15. Chapter Fifteen
ANNA
“How many are we picking up today?” Anna asked.
“Three,” Elsa replied. “Millie, Esther, and Janice. Blanche and Mary Rose will meet us there.”
Anna did the math, taking into account the adjustable seating accommodations of the adaptive van. The front passenger seat was already out for Elsa’s wheelchair, as was the seat right behind it, which would accommodate Janice’s scooter. Millie and Esther were mobile enough to sit in the standard seating directly behind the driver and the third-row split bench.
“Then, we’re good to go.”
Once Elsa’s wheelchair was secured in the passenger area, they set off to pick up the others. Anna’s duties had expanded to include chauffeuring not only Elsa, to and from her appointments, but her friends as well for group activities. Anna didn’t mind. They were an entertaining bunch. Bonus: while they were being pampered in the spa, Anna would be able to run some errands—something she could accomplish quicker on her own.
“Join us, Anna,” Millie coaxed once Anna herded them into the posh building.
“No, thanks. You ladies have a good time. I’ll pick you up in a few hours.”
Anna made sure the woman at the front desk had her cell phone number just in case, then stepped out into the crisp air.
It was barely spring, but Pine Ridge seemed eager to move ahead with the program. The sun was shining, the sky was a beautiful blue, and the temperature was unseasonably warm for late March. The only evidence of the recent snowfall were the large piles created by plows in parking lots, but even they were disappearing rapidly.
Filling her lungs with the fresh air, Anna used the free time to run errands and learn her way around the downtown area. She picked up Elsa’s refills at the pharmacy. Got some stamps at the post office. Made a quick stop at the jeweler to drop off Elsa’s favorite watch for cleaning and a new battery. Tasks complete, she had the rest of the afternoon to herself.
Anna set a course for the public library. As stoic and beautiful as it was on the outside, with its old stone and carvings, it was even more so on the inside. High ceilings, stained-glass windows, and towering shelves as far as the eye could see.
She took a moment to absorb the silence and instant sense of peace as the door swung noiselessly shut behind her. It wasn’t particularly crowded. Most people didn’t want to spend a beautiful day within the confines of a library, especially when the internet gave them the world at their fingertips. Anna felt just the opposite. For her, public libraries provided a kind of privacy and anonymity that smart devices did not.
She found an open computer with no problem, one far enough away from the central desk and the smattering of other occupants that no one would be looking over her shoulder. She made sure her phone was in silent mode, then set it face up on the table so she’d see the screen light up if anyone tried to contact her.
Turning her attention to the screen, she opened an incognito window and began to type, her fingertips tapping lightly on the keys. She started with well-known national news sites and scrolled through headlines, opening up random articles in new windows. One on the climate crisis. Another on high-protein, low-fat recipes. And of course, the requisite feel-good animal story.
Her true interest came last. With another discreet look around, she clicked into the story she really wanted to read. Familiar names appeared under images of familiar faces.
They’d changed over the years. Time had added lines and exaggerated features, but their eyes were the same. Cold and soulless. A chill rippled along her spine as those dark, piercing orbs seemed to stare right back into hers.
Paul DiGiorgio. Sal Santini. Constantine Delvecchio. The faces she still saw in her nightmares. And more recently, in national headlines, under Political News. She searched the images, looking for one person in particular. Praying she didn’t see him there.
She zoomed in, scanned left to right, back to front. She was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when her eyes doubled back to a familiar figure. He was dressed in a black overcoat with a black hat pulled down, only the lower half of his face visible, but even under the beard he’d grown, she’d know the set of that jaw anywhere.
He was still alive.
A figure appeared in her peripheral vision, approaching from the side. Anna quickly clicked away from the image, returning to the heartwarming story about a rescue dog.
The man drew closer at a relaxed pace, slightly favoring one leg. Around fiftyish. Receding hairline. A little on the heavy side. Her first thought: he’s a cop.
She forced herself to calm down. She’d done nothing wrong. Not here anyway.
His eyes met hers briefly, and he smiled, but there was nothing friendly about him. A chill went through her, along with a sense of foreboding. Anna stopped breathing for a moment.
“Do you mind?” the man asked in a low, rough voice, indicating a seat across the table and two seats to the left.
Yes, she did mind. There were plenty of seats available at other tables. Why did he have to sit at hers?
But she shook her head slowly. The man offered another vague smile and then sat down. He extended one leg and let out a breath, as if in relief. The position angled his body slightly toward her, but his attention soon focused on the computer in front of him.
Anna watched him discreetly. He clicked. He sipped his coffee. Did nothing overtly suspicious. And yet there was something off about him. Something that set off warning bells.
He was too still, she realized. Most people’s eyes moved when they read or looked at images. Their lids narrowed or widened. They shifted in their seats, inclined their heads toward the screen for a closer look. Made facial expressions in response to various visual stimuli.
Not him. His eyes were on the screen in front of him, but his attention was elsewhere. On her, if her instincts were correct. He wasn’t just a cop then. He was a cop who was interested in her specifically.
Anna trusted her instincts. They told her when to run. When to hide. When to fight.
They hadn’t been wrong yet.
At that moment, there were screaming warnings, telling her to get out of there, to get away from him, and to do so in a way that didn’t rouse suspicion.
She did everything he didn’t—forced her eyes across the page, over words she didn’t absorb. Closed a window. Leaned in close, allowing a ghost of a smile to curl her lips. Then made a show of checking her watch before she closed out of everything and gathered her things.
He looked up briefly, then went back to his computer.
Anna walked to the front of the library. Hung around for a moment. Then, as if realizing she’d forgotten something, she turned around and walked back to where she had been. When she got close, she changed course, took a detour, and approached from a different direction.
The man was still there, but he had moved spots. He was now sitting where she had been, using the computer she had used. Unlike earlier, his fingers now moved like lightning, and he was one hundred percent invested in whatever he was doing.
Was he one of those people who were compulsive about their routines? Like, he had to sit in the same spot, use the same computer, perform the same series of tasks in a certain order?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Her instincts said … not.
Anna turned and resumed her exit, her heart beating fast, her mind racing right along with it. Who was that guy, and why was he so interested in what she’d been looking at?