“Nope. Not when it comes to you.”
A tingly awareness moved through her, spreading out to the tips of her fingers. “I know the feeling.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She looked down at her desk and the big calendar she used to keep her schedule straight. She tracked her fingertip over the spot where she’d marked down the details of the charity brunch. She’d written it in hard, neat handwriting, indenting the paper. Angry writing. No, scared writing. She hadn’t even realized she’d done that. Everything else was in looping script. She’d been terrified from the start and all through that morning, until Wes had swept in and stolen her away from the whole thing. “And I forgot to say it before I left, but thanks for yesterday.”
“Thanks?” he scoffed, his incredulity echoing through the phone. “Rebecca, that’s the last thing you need to say to me.”
“I just mean for getting my mind off everything after the debacle at brunch yesterday morning. I was kind of a mess. You are…excellent at distraction.”
He was quiet for a moment, and she wondered if she’d said something wrong, but finally he cleared his throat. “I’m happy to distract you anytime, but know that if you ever want to talk about…anything, I’m here. Remember the friend portion of this arrangement. You don’t have to pretend that yesterday morning was about skipping breakfast.”
Her ribs cinched tight. “Wes—”
“I’m not saying you have to. I just wanted to put it out there. I’ve worked with these kids long enough that they’ve taught me a few valuable lessons, and one of them is being able to listen to the hard stuff.” His voice had gone quiet, tentative. “So I know we’re having fun and keeping things light, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be real with me. Don’t act like everything’s cool if it’s not.”
The truth welled up in her like a tidal wave, ready to bust through the levee and flood out. What would it feel like to tell someone? To tell all of it? What had really happened back then, what she’d seen these last few months, the tricks her mind had played on her. But she choked back the urge as quickly as it came. Yeah, that’d be a fun way to annihilate this new thing with Wes in one fell swoop. Hey there, Guy I Just Slept With, I’m a horrible person, and I might be seeing dead people. What time do you want to hang out tonight?
She forced an ease into her voice that she didn’t feel. “Thanks, Wes. I appreciate that. But it really was just a breakfast malfunction.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, but when he spoke again, his tone lacked the ease of earlier. “Okay, but for future reference, my offer stands.”
“Noted.”
His chair squeaked again, and he let out a breath. “So, see you around four?”
She drew an X over the Sunday square in her calendar, blocking out the brunch and trying to erase it from her mind. “That’s the plan.”
“Great. See you then.”
She hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache threatening. She didn’t want the ugly stuff to seep into this thing with Wes. He was her escape right now. She wanted to park him in a place in her life and put an impenetrable dome over it.
No past. No drama. No ghosts.
A firm knock on her door broke her from her thoughts.
Rebecca looked up, bracing herself for her father and the inevitable lecture about her behavior at the brunch, but her assistant, Marian, was in the open doorway with a grandmotherly smile instead. That smile was a diversionary tactic, though, because there was a shrewd look in her eye—her bat signal to Rebecca. Something was up.
Marian was like the ninja assassin of executive assistants beneath that sensible gray suit, which was why Rebecca had happily taken her on when Marian had come back to the firm after two years of retirement, declaring that being home with her husband all day was going to drive her to drinking. “Morning, Marian. What’s going on?”
“Your nine o’ clock is running late.” She leaned in deeper. “But two police officers just showed up, saying they wanted to talk to you. Do you have any idea what that’s about?”
Marian looked ready to defend her and give her an alibi if Rebecca was being accused of something.
Rebecca straightened. “Oh. I… Yes, please send them in. There was…an incident a few weeks ago.”
Wrinkles appeared around Marian’s mouth as her lips pinched together in concern. “An incident? Is everything okay?”
Rebecca waved a hand, trying to minimize the incident because the last thing she needed was her mugging getting around the office gossip chain and back to her father. “Yes, I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal, but please let them in.”
“Of course.” Marian slipped out of the doorway, and Rebecca could hear her down the hall. “Right this way, officers. Ms. Lindt is ready for you.”
Two cops in plainclothes with badges on their hips walked in, and Rebecca stepped around her desk to greet them and shake hands. The younger Hispanic woman, Detective Flores, was the one who’d called and asked some questions the day after the mugging. The other one, an African American man with graying temples, Detective Montgomery, was in charge of the case.
“Thank you for seeing us, Ms. Lindt,” he said, giving her hand a firm shake. “I know you’re busy, but we had some new information that we wanted to run by you.”
“Of course,” Rebecca said, shutting the door behind them and inviting them to take a seat. “Would you like some coffee?”