned with a 7Up. Bran cracked it open and handed it to Lina. “Drink. The sugar will steady you.”
After a moment, she nodded. The door closed quietly behind Ms. Dailey.
Lina took a swallow, but her hand was shaking, so he took the can from her and set it on the desk. “I need your full name,” he said, wincing at how stiffly that came out.
He read the desperation in her eyes. “I wasn’t imagining things, was I? Maya is dead.”
“I’m afraid so. Maya...?”
“Lee. She is...she was a loan officer. And my best friend,” she whispered, desolate.
Battling the need to draw her into his arms, he said, “I’m sorry for your loss, and that you had to see something so terrible.”
She sucked in a breath. “Jurick.” She spelled it. “That’s my last name. I’m Alina Jurick.”
“You live locally, I take it.” He couldn’t help the wryness in his tone.
Her eyes slid away before meeting his again. “Yes. I live in Clear Creek and teach at the middle school.”
“What do you teach, Lina?”
“Social studies.”
Bran only vaguely recalled his long-ago middle school classes. Social studies had been a mishmash of history and government, maybe a little anthropology and archaeology thrown in. He’d have liked to ask more, like why she had chosen to work with kids that age, but made himself stay on topic.
“Okay. You came to do some banking.”
She shook her head. “No, Maya and I were going to have lunch. I talked to her about fifteen minutes before I arrived. I parked on the street instead of in the lot, because her boss doesn’t even let employees park there, never mind friends.”
He heard about her perplexity when she found the doors locked in the middle of the day, and resisted asking why the hell she hadn’t called the cops right then.
“It was the sign,” she said.
“Sign?”
“It was taped to one of the doors.” She told him what it said.
“It’s not there anymore. Which means they grabbed it on the way out.”
“I think there was another one at the head of the drive-through. If they were in a hurry, they might have left that one.”
“Good,” he said. “Give me a second.”
Charlie answered immediately and promised to send someone out to check.
Bran returned his phone to his belt.
“It did seem strange,” Lina said. “But...normal strange. You know what I mean? I sort of knew something was wrong. But, um, there’s this feeling of unreality. Who expects something like...” She wobbled to a stop, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
Bran lunged out of his chair and grabbed the wastebasket, putting it in front of her. She bent over and retched. When she seemed done, he found tissues on a credenza and gave her a handful, then urged her to sip more of the soda. At some point in there, he’d come to be crouched beside her, rubbing her back.
The look she gave him held such misery, he said, “Oh, hell, Lina,” and rose, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. For a moment she stood stiff. He was about to release her when she made a muffled sound, leaned on him and seemed to go boneless. They stood like that for a long time. Inhaling her scent, he cradled the back of her head with one hand while he held her up with his other arm.
The hard mound of her belly felt odd wedged between them. It was like a purse or a—no, not a basketball—a soccer ball. Maybe one of those kid-size ones. Then he had the dazed thought that what he felt between them wasn’t kid-size—it was a kid. A whole, complete person in the making.
That this particular baby might be his was something he couldn’t let himself think about, not yet.
Once he would have sworn her belly quivered, but probably all of her had.
Finally, she sighed and didn’t so much ease back as collapse onto the chair. “I’m sorry. You must have more important things to do than wait while I freak out. I guess you need to hear what I saw, don’t you?”
“I do, but you don’t have anything to be sorry for. Anybody would have been shaken up.”
He didn’t recall ever being reluctant to push a witness to tell her story like this before. Bran hoped he was a compassionate man, but softer emotions weren’t in his repertoire.
“I couldn’t see anyone else. There had to be tellers in there.”
She didn’t want to ask whether they were dead, too, he guessed.
Bran resumed his seat. “Two tellers, two customers. The robbers made them sit on the floor behind the counter, hands on their heads, facing away from the confrontation you saw. They’re shaken up, but not hurt.”
She gave a jerky nod, then continued, telling him she hadn’t really looked at one of the two men, but she knew he’d worn a ski mask. “So I couldn’t have seen his face anyway. I think he was shorter than the other robber. Mr. Floyd—that’s the bank manager—isn’t tall. Like five foot eight? They were about the same height. He was thin. He had a gun, too.”
This he, Bran supposed, was bank robber number two, not Mr. Floyd. “Was he facing you?”
“No, he was mostly turned away. I think he was threatening Mr. Floyd, who was refusing to do something.” Her beautiful eyes widened. “Mr. Floyd...was he hurt?”
“I don’t have identities yet, but a man was killed as well as your friend.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered. Her knuckles showed white as she wrung her hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling helpless. “Saying no to armed men threatening him wasn’t very smart.”
“No.” Lina was quiet for a minute. “Maya didn’t like him. I don’t think any of the employees did. He was really full of himself, and sanctimonious. You know? It would be just like him to think he could stand up to those men because he was important and principled and of course they’d back down.”
In other words, the guy was both a prick and an idiot.
He watched Lina collect herself. “The other one, he had the barrel of his gun pressed to Maya’s temple. She looked so scared.” She swallowed. “Maya saw me.”
“What?”
“I think she kind of jerked and—” Lina did some deep breathing “—he shot her. Her head just...”
Bran covered her writhing hands with one of his. “Try to step back, as if it was a movie and not real. Did the guy pull the trigger because he was startled? Or do you think he’d been ordered to kill her?”
She stared at him, but he could tell she was replaying what she’d seen. “I think Mr. Floyd had been told that if he didn’t cooperate, they’d kill Maya. And he wouldn’t, so they did.”
“That’s what I think, too,” Bran said gently. “Her seeing you had nothing to do with her death.”
“Yes, but—” She gulped. “He shot her and then he turned. He saw me.”
Bran’s blood ran cold.
She shuddered. “And...and I saw him.”
“He wasn’t wearing a mask?”
She shook her head. “Why would he let anyone see his face?” she begged.
He didn’t know. They must have known law enforcement would be watching the robbery within half an hour. Banks all had cameras.
“He couldn’t shoot you through the teller’s window,” Bran said slowly. “They’re bullet-proof.”
“I don’t know if he even came to the window. I ducked, really fast. And then I ran straight across the drive-through lanes and the side street instead of going to my car or...or to the alley to try to hide. In case he burst out the front or back door.”
“That was smart.” He fought to hide the rage and fear that made it hard to breathe. “Lina, did you recognize him?”
She shook her head, but some crinkles formed on her forehead. “Not really, although...he looked sort of familiar. Do you know what I mean?” she appealed to him. “He might just have had an ordinary face, but it’s like, oh, if you see someone out of context and can’t place them. They’re a stranger, but not.”
“Like a grocery checker you notice at the next table when you’re eating out.”
“Exactly like that,” she said gratefully. “But it was such a quick glimpse...”
“If his face doesn’t show up clearly on video, we’ll have you sit down with a police artist. However briefly you saw the man, I’m betting the artist and you can come up with a portrait.”
She looked doubtful, but said, “I’ll try.”
“What worries me is that he saw you, Lina. You’re memorable, not ordinary.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. I had no trouble recognizing you.” If he sounded a little dry, who could blame him?
“Yes, but you and I—” Color rose in her cheeks. “We...”
He knew what they’d done.
“I mean, we spent quite a while together. Talking and...”
Yep. And. They’d done a lot of that, too.
Blushing furiously, she said, “The other people in there must have seen something. And...and they’d have heard what was said.”
“If we get anything useful from those who were in the bank, I’ll worry less about you. From what I heard before I came over here, I’m not optimistic. It’s also possible he’d just pulled the mask off when you saw him.”
She stared at him, stricken. “If he did...that means he was going to kill Maya either way, doesn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so” was the best he could do. The video could be grainy; the guy’s face might be caught at an angle so that distinguishing features weren’t clear. Or no camera had pointed the right way to capture his image at the moment he’d been unmasked. But her friend had had a close look at him.
“Oh, God.” She hugged herself again.
Very aware of the passing minutes, Bran said, “Lina, I have to get back to the bank. You and I need to talk, but we’ll save that for later. I’m only going to ask one thing right now. Is that baby you’re carrying mine?”
She seemed to shrink into herself, making him feel like a bastard, but he had to know. After a minute, her head bobbed. “Yes.”
Damn. It was like seeing someone running out in front of his car, knowing he would never be able to brake in time. His vision had sharpened and time slowed, but his reactions had slowed, too.
He could only nod. “All right.” Really? It was all hunky-dory? No problemo?
Do your job. “Lina, I won’t be able to get away for hours. I don’t want you to go home until we know more, in case the guy did recognize you. Do you have family close by? Or a friend who will let you spend the night if necessary?”
She stared at him. “But... I don’t have anything with me. Except my purse.” Looking more like a satchel, it sat by her feet.
“As soon as I break free, I’ll come get you. Then we’ll figure out what to do. But if you’re the only one who saw his face and this guy by any chance did know you, he can’t afford to let you identify him. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her face so white he was afraid she might keel over. But her back stayed rigid. “Yes. I saw what he’s willing to do.”
Damn. She had.
“Tell me where you’ll be.”
“Let me make a call.” She dug in the bag for her phone, and a moment later was talking to someone. She finished by saying, “I’ll tell you all about it when I get there. Thank you, Isabel.” The call ended. She told him the friend’s name and address.
He took her phone from her and added his number to her contacts, then put hers in his phone. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
They both thanked the manager on the way out. As they crossed the street, Bran said, “I’m going to have you take a look at the parking lot. Do you remember what vehicles were here when you arrived?”
“Yes.” They walked past the bank so she could see the lot. “Those are the same cars that were here then.”
“Okay. Where did your friend park?”
“I noticed it on Maple.” That was the street they’d just crossed. My car is only half a block from hers.”
“Is that why you parked where you did?”
“No, there wasn’t any room in front of the bank.” She saw something on his face. “They didn’t park in the lot, did they?”
“No, they’d have gotten as close to the front door as they could. Preferably blocking any view of the bank from passing traffic.”
“Close to the front...there was a gold Camry. I noticed it because my parents have one like it. And a cargo van. My car is really small, so I could have squeezed in between the van and the Camry, but I’m not very good at parallel parking and it would have been tight.”
“Okay,” he said, keeping his tone relaxed. He didn’t want her to freeze up. “Describe the van to me.”
“It was white, with panels instead of windows along the side. On the back, too, I’m pretty sure. I remember thinking I wouldn’t like having to rely totally on mirrors.”
“Was there a company name on the side or the door? A decal of any kind? A bumper sticker?”
But she was shaking her head. “Nothing. I doubt I’d have noticed a bumper sticker. I mean, I barely glanced at the back of the van when I was thinking of trying to squeeze in behind it.”
“I don’t suppose you noticed the license plate.”
“Not a chance.” She hesitated. “I guess it might have caught my eye if it had been an out-of-state license or a custom one.”
That was his guess, too, given how extraordinarily observant she had proved herself to be.
With a hand on her arm, he nudged her into movement again. “Getting away was the smart thing for you to do. You had no reason to focus on the van.”
Cops clustered outside the bank’s front door. The medical examiner was just going in. Bran nodded at him.
“Which car is yours?” he asked Lina, looking to the cross street.
“The Kia.”
He had her point out her friend’s, too, before asking, “You feel steady enough to drive?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. Anyway, it’s not that far to Isabel’s.”
He insisted on walking her to her peanut of a car and watched as she wedged herself behind the wheel and adjusted and fastened the seat belt. How in hell did women who were eight months pregnant still reach the pedals?
Shaking the thought off, he waited until she had closed the door and then rolled down the window to look up at him.
“Okay,” he said. “Keep an eye out behind you on the way. If any other vehicle seems to be sticking with you, I want you to come right back here. Call me, too. Don’t wait until you get here. Do you understand?”
Lina bit her lip but nodded.
“And call if you remember anything else you think I should know.”
“I will.”
“If it looks like I won’t make it before bedtime, I’ll let you know. This Isabel understands you might have to stay, right?”
“Yes. She teaches at the middle school, too. We’ve gotten to be good friends.”
One hand flat on the roof of her car, Bran looked down at her. “I’d suggest you have a glass of wine, but I guess you can’t do that.”
She actually tried to smile. “Probably one glass wouldn’t hurt anything, but I made a no-alcohol, no-caffeine vow once I realized I was pregnant.”
“You don’t smoke, do you?”
“No. I never have. And I wouldn’t.”
Feeling foolish, he nodded. “I’ll call, Lina.”
Without another word, she pushed a button so her window glided up and put on her turn signal before pulling out onto the street. Afraid she’d get a ticket if she didn’t? No, he thought; Lina Jurick was a law-abiding citizen. A good girl, who had done something very uncharacteristic the night she’d gone to a cheap motel with him.
Standing where he was for longer than he should have, watching until the little Kia turned out of sight three blocks away, he wondered if his promise to call had sounded reassuring to her, or whether she’d taken it as a threat.
He swore under his breath. Would she ever have told him about the baby if they hadn’t come face-to-face? Part of him was scared shitless. And part of him...he didn’t know...and couldn’t take the time to untangle it all.
Bran turned and walked into the bank.
