“With the car change, and you at my place, it’s possible that whoever is after you hasn’t been able to find you. They could be staking out your house.”
Fear went through her. And exited, too. Fine. “Let them come at me,” she said. “At this point, I’d rather ferret them out than be in hiding. No offense, I’m...um...k
ind of enjoying my little bit of time with you...” How could she not say that, when in just a few hours they were going to be naked? She really was starting to believe there might be something between them that was going to make her feel blissful. Just thinking about him naked was doing things to her that Fritz’s body had never done. Naked or otherwise...
“But this is also like being in prison.” She got around to finishing her statement. “A lot nicer prison, but still, imprisoned.”
Although, being locked up with him in the room, doing things to her, was a possibility she was eager to explore. For one night only.
“I have to get home,” she told him. “I have to figure out who I’m going to become. And how I’m going to get there. I’m thirty-eight, not twenty. I don’t have time to waste.” And she couldn’t get it wrong, either. She’d wasted a good part of eighteen years, building something that had been nothing.
He was taking a long route. Crossing back and forth across main thoroughfares. She knew what he was doing. Making sure they weren’t followed. And checking out the entire area before he actually took her to the one place the killer knew was associated with her.
Everything she owned was there. She had to go back sometime.
“Why not start a salon?” he asked, watching the area around them as he turned closer to her neighborhood. “You said you wanted to. You’ve already got the real estate. It’s in a great location. And you said you’re coming into some money...”
Way more than she’d need to remodel the gym. Some of the spa stuff she’d want—the tanning bed, the massage room—were already there. She was the one responsible for their presence, actually. They’d been her idea and she’d worked with the contractor to get it done.
The changing rooms were up front and could easily be renovated into stylist stations. The electric and plumbing were already there. The cement floor could be painted. She’d need padded floor mats for the stylists to stand on all day, to protect their legs and backs...
Her phone pinged: a text message. Probably her mother. She’d already called twice, and texted, too. Other than one call that morning, Everleigh had ignored the rest. She’d thought the party was lovely. She’d told her mother so. And that she loved her.
Her mother was seeking immediate forgiveness. She wanted things to be back the way they’d been. That wasn’t going to happen. And Everleigh needed time to figure out the rest.
But, because it was her mother, and because Everleigh loved her, she glanced at her phone. And frowned.
“What?” Clarke’s tone was urgent. Sharp.
With a glance in his direction, she said, “I don’t recognize the number.” And then felt the blood drain from her as she opened the message.
If you want to live, disappear now. Leave the state. Forever.
She tried to read it to him. Her throat was too dry, and she coughed instead.
He took the phone. Read the message. And, tires squealing, immediately wheeled around.
* * *
Back at his condo, Clarke had locked all the doors and windows. A series of officers patrolled the block as part of their nightly run. Everleigh hadn’t argued at all when he’d nixed the visit to her place. She hadn’t put up any fuss with any of the decisions he’d made since the threatening text had come through on her phone.
To the contrary, she’d been more subdued than he’d seen her yet.
Leaving him with a stringent need to make things better for her.
He’d called Melissa as soon as he’d seen the text. Ellie had confirmed what he’d already suspected; the number had come from a disposable burner phone, maybe even purchased right there in Grave Gulch. Officers were out questioning all establishments that sold burner phones in the past week, hoping that something would pop. They’d already vetted the third woman on his list of Fritz Emerson’s lovers. She had admitted to having an affair with Fritz a few years before, had provided airtight alibis for the past week and the time of Fritz’s murder, and was married with a baby on the way.
He had a client in dire danger and no suspects.
He also had planned a night of passion—which he couldn’t keep—with a woman he had the hots for. And he couldn’t leave his condominium...
The only way out was to find Fritz Emerson’s killer before he did something he’d regret with the man’s sweet widow. He made phone calls. Searched databases. Had Fritz’s gym records sent over and started poring over them. Somewhere someone had missed something, and his job was to find it.
And then he had to get on to helping find Len Davison and Randall Bowe. He had to help Grave Gulch PD and his family get their house back in order.
And maybe find a woman to hang with for a minute or two while he got over Everleigh Emerson.
She’d heated up lasagna for dinner. Brought a plate in to him. He didn’t offer to come out and eat with her. Or invite her to stay.