Chapter 5
“Oh my gosh, that is so scary.” Jillian brushed the
heavy fringe of dark brown bangs out of her wide brown eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” A little concealer had covered the tiny cuts on
my face, and the palms of my hands only stung every so often. “It was scary and
so unexpected.”
“Who would expect that? Ugh.” Jillian glanced down at her
empty plates. We’d demolished our dinner and then our cheesecakes. “I can’t
even imagine. I probably would’ve run screaming and flailing in the other
direction.”
“That’s pretty much what I did.” I eyed the tiny crumb of
cake on my plate and wondered how gluttonous I’d be if I ate that last piece.
“And that’s probably why you’re alive,” she replied. “Even
my father would have a hard time justifying a fight strategy rather than a
flight one.”
Jillian’s father owned Lima Academy, and the sprawling
building in downtown Philadelphia was more than just a gym. It was one of the
premier mixed martial arts training facilities in the world. Jillian’s father,
skilled in his native Brazilian jiu jitsu, could’ve probably used his ninja
stealth and taken the guys out with his karate skills.
“Speaking of your father, how is he handling the idea of you
leaving in the spring?” I asked, changing the subject.
She cringed as she leaned back against the booth, folding
her arms across her chest. Tension seeped into her pretty features. “He’s still
not exactly thrilled about it. He doesn’t like the idea of me not being within
his eyesight. Like something’s going to…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“Anyway, do you still want to go to that signing Tuesday night?”
“Tiffany King’s signing? Hell yeah.” I relaxed when a
genuine smile crossed her face. Conversations about her dad were usually a dead
end. “She’s going to be signing A Shattered Moment.”
Jillian knocked her bangs out of her face. “I loved that
book. Isn’t there going to be another author with her, though?”
“Yeah, I think Sophie Jordan and Jay Crownover are going to
be there.” I glanced over at the couple walking past our table. “You want to
meet at the bookstore?”
She nodded as she picked up her glass. “So,” she drew the
word out. “This Colton guy you mentioned? You went to high school with him?”
I bit back a sigh. I didn’t know why I even brought him up,
but I had, and I was woman enough to admit that I wanted to obsess over every
little thing he’d said to me, but all I managed was a tight nod.
Jillian turned her head to the side and shot me a sidelong
glance. “You know, when you brought him up earlier, you blushed.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did.”
My eyes narrowed, but I laughed because yeah, I probably
did. “I had the biggest crush on him in high school, and I know that’s terrible
because I was with Kevin and that probably makes me a terrible person.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She rolled her eyes. “Just because you
were with someone doesn’t mean you’re blind to everyone around you.”
“True.” I paused. “And Colton was hot.”
Jillian giggled. “Was?”
“And now he like puts an extra ‘o’ and ‘t’ in hot. He…he
actually remembered me. Like he knew what class we shared.”
Her brows rose, disappearing under her bangs. “Really?”
I nodded as I scrunched my nose. “And I think he was
flirting with me. Okay. He was definitely flirting with me, but I think he’s
just a flirt. And guys who are flirts will flirt with anyone.” I paused. “I
wonder how many times I can say ‘flirt’ in a sentence?”
Jillian gave a close-lipped smile. “Oh, I know all about
guys who will flirt with anything that’s breathing.” She glanced over at the
empty table. “Anyway, maybe he’s interested.”
“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Caving in, I scooped up the
last little crumb of cake.
She frowned. “Why? You’re smart and funny. You’re pretty,
and you love books. Why wouldn’t he be interested?”
“Thanks,” I laughed. “But he was engaged up until six months
ago.”
“Oh.” Her lips pursed.
“And I’m not judging the fact he was in a previous serious
relationship because so was I, but…” I stopped myself, laughing again. “Why am
I even thinking about it in that kind of manner? I saw him last night because
he’s the detective investigating a homicide I witnessed and he stopped by this
morning.” I shook my head, clearing those thoughts away. “I don’t even need to
think about this in that way.”
“I don’t know,” she replied after a moment. “But this whole
thing sort of reminds me of a romance trope.”
Another laugh burst out of me. “It sure does, except in real
life, it never works out that way.”
The truth was, even though that kind of thing only ever
happened in books, I secretly dreamed of it happening to me. Sort of like a
grown version of a girlie fantasy.
She shrugged as a far-off look appeared in her gaze and her
response was soft. “I don’t know about that. I like to believe—I need to
believe—that happily ever afters exist in real life too.” In that moment, she
suddenly looked far older than nineteen. “For all of us.”
After dinner, I stopped at the grocery store in town,
picking up a couple of necessary work items.
Coffee.
5-hour Energy drinks.
Skittles.
Chocolate.
Coke Zero.
Without these things, I was pretty much useless when it came
to editing. When I worked in New York, I had a drawer in my desk full of three
of those five things.
Checking out was a breeze and as I headed back into the
waning daylight, I stowed the shopping cart and held on to my bag and case of
soda with a death grip. Even though it was Saturday night, I would be working
once I got my butt home and into comfy sweats. Working from home meant I kept
weird hours.
Or in other words, I simply worked nearly every day.
I most definitely worked more now than when I traveled into
an office every day. Then it had been easier to separate home from work. Not so
much now.
As I neared my car, my steps slowed. When I’d gone into the
store, the parking space beside my car had been empty, and I’d walked past
plenty of vacant spaces on my way in and out, but now there was a van parked on
my driver’s side.
Not just any van. The creepy, white with no windows,
kidnapper-type van.
My stomach dipped as I stopped a few feet from the van.
Maybe I was just being paranoid after last night. Or maybe it had to do with
Colton’s warning about paying attention to anything weird, but either way, a
tiny ball of dread had formed in the pit of my stomach.
The bag was starting to cut into my fingers and the case of
cola was getting heavy. What could I do? Drop my groceries and run? Call Colton
because there was a creeper van parked next to mine?
God, I watched way too much Investigation Discovery channel.
Then, before I could make up my mind to do anything, the
passenger door creaked open and a male stepped out. My heart plummeted. He
didn’t look like he belonged stepping out of a work van. No way, no how. I
wasn’t trying to be judgie-mc-judgers, but his dark trousers, tucked in dark
blue shirt, and polished dress shoes did not fit the rusted, broken-down
creeper van.
Dark sunglasses obscured his eyes, but I had the distinct
impression he was staring at me. Probably because I was standing there like an
idiot, but then again, at this time of day, I couldn’t figure out why he needed
sunglasses. Ignoring the shiver slithering down my spine and the numbness in my
fingers, I started walking again, fully prepared to turn the bag of groceries
into a deadly weapon.
“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” the man called out.
My aching fingers tightened around the strap of the plastic
bag. I didn’t smile. I didn’t reply. The creep factor was off the charts, and
as I neared the back of the van, I gave it a wide berth, ready for a posse of
insane clowns to jump out and try to kidnap me.
Of course, the doors didn’t open. I was going to walk to the
passenger side and try to see if there was anyone else in the van before I went
to the driver’s door. Sounded legit.
“Your name is Abby, right?” the man said.
The air froze in my lungs, like I’d walked into subzero
temperatures. Tiny hairs all along my body rose as if an army of cockroaches
was running loose on my skin. I looked over my shoulder at him.
He stood by the back of his van with a close-lipped smile. A
cold one. Predatory. “The Abby Ramsey, born and raised in Plymouth Meeting?
Married her high school sweetheart who tragically passed away in a car accident
about four years ago? The same Abby Ramsey who works from home as a freelance
editor?”
Holy shit.
Holy shit balls on Sunday.
“Yeah, that’s you,” he continued. “You saw something last
night that we need to chat about.”
Talking was the last thing we needed to do. My heart pounded
in my chest as I faced him. Why did the parking lot seem so empty now? It
wasn’t. People were milling around, but no one was paying attention to us. My
gaze darted to the entry of the grocery store, trying to determine the distance
if I had to make a run for it.
I wasn’t much of a runner.
He took a step forward, and I blanched, lifting the heavy
bag, prepared to swing if he got any closer. He raised his hands. “I’m not
going to hurt you.”
Famous last words. “Don’t come any closer to me.”
“I’m not. We can have our little conversation from a
distance if that makes you happy.” He smiled again, but it was chilling. “All I
need you to understand, and I need you to really get this, is that you’re not
going to be able to identify anyone from last night.”
An icy knot balled in my stomach.
“That’s all, and that’s not a big deal, is it? Just keep
your mouth shut from here on out and nothing bad will happen. And you don’t
want anything bad to happen, do you?”
I was beyond responding, my heart thumping heavily in my
chest. That was a threat, a very thinly veiled threat. Part of me couldn’t
believe this was happening.
“We want to make sure you keep your mouth shut,” he said in
the same friendly, conversational tone. “And I think you’ll understand fairly
quickly how serious we are.”
Just then, the passenger window rolled down and all I saw
was an arm extend out. A hand popped the side of the van, causing my heart to
jump. The man backed up then, clapping his hands together as he said, “Now you
have a nice evening.”
I didn’t move as he walked back to the van and climbed in. I
didn’t move when the old thing hunkered to life or when it pulled straight
through the empty spot in front of it, turning left to head out of the parking
lot.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
In a daze, I shoved my groceries into the trunk of my car
with jerky, quick motions, and then I climbed in behind the wheel. I didn’t
even think for one second about what to do next. There was no way I was not
going to call the police. Forget that. Before I left for dinner, I had shoved
Colton’s card in my purse. My mind raced. It made sense to call him because he
knew what was going on. Calling 911 meant I’d have to tell them everything all
over again.
As I pulled my cellphone out of my purse with a shaky hand,
its unexpected shrill ring startled a tiny shriek out of me. Jesus. I looked
down at the screen. It was a local number I didn’t recognize. Normally I
wouldn’t answer, but for some unknown reason, this time I did.
I placed it to my ear and croaked out, “Hello?”
“Abby?”
My free hand landed on the steering wheel. I recognized the
voice immediately. “Colton? I—”
“Thank fucking God you answered,” he said, cutting me off.
“Where are you?”
I blinked slowly, completely thrown off. “I’m…I’m sitting in
the parking lot of the grocery store near…near Mona’s.”
“I want you to listen to me, okay?” There was the sound of a
car door slamming and an engine keying on. “I want you to go inside and stay
there, okay. Do not go home.”