Chapter 42 #2
“Glad to hear it. I was coming up to see if you wanted me to bring you some breakfast.”
Riley cocked her head to the side. “I think I’ll come down. I’m getting tired of this room.”
“Sounds great. Do you want to take the elevator?”
“No, let’s try the stairs. I think I’ll be all right.”
After breakfast—or brunch, since it was nearly eleven before she ate—she and Mom took advantage of a sunny early afternoon to walk through the garden and greenhouse, admiring Grandpa Kevin’s roses and orchids.
He’d outdone himself this year. Maybe he’d let them use some for the head table arrangements at the New Year’s Charitable Dinner and Ball.
“I sure hope I can dance at the ball,” she said.
Mom nodded, walking arm-in-arm with her on their way back to the house. “I’m sure the soreness will be gone by then. You have two more weeks to recover.”
“Hopefully.” She yawned. “Speaking of recovering, I think I’m going to go lie down.”
“Good idea. I’ll walk you upstairs.”
They entered the house, and Riley stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the upper floor. “I think I’ll take the elevator.”
Upon returning to her room, she spotted her laptop. “The DL pic. I forgot all about that.”
She lowered herself gently into her office chair, thankful it was well-padded. After booting up her PC, she waited for her email to come up and clicked on the one she sent from her phone almost three hours earlier. She opened the attachment, then zoomed in on the face.
“Four years ago.”
Thick, shoulder-length hair, facial stubble above his lips and trailing down onto his chin. Thin face. Slight.
Taking her cue from Shane, she covered the bottom part of the face with her hand.
Her stomach somersaulted.
The eyes. The same ones she’d encountered after she’d twisted out of his grip that day in the parking garage. The same ones from the composite.
Dark, penetrating, yet void of any life. Soulless.
Removing her hand, she leaned in to get a closer look. Something about him … familiar besides the eyes. But that’s all she’d seen that was him. Beyond the longer beard, the baseball cap.
“Do I know you?” She spoke aloud, her voice quiet, pondering. “Jacob Warren Everett.” The name rang no bells, brought nothing forth from the recesses of her brain.
“Four years ago.”
I guess it’s possible they could’ve met at the club.
The dad didn’t know if he was fired or left, but said it was about four years ago.
Jacob.
Cait … Jacob … country club.
A memory flashed, and she sat back so fast, her rolling chair banged into the credenza behind her. Pain shot through her hip, but she couldn’t pull her attention from the screen as a scene played out in her mind.
Caitlyn … at the country club … they were meeting for a game of tennis.
Riley walked out of the women’s dressing room.
On her way to the courts, she saw Caitlyn—yellow pleated short skirt, white tank top, her long legs bare down to the tennis shoes from a sponsor paying for some time in her wide circle of online influence.
Duffel slung over her shoulder with the racquet grip sticking out.
A man Riley hadn’t recognized, dressed in long black pants and light green polo shirt with the country club logo on the shoulder, stood in front of her. He reached for the bag, but Caitlyn swung out of his reach.
No.
Riley couldn’t hear the words, but her friend’s lips were easy to read.
I told you. Leave me alone.
The man’s face flipped like a switch. From cordial and smiling to dark and angry.
Riley walked in their direction.
“You snobby rich girls.” He spat the words. “Don’t know a good thing when you see it. You’ll regret it someday. Just wait.”
Caitlyn, being Caitlyn, leaned in and stared him down. “Leave. Me. Alone. One word from me and you’re history here.”
Caitlyn stepped away and headed toward Riley, putting on a bright smile. “Hey, girl, ready to be humiliated on the court?”
“Uh, sure.” Riley studied the man now standing several feet away, glowering at Cait’s back, his hands fisted at his sides, face and neck red. “Who is that guy?”
Her friend flipped her hand as if shooing away a pesky fly. “Jacob. Works at the bar and grill.”
Jacob Everett. She was as sure of it as she was of the sun filtering through the blinds.
Dark hair worn to the collar and pushed behind his ears. Stubble from his mouth down to his chin. Thin but fit, slight of face.
And seething.
Caitlyn pulled her arm through Riley’s to steer her toward the courts. “Keeps asking me out, always after me to carry my bag or be my caddy. Can’t seem to get the message I’m not interested.”
“You should report him.”
Cait shrugged. “I might. It’s getting a little old.”
Riley’s skin tingled as she stared back at the man on her screen. She slammed the laptop closed.
And everything clicked into place, like a key finally turning in a stubborn lock.
“You mean that Jacob guy?” Cait had said at lunch only four months before her death. “He was harmless. I never saw or heard from him after that day …”
Warren Everett wasn’t after her simply to dissuade her from defending Shane. He was after her in case she remembered.
After her to keep her silent.