“I’m in a hurry. If you want, I can drop you off, otherwise no pressure.” My hands fasten around the steering wheel and thankfully she jumps into the passenger seat without further argument. After she has fastened the seat belt, I program her office address on the GPS.
“Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d have done.” Her sincere words force me to briefly glance at her as she turns toward me, clutching her bag tightly in her grip.
“Why don’t you have a car?” I ask before bringing my attention back to the road. My chest tightens at the sight of her worried face.
“Umm, I want to get my own,” she whispers, fidgeting in her seat.
I’m not sure if this girl is too crazy or too proud.
I look into the rearview mirror and my gaze lands on a black cruiser two cars behind in the traffic. My muscles tighten as I hold the wheel too tight. With bulletproof windows, the black-mirrored car sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of traffic. Keeping one eye on it, I continue driving at my usual speed and stop outside Vanshionista.
“Thank you so much, Keith, for coming back.” After releasing her seat belt, Clementine remains seated, her fingers playing with the strap of her bag. “About this morning… I’m sorry. I’ll get everything set up as soon as possible.”
“It’s okay.” I try not to think about the insane morning.
“Umm, okay. Have a nice day.” She gets out and before closing the door, smiles at me. “I’ll see you at home.”
My heart lurches into my mouth. My scalp prickles as I’m paralyzed on the spot, my mind transported to a decade before.
I’m sitting in my truck, outside the kindergarten where Melanie works, and as every day, she kisses me and then, before leaving, smiles at me. “I’ll see you at home, babe.”
I look at the retreating figure of Clementine. Second time in less than twenty-four hours she has stolen my wife’s words and thrown them in my face.
What fucked-up cruelty of life is this?
Am I not missing Melanie enough already, that I have to listen to her words coming from a stranger’s mouth?
I try to calm myself, taking deep breaths until my heart beats at a sane frequency. I look in the rearview mirror and parked in the street, four cars away, is the same black cruiser.
My jaw tightens. This cannot be a fucking coincidence.
I dial Lukas.
“Spencer.” He picks up after two rings.
“Luke, I need two men on Lincoln Street. I want them to keep an eye on a black cruiser.”
“You got it, man.”
We end the call, no further questions asked. My gaze remains fixed on the car not budging from its place.
As I wait for someone from my team to join, I get a call from Oscar.
“Hello, Keith. How’s it going?” he asks carefully.
“About what specifically, your sister or me?”
He chuckles. “Both.”
I release a heavy breath. His lighthearted comment distracts me. “Your sister broke my lamp.”
“She what?”
I ignore his question. “She slept in my living room and moved around my house like a thief at five in the morning, making coffee in my kitchen. Then I had to drop her at Vanshionista because she doesn’t own a car and the buses are not working.” I get more worked up with every word.
“Keith, I’m—"
“Why didn’t you tell me she’s working for Vanessa Hilbert? Does Zach Teager know?”