from the kitchen of her restaurant.
“You haven’t seen the news tonight?”
“No way in this mad house. You’ll have to fill us in. But I wanted to let you know that we’re set up in the private dining room, and Sam’s here already, chomping at the bit.”
Hallie worked the high-heeled pump off her right foot and massaged her instep. A soft groan left her lips. “You’ll have to get started without me.”
“Pleeease don’t tell me you’re not coming. It’s so important to—”
“What? You want me to break tradition and be on time? I just need to change clothes and freshen up.”
“No problem. If it seals the deal, I made tomato and portabella quiche in pepper pots.”
“Woman, don’t bother to bar the door, I’m busting in.”
They broke the connection, laughing. Hallie pocketed her phone. Maybe getting out would do her good.
She rode the elevator up to the third floor. Her hallway was empty but the muted strings and woodwinds of classical music drifted out from her neighbor’s apartment. Stepping inside her unit, the scent from her blooming frangipani plant greeted her. The fluffy throw pillows on her tan-and-olive couch beckoned, but she breezed past into her small bedroom, where she changed into jeans and a blouse and comfy cross-trainers for her feet. In the bathroom, she took out the enameled pins that kept her dark hair away from her face for work and ran a comb through the thick strands. The shag cut feathered around her forehead, cheeks and jaw, before falling in tousled waves below her shoulders. Good enough. Teasing with the brush, curling iron and hair spray sounded like too much work. After all, it was just the girls tonight.
Twenty minutes later, she was on the interstate heading south toward Jenna’s restaurant in Lakeville. She turned up the CD player. Belting out a few praise songs with Point of Grace should keep images of death out of her head. The Highway 42 exit came up as the third song was finishing. She glided off the freeway with a deep green Impala in her wake.
Her gaze narrowed on the rearview mirror. Hadn’t that car been behind her when she left St. Paul? The temporary dealer plates were distinctive. It had to be the same car. Somebody was driving new wheels. Her heart rate quickened. She must have been in la-la land during the trip not to notice the green car had stuck with her. Of course, with several lanes of freeway traffic going in the same direction, the tail might not have been too noticeable until now.
The Impala hung back several car lengths, making it impossible to see the driver’s face. Could Damon Lange be hunting her? She swallowed a bitter taste. No, that was silly. The college ball player couldn’t afford a new car. He was squeaking through school on a sports scholarship. Her grip on the steering wheel eased, then tensed until her knuckles were white. If a man could commit murder, he could steal a car!
Ahead, a traffic light turned amber, and Hallie gunned through the intersection, heedless of a possible ticket. The green car was caught by the red light. Pulse washing in her ears, Hallie took the next turn, and then zigzagged around the area until she was sure the Impala hadn’t found her again. The dashboard clock told her she was very late, rather than just sort of late by the time she pulled into a space at The Meridian, but at least she wasn’t about to be accosted by a killer in a restaurant parking lot. She slumped and let out a breath.
Maybe she was making too much out of an innocent coincidence of two people from the same place headed for the same area at the same time, but better to be paranoid than sorry. She’d have to report this incident to the police tomorrow, and see if any green Impalas had been stolen recently. Maybe by then they’d have Lange in custody, and she could relax.
Scrounging up her last scrap of energy, Hallie got out of the car and trod into the stucco and half-timbered restaurant. Laughter, the hum of voices, the clink of silverware and a mingling of divine food odors greeted her senses. People sat around cloth-covered tables under the mellow light of chandeliers hanging from exposed roof beams. Some patrons wore jeans, others suits or dresses. At The Meridian, no one felt out of place and everyone was pampered. Jenna and her business partners had a great thing going here.
Carla, a hostess Hallie recognized, rustled toward her, dressed in a modest, yet form-fitting black dress. “They’re waiting for you in the back. Dr. Pepper, right?”
“Thanks, but no caffeine and sugar tonight. I’ve had enough stimulation for one day. Ice-water with lemon would be a life-saver.”
“I’ll send a tall glass your way.” Carla smiled and glided toward the server’s station.
Hallie threaded between full tables and busy wait staff on a circuitous route toward the private dining room. Peace and quiet in sympathetic company beckoned. She opened the door…and stepped into a carnival.
Balloons. Brightly colored banners. Flashing cameras.
“Surprise! Happy Birthday!”
The joyful din assaulted Hallie from dozens of grinning people. Her feet rooted to the spot, and her mouth fell open. A steel band wound around her chest, and pressure flooded behind her cheekbones. Tears burst their banks.
THREE
Whoa! The birthday girl was about to fly apart. Brody shot up from his chair while everyone else still cheered and laughed. He put his wide shoulders between Hallie and her well-wishers. “Hang in there, trooper. You can handle this.” He dabbed at her cheeks with a linen napkin.
She sniffed a long breath, gazing at him with teary sable eyes. The air stalled in his lungs. She curled her fingers around his. He took in the contrast between their skin—his lightly tanned, her deeper tone natural and exotic. She slipped the napkin from his hand and finished wiping her eyes. Then she stuffed the piece of cloth into his suit coat pocket and stepped around him, a brilliant smile on her face.
“I’m—” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I’m overwhelmed.”
Hallie’s friends who were throwing the party, slender Samantha and full-figured Jenna, hustled forward and gathered her in hugs then whisked her into the crowd, chattering away. So much for “Thanks for the quick thinking, Brody.”
A chuckle next to him drew his attention. It was Ryan Davidson, the tall guy who had introduced himself as Samantha’s fiancé when Brody arrived.
“Quite the trio, eh?” Ryan jerked his chin toward the three women who stood practically joined at the hip as guests greeted the birthday girl. “I never know what they’re going to come up with next. Hallie thought this was going to be a work night, stuffing and addressing wedding invitations. It’s not really her birthday until tomorrow.” He tucked a hand in a jeans pocket. “Sam and Jenna did the invites yesterday, but saved a couple for Hallie to do tonight so they can claim they didn’t lie to her.”
Brody laughed. “Clever. I take it the ladies have known each other for a while.”
“Since forever. They went to high school together and belonged to the same youth group in Hallie’s uncle’s church.”
Brody stared at Samantha’s fiancé. “I didn’t know Hallie was a Christian.”
“I don’t suppose faith is a common topic of conversation where you work.”
“You mean amongst the
