SVU Surveillance

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  * * *

  GWEN LET THE fervor of his words strengthen her. If anyone understood what she’d been through, it was Luke. He’d lost everything right alongside her. And when she’d asked him to, he’d had the grace to let her go, as well.

  She dunked half a fry in the paper cup of ketchup at the edge of her plate and tried desperately to relax. But so much had changed. Her. Him. Them. He didn’t even go by his nickname anymore. The female officer had nearly laughed when Gwen had requested to speak with Luke Winchester.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asked, concern marring his handsome brow.

  “Not really,” she admitted. Being back in West Liberty was harder than she’d expected, and so was seeing him.

  He’d aged unfairly well, of course, filled out in all the right places and seemed impossibly more fit than he had in college. He carried himself differently now, too, no longer the dorky future architect she’d fallen in love with. This Luke, Lucas, she corrected herself, had a coolness in his eyes and tension to his limbs she’d never known in him. “You’ve barely touched your beer.”

  “The night’s young,” he said, absently, his gaze searching the crowd.

  “Is it? Or are you on duty right now?” she asked. “Because you seemed agitated when we sat down, now you’re clearly on edge.”

  His lips curled into a cocky grin. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t do that,” Gwen snapped, the words coming more harshly than she’d intended. She pulled her shoulders back and pressed her lips together briefly before going on. “Don’t pretend like I don’t know you. You’re scanning the crowd on a regular circuit, and you’ve angled yourself on the bench for a better look at the door and front window. You’re obviously on alert, and if it’s because of what I told you, I need to know. The fact that you’re nursing that beer makes me think you want to keep a clear head, and I worry that it’s because you think what I’ve told you is cause for concern and that I might be in danger.”

  He swiveled forward, eyes hot and jaw locked. “I don’t know if you’re in danger. I didn’t even know you lived twenty minutes away until thirty minutes ago, but for what it’s worth, yeah. I think you were smart to trust your instincts. And I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Gwen’s stomach rolled. The wine and french fries revolted in her gut. As they should have. She wasn’t twenty-two and carefree anymore. This night was too much. The whole day was too much. She rubbed her fingertips against a napkin and pushed the plate aside. “I should probably use the ladies’ room then head home.”

  Lucas stood silently and waited at the end of the table while she gathered her things and slid out.

  “What about your sliders?”

  “I’ll get a box.” He stretched one arm toward the hallway in the back of the pub, then trailed her as she made her way to the ladies’ room.

  The protective gesture warmed her heart and stung her eyes.

  He leaned against the wall outside the restroom while she hurried inside.

  She splashed cold water on her face, then ripped the pins and elastic from her hair, letting her curls fall free. She plucked the creamy fabric of her silk blouse away from her heated skin a few times, then dabbed a wet paper towel along her neck and collarbone. “You are safe,” she told the wide brown-eyed reflection staring back at her. Lucas was clearly still perfect, impossibly sexier than she’d remembered and on her side. If there was anything to fear, he would let her know. Until then, she’d finger-comb her crazy hair, wipe the drops of water from her face and go home for some much needed sleep.

  She reopened the bathroom door and Lucas smiled.

  “Hey.” He reached for her with an apologetic look in his eyes, and she nearly leapt into him. “I should’ve done this earlier,” he whispered into her wild and unruly hair. His protective arms wound around her, tucking her in tight. “It’s nice to see you, Gwen. You look stunning as always, and I’m glad you’re here.” He released her too soon, gripping her shoulders gently and fixing her with a determined gaze. “I don’t know what’s going on back in New Plymouth, but I meant what I said about protecting you any way I can. A lot of things have changed between us, but not that. Never that.”

  “Thanks.”

  He motioned her ahead of him, back through the crowd toward the table. “So, what happened in that bathroom?” he asked. “It looks like your hair went crazy.”

  “Shut up.” She shot him a sideways look as they reached the booth. “I thought you always liked my crazy hair.”

  “I do.” He scooped a disposable container off the table. “I saw the waitress while I was waiting. She got the box ready.”

  “Great. Where’s the bill?”

  Lucas scanned the table and benches, then checked on the floor beneath. “I’ll ask at the register.”

  Gwen led the way and stopped behind an older couple getting change. She slid her coat on as they waited, butterflies swooping in her core. Her nerves burned, hyperaware of Lucas’s nearness and the way he made her feel when he looked at her like she wasn’t permanently broken. She longed to reach for him again, hungry for the physical contact and proof she wasn’t alone.

  He smiled at the cashier as the older couple moved away, then explained where he’d been seated and requested the bill.

  The younger woman smiled politely, then tapped on the register.

  Gwen winced as the familiar tingles of paranoia lifted the fine hairs on her arms and neck. She scanned the room in search of someone looking her way, but the lively crowd was lost to itself, tuned in to a hundred different conversations that had nothing to do with her or her problems.

  “It looks like your bill has been paid,” the cashier said brightly.

  “What?” Lucas asked. “By who?”

  The uneasy sensation of being watched rode over Gwen’s skin once more, and she clutched on to Lucas’s sleeve for support.

  “Are you sure you’ve got the right table?” Lucas asked, a clear measure of disbelief in his tone. “We were alone in the corner booth.”

  “Positive,” the cashier said pertly. “There’s even a note in the register’s memo. Must’ve been a friend. It says, ‘Welcome Home.’”

  Chapter Four

  Lucas felt his jaw lock and his senses heighten. He reached for Gwen on instinct, setting a protective palm over her hand, resting on his sleeve. “Can you remember what the person who paid this bill looked like?” he asked, reaching into his pocket for the badge he rarely went anywhere without. “This is important, so think carefully.” He presented the badge, and the cashier’s eyes widened.

  “No. It wasn’t me,” she said.

  “Then who?” Lucas demanded. If he had a chance at finding this alleged friend, time was of the essence, and the cashier was wasting his.

  “Uhm.” She stared nervously at the cash register’s computer screen, her round cheeks going red under pressure. “It was Thomas. Server nineteen.” She looked up proudly and clearly relieved. “We use our codes to access the register.”

  “Where’s Thomas now?” Lucas asked. “I need to speak with him.”

  “Okay.” The young woman backed away from the register and rose onto her toes. “He usually covers the back.”

  Gwen stepped closer, then sucked in a ragged breath, as if she’d temporarily forgotten to breathe.

  “There!” the cashier said. “Tall. Black hair. Brown eyes.” She thrust a hand over her head and waved. “Thomas!”

  Lucas leaned his head closer to Gwen’s while he tracked Thomas visually through the room. “You’re all right,” he promised her. “I’ve got you.”

  She nodded quickly and seemed to struggle to swallow.

  Lucas flashed his badge again as Thomas approached.

  The server was lean and young, likely just old enough to handle the alcohol he served. He’d threaded his way through the crowd with eas
e and agility. An athlete, likely. And based on his posture and expression, a cocky one.

  Thomas cast a wary gaze at the girl behind the counter. “What’s up?” he asked, dragging his attention from her to Lucas. “I do something wrong?”

  “No.” Lucas motioned to the register. “I’d like a description of the person who paid our bill.”

  Thomas stepped around to the register and examined the screen. “Corner booth. Sliders and fries.” He looked up with a frown. “Sorry, man. I barely looked at that guy.”

  Not surprising on a night as busy as this. “How long ago did he pay?” Lucas asked. “Was it in cash? Did he use a card?” Lucas nearly snorted at the absurdity. If the bill-payer was up to no good, as suspected, he wouldn’t have used a credit card. Unless it was stolen, or the user was stupid. Lucas wasn’t that lucky.

  And if they were truly dealing with Gwen’s attacker, he wasn’t that stupid.

  “He gave me cash,” Thomas said, projecting his voice above the crowd. “Maybe ten minutes ago. Told me to keep the change. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t, and it’s crazy busy. Now, if you’ll—”

  “No,” Lucas said, widening his stance and pressing his palm onto the counter between them. “I need a description of the man who paid this bill. You can tell me here or at the station.”

  Thomas smacked his lips. “Man, I didn’t do anything wrong, but I’m about to be fired if I—”

  “Get arrested?” Lucas asked. “Please, check the time stamp. I want to know how long ago this man was here. Did you see him leave?”

  Thomas shook his head, forcing his attention back to the register. “Says seven twelve, and no, I didn’t see him leave. In case you haven’t noticed, this place is packed. I’m barely keeping up, and leaving my area to come up here and pay your bill pulled me away from my tables. Now, I’m up here again, and I can’t help you.”

  Lucas glanced at his watch. Thomas had handled the bill nearly twenty minutes ago. Long enough for the person to be out of town by now. “Take a look around,” Lucas said, scanning the bar. “Do you see him? Was he with anyone when you spoke to him?”

  Thomas looked slowly around, his agitation turning to defeat. “Nah, man. I don’t see him. He was alone near the dartboard in back when he stopped me. I was rushing past with a big order. He put a wad of cash on my tray, told me what he wanted me to do and I agreed. That was it. I served the table, then came up here to pay your bill. After that, I got back to work. There’s nothing else to tell.”

  “He stopped you,” Lucas repeated, “gave you more work to do, a task that wasn’t your job and paid with a large sum of cash, but you can’t tell me what he looked like? You don’t know if he was Black or white? Hispanic or Asian? Short? Tall? Young? Old?”

  “He was old, all right?” Thomas said. “Probably thirty. He looked like all of you, decked out in our gear, coming back here for homecoming and trying to relive your college years.”

  Lucas sucked his teeth and forced himself not to argue that he was twenty-eight, not thirty, and neither age was old. Unless you were twenty-one, he supposed. He took another look at the crush of bodies in the popular pub. Thomas was right. At least half were clearly over twenty-five and most were wearing Bellemont College colors or jerseys. They really did all look alike. He tipped his head to motion Thomas away from the register. “Got any security cameras in here?”

  “Yeah.” He lifted a finger to indicate a single unit above the cash register. A place the man who paid their bill had been careful not to go.

  “Thanks,” Lucas said, passing Thomas a few bucks for his time. Lucas had waited tables once, too, and he knew how important tips were to survival.

  Gwen’s grip on his arm loosened, and she backed away. “What now?” she asked, shoving her hands into her pockets.

  “Now, we get you home,” Lucas said, scanning the crowd for anyone who seemed especially interested in them. “There’s no one else to talk to here. We know whoever paid our bill didn’t go to the register. And I’ve got no description, other than old.” He slid a sideways look in her direction, and her lips curved up on one side.

  “I don’t think you’re old,” she said.

  “That’s because I’ve only got a year on you.” He left his card on the counter with the cashier, then led Gwen back onto the sidewalk. “I think you should stay at my place tonight,” he said, once they were free of the music and gonging mashup of sounds.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I have work tomorrow morning, and I never miss. The last thing I need is to alert anyone at the office that something might be wrong.”

  He stifled the urge to remind her that something was definitely wrong, and she had no reason to try to hide it. “Then you should consider letting me stay with you. Either way, I don’t think you should be alone tonight. We’ve confirmed you’re being followed, and I’m willing to bet this guy isn’t overjoyed to see you with another man, or a cop. Since I check both of those boxes, there could be a problem.”

  Gwen shivered. “We can go to my house.”

  Lucas drove Gwen back to the police station parking lot, then followed her home at precisely the speed limit. Him in his new extended cab black pickup with a local PD sticker in the window. Her in her nondescript, plain as hell gray sedan. They turned off the main road through her town and into an older neighborhood with compact, nearly utilitarian homes lining each side of every street. Cookie-cutter boxes with postage-stamp yards and limited privacy, short of shutting all the blinds.

  Gwen’s home was sandwiched between two white single-story cottages on a cul-de-sac. Hers was a cheery yellow number with white shutters, a red door and security cameras everywhere.

  She pulled into the attached one-car garage, then motioned him to follow once he’d parked in the drive.

  She ducked her head shyly when he met her in the small space, then pressed a button on the wall, closing the garage door before unlocking the door to her home.

  Gwen turned the lock on the knob behind them, then flipped two dead bolts and secured a chain before entering a code to stop the wailing security alarm. She waited, frozen, staring at the screen until a row of green numbers appeared beside the word SECURE.

  With the alarm silenced, Gwen headed for the kitchen. “Can I get you something? Water or coffee?”

  “Water is fine,” he said, taking a turn around the home’s living space.

  The decor was simple and tidy. White everything, with an occasional blue-patterned pillow, strategically placed silver centerpiece or a leafy green plant to break up the monotony. The result was attractive, intentional and devoid of personality. Like a magazine cover. Staged, but not lived in.

  Each room opened to the next in a typical, continuous plan. The kitchen flowed into an eating space that spilled left into a family room and right into a formal dining area, which Gwen had set up as an office. The living room and office were connected by a small foyer and hall which he assumed led to the bedrooms. “You have a nice place.”

  “Thank you.”

  The sounds of cupboard doors, clinking glasses and jostling ice cubes drifted through the space to his ears.

  “Everything here is original,” she called. “It’s got good bones, and I knew I had to have it the moment the Realtor pulled into the drive. The place needed a lot of TLC back then, but I’ve been diligent. Refinishing woodwork, repairing crown molding, cabinets and floors. Pretty much anything the previous owners didn’t get to. It’s been a great experience, and I’m nearly done.”

  Lucas nodded to himself as he returned to her. Home restoration was a great way to pass a lot of time alone. “You were going to be an engineer,” he said, watching as she approached, a glass in each hand.

  “Life happened,” she said, remorsefully. “I was going to be a lot of things.”

  Like his wife, he thought, uselessly angry again at what the actions of one
monster had done to two futures. “Thanks.” He accepted the water and sipped.

  Gwen returned to the kitchen and stopped at an old landline telephone and answering machine combo. She pressed a blinking button on the answering machine, and a mechanical voice announced two new messages.

  “Hello,” a female voice greeted. “This is Dr. Maslow’s office calling to confirm your appointment—”

  Gwen pressed another button, moving quickly to the next message.

  “Hey. Gwen. It’s Collin,” a friendly man’s voice said. “I was thinking about that rain check and wondering what you think of dinner at—”

  Gwen interrupted the second message like the first. She glanced at Lucas, looking suddenly as uncomfortable in her home as she had in the bar.

  “You keep a landline?” Lucas asked. “Not a popular convention these days.” Though he suspected he knew why it appealed to Gwen. Landlines were more reliable than cell phones when calling for emergency services, and a cell signal blocker couldn’t stop a landline call. For someone still recovering emotionally from an attack, like Gwen clearly was, a secondary form of communication probably seemed wise. Comforting, at least.

  Her cell phone hadn’t helped her before.

  “The landline came with the house.” She shrugged. “It’s convenient and always charged. Plus I never have to go hunting for it.”

  “All true,” Lucas said, then watched as her smile faded, having never truly reached her eyes.

  “And the security system uses it.”

  He set his water aside, thoughts running back to the messages that had been waiting for her. “You have a doctor’s appointment. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Therapist,” she said softly. “I started seeing someone again a few weeks ago when the feelings of being watched grew unusually persistent. I thought I was relapsing. It was scary.”

  “Understandable,” Lucas said. “You were smart to set up the appointments. Everyone needs someone to talk to.” He tried not to wonder who her confidant was now, and if she talked to the man from the messages the way she used to talk to him.