Everywhere She Goes. Janice Kay Johnson

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

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