peered through the peephole and watched the policeman who had escorted her home disappear from sight down the heavy metal stairs. They’d searched her office building, taken her statement and Josh’s, and insisted the paramedics give her a once-over. When they were finally convinced her ankle was only twisted and she’d been allowed to leave, the police had discovered Wade had crawled out through the drop ceiling to the office next door and walked out the back. The whole evening took on a surreal quality colored by a heightened emotional hangover and fatigue.
She turned and pressed her back against the door, staring at the empty space of an apartment that suddenly felt larger than the White House. What if the guy she’d kicked in the face had followed her home? What if he knew where she lived and was already here waiting?
Her spine dug into the door as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She’d chosen this apartment because its third-floor location meant the door was the only way in. Now, alone in the dark, only one way in meant only one way out. She’d been all bravado in front of Josh, confident after bruising her attacker, but being alone now seemed to make the day’s events loom larger.
Josh. It had been years since she’d last seen him. He’d been her brother’s high school baseball teammate, her first really big crush. The times he’d allowed his senior self to hang around a freshman like her, she’d have thought he’d dropped to one knee and proposed with a six-carat solitaire.
Andrea rolled her eyes heavenward and let them slip shut. Lord Jesus, please don’t let him remember the way I gushed over him back then. That humiliation might be ten times worse than an attempted snatch and grab in her office lobby.
The feeling that unseen eyes watched her slowly dissipated as Andrea dropped the mail on the kitchen counter then marched through the apartment, flipping on lights and peeking in closets. Back in the kitchen, the neon of the microwave clock declared it to be nearly eleven. No wonder she was hungry enough to chew the linoleum like a puppy.
She dug a frozen chicken dinner out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave as a thought occurred to her. Puppies. Andrea had never been a dog person, but tonight it sure would be nice to have one. A dog would curl up beside her on the love seat and make her feel a little less alone. A dog would sound an alarm if someone tried to sneak in while sleep left her vulnerable.
Like sleep was going to happen anytime soon.
Every time she blinked, that giant of a man loomed in front of her. It wasn’t hard to imagine what it would be like when she turned off the lights and actually shut her eyes. He’d likely materialize in her room and try to steal her again.
And this time, there would be no Josh Walker to intervene.
He’d taken her number with a promise to call if anyone found Wade Cameron, but she seriously doubted there would be a call from him otherwise. He’d barely said a personal word to her all evening. Even all these years later, that dredged up vague disappointment.
The beep of the microwave drowned out her chuckle. Guess some dreams never really died. Especially not the ones dreamed over melting ice cream and soft drinks with giggly girlfriends on warm spring days at high school baseball fields. Of course, the other girls were giggling over her brother. Back then it had been disgusting but now, with the haze of time to soften the edges of her memory, she could see where they’d found Brendan interesting. If only...
The shaking started again, but this time it came from the inside out, from the sudden rush of emotion at her brother’s memory. The stainless-steel refrigerator door supported Andrea as she leaned back, trying to breathe through the internal assault. First the attack and now the memories. The army had taught her to keep a warrior’s fist on her emotions, to kick fear into the nearest Iraqi canal. If an ambush on her convoy in the desert couldn’t take her down, neither would a lone giant in her very own office.
With shaking hands, Andrea pulled the plastic tray from the microwave and grimaced at the contents, then dropped them into the trash. Peanut butter and jelly had to be better than this.
She was sloshing milk into a tall glass when her cell phone trilled. Nerves shook her hand and she stifled a groan as milk sloshed onto the mail she’d tossed to the counter earlier. Beautiful. It felt like the worst thing that could happen, the last nail in the coffin of a twisted day.
Andrea slammed the carton down and pinched the bridge of her nose. No way. She’d been through too much to morph into the girl who cried over spilled milk.
She snatched the phone from the counter and answered as she shoved envelopes away from the puddle of milk, streaking white across the dark stone. “Hello?” Her voice stretched as she reached for the towel hanging from the stove handle and mopped up the mess.
“Andrea?”
The deep timbre of the voice froze her hand in midswipe. Something about it made her heart take a side step, but it wasn’t fear this time. It might be worse.
Cold milk seeped through the towel to her fingers, jolting her from her thoughts. “Oh!” Envelopes flew across the stovetop as she flicked her wrist in dismissal. “I mean, yes. It’s me. Who is this?” Her mind wasn’t sure, but her heart didn’t have much doubt. Stupid memories.
There was a long pause from the other end of the line. “It’s Josh Walker.” His voice teetered slightly on the edge of uncertainty.
She’d just been wishing to hear his voice, just been wishing for the comfort of his presence. It was more than she’d thought it would be, washing a peace over her that defied description, the kind of peace she hadn’t felt since... There was no way to remember when.
Distraction. There had to be a way to get away from the emotions his voice conjured. Nestling the phone in the crook of her neck, she gripped the nearest envelope and tore the end open. Even a credit card offer would be better than acknowledging she hadn’t matured a whit since she was in high school. “Josh. How are you?” That was lame. She shook the envelope and let the contents slide into her hand, wishing life had a rewind button for moments like this.
Whatever Josh’s answer was, it was drowned out by the sudden buzz in her ears. Staring up at her from the top photo in her hand was her own face as she spoke to the homeless man who often dropped by the office. Words, written in red ink, were scrawled across the image. Stop what you’re doing. The image was taken through the scope of a rifle...and the crosshairs were centered on her forehead.
* * *
Josh’s mind flashed giant red lights. “What’s going on?” He sat up from where he’d flopped down on his couch as he’d dialed her number. Something had told him to call her. Had they found her? His feet hit the floor. “Did that guy—”
“No.” The word was tight, like she’d wrapped it in rubber bands.
Something definitely wasn’t right. “Talk to me, Andrea.”
“Give me a second!” It was a whip shot straight to his gut. Either she didn’t want to talk to him or very bad things were happening. Neither was good.
The silence nearly stretched on too long. “Someone sent me pictures.” Andrea’s voice held a measured control that did nothing to ease his mind. “Of me. At the counseling center. Two days ago.” The pause seemed to crackle with her tension. “Through a high-powered scope.”
Josh’s back teeth ground together. He would not let this happen. He’d failed to act the last time, and the consequences still haunted him. This time would be different.
