Chapter 5 #2
Upstairs there’s a long hallway, dark wood, and four doors.
The door at the end is open, and light streams through three windows.
It’s a small room, and the bed takes up much of the space.
The comforter is patterned, the furniture all matching light wood, and several pillows soften the space, giving it a feminine vibe.
Books are stacked on a bedside table, and in columns against one wall.
There’s a framed photo of Sprocket, Evie’s pet Schnauzer growing up.
There’s no way he’s still alive, but I like that she has his photo by her bed.
She leans against the rail, watching me as I peak my head into each of the rooms.
“The designer did almost everything. I can’t take any credit.”
“It’s refined without being stiff,” I say as I peer into the small guest bedroom that butts up to the master. I continue down the hall and open the door, looking back once to check it’s okay.
She says, “It’s my office.”
Her office is a street facing bedroom, with three windows on one wall, just like the master, but whereas the master had an additional window that overlooked her neighbor, the only windows in this room face the street.
The walls are covered in photographs, timelines, color coded index cards with notes, names circled, arrows pointing, strings held up and pinned with pushpins.
I step closer, studying one section of a wall with tons of photographs of the same woman.
If I didn’t know better, the wall would read as devotional.
“It’s my case. Project Safe Passage,” she says under her breath.
Judging from her walls, safe is an ironic word choice.
“You’re still working the case?” I turn to face her. She leans against the door frame, one hand massaging her shoulder. Likely still sore from the wreck. “You’re working it alone aren’t you?”
“Like I told Rhodes. We dropped it. There is no case.”
My gaze flicks back to the haunted eyes. Photos snapped in a variety of seasons. Locations. “You haven’t dropped it.”
She steps closer, pointing. “That’s Lina. The missing witness. I promised her we’d keep her safe.”
I don’t miss the note of regret. “Is it possible she’s safe? Maybe in WITSEC?”
“She’s not in the database. I don’t think she’s in WITSEC, but now that we’ve dropped the case, if she is and they just kept it from me because I don’t have clearance—which seems to be what you’re implying—then that’s all the more reason for me to find her.
Because no case, no witness, no protection. ”
She licks her lips, and I force my attention back to the wall.
The issue with Evie is her eyes. The depth has always drawn me in. Even as a kid, those eyes gave the impression she was the wisest person in the room.
I scan the walls, reading the meticulous case notes and noting the absence of answers. “I can help,” I say. “I’ve got the time.”
“I’m sure you have better things—”
“I don’t.”
Those eyes become impossibly darker. Addictive.
I focus on the wall, her notations. “I have an intelligence background. A team with experience. Skills. Access. You shouldn’t be working this alone.”
My gaze cuts from Evie to the open windows and the view across the street. I clock the windows that could be used to monitor her.
“Why don’t you have blinds in here?”
“Because I like the light. And when I work at night, I like to see the streetlights and check the weather.”
“Noted,” I say, making a mental note to look into window film.
I step back to circle her desk, positioned in the center of the room, facing the three windows. On her desk, there’s a laptop, closed. A monitor. And stacks of files. No photographs.
It’s like my desk back when I was in MI. Nothing personal. By design. But this is her home.
She stretches her head to the side, this time working her other shoulder.
“Pain from the wreck?”
She nods. “Muscles are sore.”
I stretch out my fingers, motioning to take over.
She blinks, like she’s struggling to comprehend my offer.
It’s a reasonable offer.
The fact that I want to touch her is a separate problem.
For a second, I hold my breath.
It seems, so does she.
A sharp ding-dong sounds, breaking whatever miscommunication was crossing between us.
“Is that your doorbell?”
“Yes.”
“You expecting anyone?”
She frowns. “No.”
“Delivery?”
“I get everything delivered to the office because I’m not usually here to take a package.”
She pads quickly down the stairs, and I’m two steps behind her.
It’s early afternoon, broad daylight. Pedestrians casually stroll on the sidewalk past the front window.
Risk level low.
She slings open the door.
“Scott?”
“Whoa. Look at your face.”
Yeah, that’s the reaction I’d expect from Scott.
“Dad said you were in a wreck, but man…don’t they have makeup that’ll cover that up?”
I step into his view and my old friend blinks. “Gabe. What’re you doing here?”
Evie looks between the two of us.
“I live close by now,” I say, holding out a hand that he takes, then steps closer for a man hug complete with a back pat.
I hadn’t told him. That’s not an oversight—I made a deliberate choice to keep my presence here quiet until I had a better read on the situation.
Telling Scott would’ve been the same as telling Evie, and I needed the distance to assess properly.
He’d understand that, if I explained it. I’m not sure I'm ready to explain it.
“Good to see you, man.”
Scott and I text the way we always have—sports scores, random observations, the occasional link to something stupid.
Nothing that would qualify as a real conversation.
That’s not distance. That’s just how it works between us.
The real stuff tends to wait for in-person, and there’s been less of that lately.
“You in town checking on your sister?” That’s actually…good of him.
“Doing Dad a favor.” He turns his attention back to his sister. He doesn’t make a move to give her hug, instead studying her bruises before whipping out his phone.
“What’re you doing?” she asks, annoyance clear, sounding like the teen I remember.
“Proof of life for Dad.”
Her shoulders tighten. Just slightly. Enough that I see it.
“I thought you were in New York,” she says, swatting the phone away.
“I am. It’s an hour flight. Saturday. I told Dad I’d do this.” He turns to me. “Didn’t know you’d be here. Come back with me,” he says, holding his phone up, trying to take a pic while Evie blocks her face with her hands.
“Come back where?”
“The city.”
“New York?”
“Yeah. You’re still a free man, right?”
He checks his phone at the partial pic he grabbed of Evie, and taps away, presumably sending it to his father.
“Last I checked.”
“I’ve got the best place to go. It’ll be worth your time. You will thank me.” His smug grin tells me everything I need to know. It’s got to be some strip club or something.
A lot of my old military teammates are married with kids. But there are stragglers with attitudes like Scott. And nothing against his aunt, but my money’s on Scott never settling down. Unless there’s a payday of some kind for justification.
“No can do. Rain check,” I say, instantly meeting those dark eyes, since I’m using her word.
“No, man,” Scott says, using the same tone he’s always used to talk me off the fence. “I’ll fly you back tomorrow. I’m telling you. Worth your time. It’s this place called The Sanctuary.” He swipes his phone, clicks, and hands it to me. “Flick through those. All there. Tonight.”
On screen there’s a photo of a beautiful woman. Posed. Black hosiery. Mini dress. Long hair. I flick. Another image. Different woman. Flick. Another woman. It could be a catalog shoot on his phone.
“And you, little sis,” Scott says, turning his attention back to Evie.
“I can’t believe Dad sent you here,” she says.
“Dad says you need a car.”
“My car is going to be fine.”
I pass Scott’s phone back to him. “Tell you what. I’m going to swing by the auto shop where Evie’s car is. It’s on my way. You two catch up.”
“How do you know where my car is?” Evie asks.
“Sources,” I say, holding back on sharing Rhodes’s name with Scott.
“We’re going car shopping,” Scott says. “Dad’s orders.”
His easy dismissal of my nonanswer makes me realize I could’ve mentioned Rhodes’s name and chances are Scott never would’ve inquired.
“Unlike you, I don’t follow Dad’s orders,” Evie snaps.
Yeah. That’s a sibling fight I’m not touching. I step toward the still open front door. “Evie. Fantastic place. Scott. Ring me the next time you’re in town.”
“Come on, man. Trust,” he whines. “You want to come out with me tonight.”
No, I really don’t. The women on his phone didn’t look like strippers, but regardless—not my scene.
“Can’t,” I say, stepping out of the townhouse. “Next time. Evie, I’ll call you later.”
“I don’t have an estimate yet,” Evie says.
“I know.” I take a step back. “But I was planning to do this anyway. When you get it, I’ll be better able to weigh in if I’ve checked it out.”
Besides, I want to get eyes on her brake lines.
I point at Scott. “Taking her to see some cars, just in case. That’s a good call.”
“Knowing this one, she’ll probably get another Jetta.”
“It’s a good car,” she says, defensively.
“Let me see this space you have to park. Dad said something about you need a smaller car….”
For half a second, I consider staying.
I don’t.
I’m two steps down when the door shuts.
It’s good Scott’s there. Good he’s showing her car options. It’s good I’ve got the time to go see her car for myself. And after seeing the evidence board on her office wall, I’m not leaving anything to chance.
Professional instinct. But the truth is, it isn’t only that.