Chapter 13
Harlyn
Conversation is kept to a minimum until nearly all the plates are empty.
I polished off three halves of thick French toast myself, while Boone ate his sandwich and the bowl of oatmeal with the leftover berries on my plate once I said I couldn’t eat another bite.
I would be lying, though, if I said the next step hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind.
When the waitress tops off our coffee for the second time and leaves a small paper bill on the table, Boone is finally willing to talk about it.
“I can only think of two ways to handle this. We move you into a safe house, which would alert this guy we’re onto him, and he could go dark before we find him.”
I hate that idea. Even if he leaves me alone for a little while, I will always be looking over my shoulder, not to mention he would get away with killing Hayzel. “Or?” I prompt.
“We can play his game.”
“What do you mean, play his game?”
“That answer isn’t so simple, and I don’t want to have that conversation here.” He slaps his hand over the bill and pulls it toward him.
“Let me,” I offer, feeling like I owe him since things are very different than when I accepted his offer for breakfast last night.
His face falls into a scowl, and he gives me a chastising side-eye before rising from the bench seat and extending his hand to me in a sweet gesture.
I rush to slide across the seat, then I take his hand as I stand.
Our fingers stay linked, even as he walks up to the cash register at the end of the bar.
A thrill of excitement catches me off guard. How can I get butterflies in my stomach from him holding my hand at a time like this? I’m so wrapped up in my own head, I don’t even realize he’s towing me toward the back of the restaurant. “Do you need to go?”
“Go where?” I question, looking around.
“To the bathroom. I had too many cups of coffee.” He gestures toward the doors.
“Oh yeah, I better,” I agree.
“If you’re out first, don’t move from this spot.” He eyes me.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t just like to come in?” I joke.
“That’s probably a good idea.” Boone crowds closer to me, and I laugh softly.
“Thank you for that. I can’t believe I can even laugh right now, but no.
I will be going in alone, as will you be.
” I pull my hand from his and turn to enter the bathroom.
I doubt he was being serious, but I don’t know him well enough yet to know—yet.
I get hung up on that word, because I do want to know him that well.
Boone is standing right in front of the door when I exit the bathroom.
He doesn’t offer me his hand again, but I wasn’t really expecting him to—hoping maybe but not expecting.
On the short walk to the car, reality starts to set in again.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m afraid to go back to the condo.
How am I going to sleep there tonight, or any other night, after knowing someone else was inside?
“How do you think he got in?” I buckle my seatbelt, unsure of where we’re going but glad to be with Boone.
“How did you get details for the rental? Email or phone, I’m guessing.” He looks both ways down the street before pulling out of the parking lot.
“Mostly email, which I have on my phone, but the confirmations came through text.”
“Immediate thoughts. He’s had a lot of time to enmesh himself into your life and learn how you operate.
He could have cloned your phone or found another way to learn your passwords and checked your email.
Clearly, he found some way to gain physical access.
I didn’t notice any security features at the condo besides the camera in the doorbell, but everyone has those.
I’m sure he would have taken that into consideration when he went in. ”
“Clone my phone, like spy shit?”
“Spy shit?” Boone glances at me with a small, wry smile.
“What else should I call it? I thought that kind of stuff only happened in movies.”
“I assure you, it happens in real life more than you might think. Hell, you can find tutorials on how to do shit like that on YouTube.”
I have a hard time wrapping my head around that. “You think he was just letting himself in using the door code I set up?”
“Unless it’s a number you use all the time, and he could have easily guessed it.”
“I mean, it’s not like it’s my birthday or anything, but I did want to make sure I would remember it.”
My tone must be defensive, because he says, “Hey, I’m not blaming you. We all do the same kind of thing. It’s just something we need to take into consideration.”
“Sorry,” I murmur.
“You don’t need to be sorry.” He glances over at me.
“I don’t need to be snippy either.”
“I grew up with sisters, remember? That isn’t snippy.”
I take his offer to let me off the hook and steer things back to what really matters. “So, what do we do next?”
“We go to the movies.”
“What?” I look out the windshield to see him turning into the parking lot of an unadorned square building. The only sign it’s even a movie theater is the unlit marquee advertising a movie that was in theaters months ago in huge, black block letters.
“This is the closest one.” Boone gives me a contrite frown.
“It looks—”
“Awful,” he remarks.
“Different,” I correct.
“If it were a real date, I would have taken you somewhere else.”
“Oh!” The exclamation of surprise slips past my lips.
“That sounded better in my head. I was planning on taking you somewhere else, but circumstances have changed. This is mostly about keeping up appearances so we can talk where I know we won’t be overheard.”
“Oh,” I repeat, the meaning much different.
“One good thing about this place is it’s pretty dead. It will be easy to spot anyone trying to get too close.”
“Silver lining,” I agree, reaching for my door handle as he opens his.
We pass a few other cars in the parking lot.
I’m on the fence about whether or not I should make a wager with Boone that at least three of them belong to the employees.
He hauls open the darkly tinted glass door for us, revealing a small vestibule.
The smell of buttery popcorn hits me first. That’s a good sign.
I was worried the floors were going to be sticky, like maybe this used to be an entirely different kind of theater.
“What are you smiling about?” Boone’s mouth is closer to my ear than I expect, and I get goosebumps.
“Do you really want to know? My mind can be a dark place.”
“I don’t want to know, now I need to know.” He opens the next door, and I’m speechless for a moment while I take in the interior. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he mumbles to himself, but I can’t help but agree.
“Me either. The opposite in fact.” The interior of the building is opulent, all red velvet and gold finishings. Even the candy counter looks like something from a bygone era.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Harlyn, what put that pretty smile on your lips?”
“Gosh, it’s even worse now.” I chuckle softly before leaning a little closer to him and admitting, “I was wondering if this was a reclaimed skin-flick theater.”
Boone’s eyes widen in what I’m guessing is surprise before he bursts out laughing.
He’s so boisterous and animated, I look around to see if there’s anyone else around to witness it.
Before I can spot anybody, his hands land on my cheeks, and he steers my attention back to him.
“That is not what I was thinking when you said dark.”
“Did I say dark? I might have meant dirty.” I grin with him.
His eyes slip down to my lips, and my stomach dips. Instead of leaning in, he releases his hold on my face and takes a step back. “Let’s see what’s starting soon.”
The rejection stings, but I try not to let it show. I’m not sure how much of his mixed signals I can manage before I’ll need to shut him out for my own sanity.
He gets us tickets for the next showing and loads up on popcorn, drinks, and candy.
The girl from the candy counter walks around and greets us near a short set of roped off stairs.
After taking our tickets, she directs us to a cozy little lobby just off the entrance, informing us that we still have nearly thirty minutes before we can seat ourselves in the theater.
“I never would have ventured into this place from the looks of the exterior alone,” I divulge after lowering myself into a club chair.
“I bet the locals love it. Not that many people on vacation make time to go to the movies, and I bet even the summer residents would travel to the larger theater in the next town over.” he agrees, nipping a bit of popcorn from the top of the bucket.
There’s an awkwardness in our conversation that wasn’t there before.
Maybe it’s just the strange situation we’re in, or maybe he’s second-guessing his interest in me, considering the epic baggage that comes with me—not that I can blame him.
Who wants to get tangled up with a girl who’s being stalked by what I believe is a serial killer?
“I’d definitely come back,” he finally says, bouncing his gaze around the room. I don’t share his sentiment. As much as I loved Michigan, it may not be the place for me.
“Sooo,” I start, “is it okay to talk here? It would surely be better than inside, when we would have to yell.”
Boone’s eyes make one final lap around the empty lobby before falling to me. “Yeah, I think we’re good.”
“What do you think I should do?” After asking, I feel a little guilty. It’s obvious I’m putting a lot of pressure on him.
He inhales deeply. “The more I think about it, the more I think we should get you into protective custody. I don’t know enough about this case to predict what he’s going to do.”