Three #2
Norah tried to research Leifsen, but she kept expecting messages from him to pop up on her screen. Although none had—yet—that evening, the possibility ruined her concentration.
After a few hours of fruitless attempts at working, she couldn’t face any more time in her closet bedroom. The walls were pressing in on her, trapping her, while the tiny window made her feel exposed. It bothered her that Devon Leifsen could make her feel that way about her beloved space, but she couldn’t focus on research while jumping at every tiny noise.
With a huff, she packed up her things and hurried down the stairs. Cara was curled on the couch with her cell phone pressed to her ear, ignoring the laptop open in front of her. From the soft look on her face, Cara had to be talking to Henry. Not wanting to have to explain why she’d been chased out of her room, Norah just mouthed “Chico’s” to her sister and headed toward the front door.
Cara gave her an acknowledging wave and pushed off the couch, moving toward the alarm panel. Without pausing in her phone conversation, she disabled it to let Norah out. Once she was on the porch, Norah waited until she heard the faint beep of the security system being turned back on before she headed down the porch steps. Even though the alarm had been circumvented several times—including once by their mom—they still used it religiously. It’d protect them from break-ins by non-tech-savvy fortune hunters at least.
It was a chilly night without a visible moon, and the streetlights seemed too far apart to cut through the surrounding shadows. Clutching her laptop bag strap with both hands, Norah hurried toward the intersection. As she passed Mr. Petra’s house, she glanced over to see his entry light was on, and her neighbor’s slight form was silhouetted in the window next to his door.
Rather than feeling reassured by his presence, she shivered and hurried her steps. Mr. P’s featureless glare felt menacing, and she let out a breath of relief once she’d moved out of his line of sight. She didn’t slow her quick pace for several blocks until Chico’s came into view.
As she stepped inside the coffee shop, her heart finally returned to its usual rhythm. Although Chico’s was a bit shabby, it was cheerful and wonderfully familiar. When Norah was young and Jane had her sketchy friends over to the house, Molly would bring her sisters to Chico’s. The baristas never seemed to mind having a group of kids hanging out for hours and even snuck them hot chocolate with extra whip, pretending they’d messed up an order and would otherwise have to throw the drink out, even when no other customers were in the shop at the time.
The coffee shop was about half-full, with people scattered around the mismatched couches and armchairs as well as at the more traditional wooden tables and upright chairs. The sound of milk being steamed and the muted chatter of the customers drove out any lingering worries, and Norah’s shoulders lowered as she relaxed.
Although she hated that anxiety about Leifsen had driven her out of her house, visiting Chico’s had been a good idea. Not only would she get the security of being in a crowd, but she could also justify the visit. After all, one of Leifsen’s connections, Chloe Ballister, was known to frequent the place. Norah could pretend to herself that she was doing a little field research rather than just running away from Leifsen’s looming shadow in her too-quiet, too-solitary bedroom.
She ordered her usual drink—hot chocolate with extra whip—and waited until it was ready. Large ceramic mug in hand, she wove her way through the mishmash of furniture to the overstuffed armchair in the back. When she saw that a twentysomething guy reading a battered paperback had already claimed her favorite seat, she settled in the corner on her second choice, a love seat, and took a sip of her drink before putting it on the convenient end table.
The hot chocolate was sweet enough to make her teeth hurt, but the happy memories it brought back made it worth it. Pulling out her laptop, she settled it on her knees and booted it up.
The love seat bounced as someone settled on the other side. Internally, she cringed, bracing herself to rebuff an interested guy. When she turned her head, she had to blink a few times in surprise. The person sitting next to her was none other than Chloe Ballister, friend—or at least former friend—of Norah’s skip and stalker, Devon Leifsen.
“Oh, sorry,” the tall woman sharing her seat said. “I should’ve sat somewhere else, shouldn’t I?”
Still startled that a person of interest—Norah’s very excuse for running to Chico’s—had just dropped down next to her, Norah didn’t reply.
Chloe made a face as she glanced at the empty chairs surrounding them, making her long blond braids fly out as she turned her head. “Yeah, I just made things awkward. Good thing I don’t have the equipment to use a urinal. I’d be guaranteed to pick the one next to the only other person in the bathroom.”
Norah gave a choked laugh, recovering enough from her surprise to start to feel hunted. Did Leifsen send her in here after me? Pushing down her panic, she forced herself to speak. She tried for nonchalance, but her words came out squeaky. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s weird.”
Despite her racing heartbeat, Norah was starting to feel a little excited. This was the perfect opportunity to find out more about Leifsen’s whereabouts. She’d wanted to do field research; here was her chance dropped right in her lap—or at least right next to her lap. Taking a steadying breath, she tried to channel one of her more outgoing sisters. “Well, a little, but I’d rather you sat here than some person who was trying to hit on me.” Norah frowned. “You’re not going to hit on me, are you?”
Chloe laughed, the sound full and irresistible.
To her surprise, Norah found herself smiling back.
“Well, now I’m not.” Chloe laughed again. “I’m Chloe, by the way.”
“Norah.” She wasn’t sure whether to offer a hand to shake, so she just sat there and gave a sort of awkward nod. Part of her felt the usual discomfort of not knowing what to say to a stranger, while the other felt a panicky urgency to see what Chloe knew about Devon Leifsen. “Are you…um…meeting someone here?”
“Nope, so don’t worry.” Chloe settled back on her side of the love seat. “No one will want to kick you off your half.”
Her complete acceptance of sitting so close to a stranger while not trapped in an airplane somehow made the experience humorous rather than uncomfortable. Instead of wanting to flee, Norah found herself relaxing back against the cushions, even as she reminded herself to keep her guard up. This had to be a setup engineered by Leifsen.
“How about you?” Chloe asked.
“Oh no.” Norah’s mind raced, trying to think of an excuse to be there, before she remembered that she honestly wasn’t there under false pretenses…well, not completely. “I just needed to get out of the house.”
“Same.” The way Chloe smiled at her made Norah feel like a member of an exclusive club. “Also, coffee tastes better when someone else makes it.”
Norah considered that for a moment. “True.”
“Don’t let me stop you from working.”
Chloe waved a hand toward her laptop, sparking a flare of panic in Norah. She pictured opening up Devon Leifsen’s file, the information she’d gathered on Chloe in full view, and her stomach twisted with hypothetical embarrassment.
“That’s okay.” As she closed her laptop with a firm click, her brain hunted for some reason to keep it shut. “I’m trying to avoid work, actually. I have a stalker who keeps sending me messages.” She held her breath, waiting to see how the other woman responded.
Chloe’s happy expression disappeared, replaced by a concerned frown. Either she was a good actor, or she didn’t know about Leifsen’s messages. Despite herself, Norah hoped it was the latter. Chloe was just so easy to like.
“A stalker? Have you reported him to the police?”
Norah couldn’t imagine giving the Denver detective investigating her mom’s case any more ammunition against her family. “No, but it’s fine.” Even as she said the words, she could feel how thin and untrue they were. It really wasn’t fine. “Just some guy online, and he never really says anything threatening. Just overuses smiley face emojis.”
“Hmm…” Chloe didn’t look convinced. “Well, keep a record of everything he sends you. And if you need me to kick his ass, I love a good brawl.” Her contagious grin returned.
Even the thought of Devon Leifsen couldn’t kill Norah’s answering smile. She promised herself she was staying skeptical about Chloe’s motives, even as she allowed herself to answer honestly. There was no harm in becoming friendly with a possible lead to Leifsen after all. It would only help her research. “I’m actually learning to fight,” Norah said, enjoying the chance to talk about that without having to worry about giving away her true motivation to her sisters.
“Of course you are,” Chloe’s tone made it clear she considered Norah a budding badass. “If you ever need backup though, I’m your woman.”
“Nice.”
The unexpected male voice made Norah flinch, afraid that Devon Leifsen was standing right in front of them. When she looked up, her shoulders dropped in relief. The man there was a white guy, but he was taller than Leifsen and had darker hair and a thick beard.
“There room for me in the middle?” the stranger asked with a leer. “I’d love to be the middle of a hot blond sandwich.”
Norah instantly tensed again. He might not’ve been the specific creep she’d expected, but he was definitely a creep. Her throat closed as she scrambled for the best way to offend him just enough to make him go away but not so much that he made a scene or waited for them outside or anything. As she hesitated, his smile grew, as if he was enjoying her mute panic.
“Zero room.” Chloe, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate. Her flat, disinterested tone was the perfect dismissal, and Norah tried to tuck the memory of it into her brain so she could use a replica next time someone hit on her. Chloe moved closer so her leg was just an inch from Norah’s, bending her head in a way that completely shut the looming man out of their conversation. “You were telling me about your self-defense training. Have you gotten to the knee-to-the-balls move yet?”
Norah was shocked she was holding back a laugh. Normally, she would be stressed and anxious for hours after some guy tried to hit on her, but Chloe made her feel like the guy’s approach was nothing—less than nothing. She felt a surge of liking for Chloe, although she quickly tempered it with the reminder that she didn’t know the other woman’s motives yet. Chloe was—or at least had been—friends with Leifsen after all.
Chloe gave her a subtle nudge, reminding Norah to answer the question. “Oh yes. We spent several sessions on our knee-to-the-balls technique, as well as elbow, fist, and foot. We even worked on headbutts to the balls, though the logistics of that move aren’t usually as useful as the other four.” She peeked sideways, relieved to see the guy was gone.
Chloe erupted into giggles, leaning into Norah’s side in a way that should’ve felt intrusive. Instead, it seemed like they were a connected team, working together to get rid of the creepy guy, rather than feeling like Chloe had shooed the guy off while Norah’d sat passively.
“That was perfect,” Chloe told her, still grinning in that wonderfully conspiratorial way. “I knew immediately that you were amazing, and I’m always right about these things. My people radar is on point. We’re going to be best friends. I can feel it.”
Norah wasn’t sure how to respond. Even despite knowing Chloe likely wasn’t what she appeared to be, Norah desperately wanted it to be true.
“You don’t believe me yet,” Chloe said, not sounding offended as she reached out a hand. “But you’ll see. When we’re eighty and starting brawls at the nursing home, I’ll be able to tell you I told you so.”
The mental picture of exactly that was so vivid Norah couldn’t hold back her smile.
“Give me your phone.”
Tentatively, Norah handed it over and watched as Chloe entered her number.
“There,” Chloe said with satisfaction, handing it back. “Now you can text me when things are about to go down, and I’ll come running to be your backup. Less dramatic than the bat signal but more efficient.” Chloe’s phone rang, and she bounced up from the couch as she answered it. “Mom! I just randomly met the nicest person at Chico’s. Hang on. I’m heading outside. It’s rude to talk in here.”
With a wave, she headed for the door, leaving Norah feeling stunned and ebullient and fighting to stay objectively suspicious. After all, it was just as likely Chloe was talking with Leifsen. Norah just really wished that it was in fact Chloe’s mom. Even if she was talking with Leifsen, however, Norah was proud she’d made a connection with Chloe as a possible lead. She’d actually done fieldwork successfully, and that was something to celebrate, no matter Chloe’s motives.
It took several minutes before Norah remembered the work she needed to do and opened her laptop again. Resisting the urge to pull up Chloe’s picture just in case she returned after finishing her phone call, she opened the file with Leifsen’s financial records instead. It was less than a minute before the dreaded text box popped up on her screen.
You met Chloe! Isn’t she hot?
Norah’s fingers lifted from her laptop, hovering above the keys as she stared at his latest message. Her heartbeat picked up as her breath caught in her chest. Her gaze flicked up to the tiny, neat square of electrical tape she’d used to cover the laptop camera, and she ran her thumb over it to make sure it was securely in place. It was, which somehow made Leifsen’s knowledge even more disturbing, and her fingers shook slightly as she returned them to the keyboard.
How do you know that?
The thought that Chloe had told Devon Leifsen about her made Norah’s stomach churn with an odd betrayal. It seemed that the whole meetup had been engineered by Leifsen after all.
How do I know everything about you? I’m always watching you, silly.
Where are you? she asked without much hope he’d actually tell her.
Wouldn’t you like to know?
She rolled her eyes. Sometimes he was so cliché she felt like she was in some cheesy horror movie.
I’m enjoying our date , he wrote, making her shudder. I’m pretty old-fashioned, so I insist on paying.
Too late , she wrote, feeling a little satisfaction that she could have the upper hand, even on something as small as this. I already paid for my drink.
Check your account. Large hot chocolate with extra whip, right?
Her fingers trembled as she shut down her laptop and grabbed her phone to check her balance. There, in a pending transaction, was a transfer of $5.61, exactly the cost of her drink.
Shoving all her things back in her bag, she headed for the door, setting her half-full mug in the dirty dish container while trying very hard not to look up at the security camera, just in case he’d hacked into the feed. Her mind whirled, taking in all the ramifications of what had just happened. Devon Leifsen had access to her bank account. He’d known what she’d been drinking. He’d known she’d met Chloe or had even arranged their encounter. She’d always prided herself on being smart, but it seemed as if Leifsen was one step ahead of her in every interaction. She was in over her head.
As she pushed through the door and left the ruined comfort of Chico’s behind her, Norah finally admitted she needed help. She was going to have to tell her sisters.