Sean shook his head as he looked around the apartment. He’d never met anyone as impulsive as Dakota. So fiery. So jackrabbit-like, jumping into situations before she looked at all the angles and possibilities. She might be a lot of things, including stubborn and flighty, but she wasn’t timid, that was for sure. And she sure knew how to stir up a guy in all the right ways.
But he couldn’t waste any more time thinking about that. He marched into the bedroom and reached for the back port on the laptop. He’d left the flash drive plugged in there; he was almost certain.
Except he hadn’t.
“Where the fuck is it?” Sean checked the laptop again and came up empty. Maybe it had fallen out? He got down on his knees and scanned under the bed. He went through Dakota’s closets and ran his fingers under every cushion in the place. Nothing.
“I burned everything.”
“Come on. You didn’t.”
“I got rid of it all. That’s the same thing.”
Jesus Christ. Had she really? He took a minute to slow down and look around again. Maybe she hadn’t been lying. Maybe she’d found the flash drive and tossed it after all. Judging from the fresh garbage bags in every can in the place, he figured that was a likely possibility. Shit. Could he go through the dumpster out back without raising suspicion from the nextdoor neighbors? Doubtful.
He saw empty spaces on her walls and bulletin boards, and when he checked the medicine cabinet in her bathroom, he saw nothing but tampons and Lady Speed Stick. She’d gone through the place like a whirling dervish before she left. He ran a finger over the fractured bathroom mirror. Then he collapsed onto the couch and gritted his teeth.
Big mistake, Murphy. About to become bigger if you can’t find that damn flash drive.
He stood and paced, doing his best to avoid the shards of glass on the floor. He hadn’t watched the video clip right away. It was only later on, after Dakota slipped off to sleep, that he’d plugged the drive into her laptop and sat in the bathroom with the door locked. Forty-five seconds or so of video, and much of it fuzzy. But the camera had caught his own face clearly enough and zoomed in to catch his hands grabbing onto Tommy’s shoulders and shaking. Hard. The volume was muted, but when he listened a second time, he could hear a few of his words as well. His threats.
...trying to rip me off...
...won’t be anyone to keep you outta jail this time...
...thought we had an understanding...
Sean shook his head. He’d been too eager that night, too distracted. He’d needed a fix worse than ever. When he thought Tommy was pulling a fast one, trying to jack up the price and sell him a half-assed product, he let the middle-aged dealer know just who he was trying to scam. But if he’d looked over his shoulder for two seconds, he would’ve seen the kid, the kid who should have been at work or at home in front of a video game, not out trolling Little Lakeside’s streets aiming his phone at the police chief.
Sean rubbed his temples. All he’d done was shove the guy around, leave him lying in a pile of papers and trash and half-empty beer bottles. He was breathing when I left. I know he was. Problem was, Tommy turned up dead the next morning.
Bleeding on the brain, the coroner said. Maybe got into a fight with some other dealer. Or he could’ve fallen down and knocked himself out. Guy with a liver that wrecked didn’t have much longer, anyway. Sean had thanked Doc Hadley for his expert opinion, filed the necessary reports and given a brief interview to the local paper summarizing the likely cause of death as accidental.
But Sean was pretty sure no accident had caused Tommy‘s skull to fill with blood. And now some stupid kid, with some stupid piece of video evidence, could prove it.
He punched the arm of the couch. He’d left the flash drive here. He knew that much. But he’d searched every corner and turned up nothing. So where the hell could it be? Had Dakota tossed it into that oversized purse and taken it with her to Memphis? He felt nauseated. He needed to destroy that file. Today. He needed to know it was erased from the planet. He glanced at his watch.
She’d probably hang up on him again. He picked up his phone and dialed. One ring. Two.
“I told you not to call me.”
Above faint boarding calls and security announcements in the background, he could hear the wobbly control in her voice, the edge she fought to keep.
“Babe, I need your help. I just gotta ask you one question.”
“Forget it.”
“I left a flash drive at your place.” Sean swallowed. Could he pretend it was something he needed for work? Could he ask her to destroy it or trust her not to look at it? His stomach turned to jelly.
“That computer stick thing?”
“Did you find it?”
“Plugged into my laptop, yeah.”
He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or terrified.
“You’re lucky I didn’t just toss it.” She made some kind of noise, a chuckle of disdain. “Whatever. It’s in my purse, so you can’t have it. I’ll mail it or something. When I get back.”
Sean opened his mouth and tried to keep his voice steady. Nonchalant. As if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. “Actually, you can just get rid of it.”
For a moment she said nothing. “Why? What’s on it?” Suspicion colored her voice, and he winced. Damn woman’s intuition.
“Nothin’. Just old files.”
“Then why did you want to come over and get it today? Why did you call me to see if I had it?”
“I just...” How was he supposed to answer that?
“Is it something good, Sean? Something I should look at and post online for everyone to see?”
Shit. Why had he called her in the first place? Why hadn’t he just left her alone and assumed she’d never even look at it?
“Go to hell,” Dakota said before he could respond. Without another word, she hung up.
Sean sank back against the couch cushions, stunned. His face grew hot, and it was all he could do not to put his fist through the wall of her living room. He hit redial immediately. After four rings, her voicemail picked up. “Hi, you’ve reached Dakota’s cell. Leave me a message and I’ll call you right back.”
“Damn it!” He threw the phone across the room, where it hit the doorframe and bounced to the floor, leaving a black mark. How had he gotten so damn careless? How was it possible that a single computer file that could ruin his career was headed halfway across the country?
Sean’s gaze dropped to the cell phone still lying on the floor, and his thumb twitched.
An idea.
A chance.
He rubbed his chin. Could he pull it off? Maybe. The town board meeting was thirty-six hours away. That gave him enough time to hop a plane to Memphis, track down Dakota, and sweet-talk her into handing over the flash drive. She’d melt if she knew he’d gone all that way to kiss and make up. That’s what I’ll tell her, anyway.
With any luck, he’d be back in New Hampshire before tomorrow afternoon. He’d destroy the video file, or better yet, find someone to doctor it. Sean nodded as the thought took shape inside his head. He could get his hands on pictures of the kid. He could find someone to splice in the kid’s image over his own. Technology was amazing these days. A smile cracked across his face. How perfect, to turn the tables on his accuser, to pin Tommy’s death on the very person who thought he was going to take down Little Lakeside’s police chief.
He took another minute to roll over the possibilities and cover the angles. A call to his deputy would cover the night shift. He could find Sarah’s last name and address easily enough. He had enough cash to pay for the flight, a rental car, and a room if he needed it. Though I don’t plan on staying that long.
Yep, this plan would work. Too bad it involved skipping across ten states in a matter of hours, but Sean had done worse in less time to protect his name. He pulled up the airport website one his phone and searched for the first flight he could find to Memphis.
3:00 p.m.
Da
kota turned off her phone and shaded her eyes. Tennessee sunlight filled the airport. Southern accents lilted all around her. Flight attendants chatted as they pulled their sleek black roller bags, and mothers shushed their children in honeyed tones. Even the kiosk clerks smiled as they rang up purchases. The entire Memphis International Airport hummed with contentment.
Sure is different from New Hampshire, she thought. No guarded faces. No people rushing here and there, staring at the ground or their phones and running to beat the clock. I’ve stepped onto a different planet.
“D!” Sixty inches of energy, topped by a mass of blonde curls, popped through the crowd and grabbed Dakota around the neck.
“Sarah, hi.” She dropped her pack and hugged her best friend back, hard. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“Of course. I can’t believe you’re here!” Sarah stepped back and studied her. “What did you do to your hair?”
“Cut it.”
“When?”
“I don’t know...over a year ago?”
“Has it been that long since I’ve been home?”
“I think it’s been close to two.”
“God, time flies, doesn’t it?” Sarah motioned outside. “But if you were me, would you leave this place just to see snow and gray for six months out of the year?”
Dakota grinned. “Probably not.”
Sarah linked her arm through Dakota’s and led her around the rows of plastic chairs, down the escalator, toward the exit.
“So where’s this guy?” Dakota asked.
“Gunnar? He’s waiting in the car.”
“So tell me about him.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Please.”
“I’m serious.” Sarah shrugged. “We met last fall when he moved into one of the apartments downstairs. Started talking one day in the parking lot, and that was it. We’re really good friends, and he’s great to have around.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a doctor. A pediatrician, actually.”
“But nothing’s going on?”
“I don’t have time for a boyfriend. I’m taking all those night classes.”
“Right. The paralegal thing.”
“It’s not a ‘thing’. It’s a really good job. Or it will be, when I finish.”
They stepped through the sliding glass exit doors and headed for the melting temperatures outside. Crossing the short-term parking lot, they wound through rows of cars and SUVs to where a late-model Mercedes sat idling. Not a nick or a scratch anywhere on the maroon paint. Not even a streak of dust along the fenders or on the wheels.
As they approached, the driver’s side door opened, and out stepped one of the tallest men Dakota had ever seen. In the bright sun, his shaved head shone like a purple-black globe. Wrap-around sunglasses covered his eyes. The thin outline of a scar, barely noticeable, ran along his jaw line and up to his ear. A blazing white smile appeared, and muscles purred under ebony skin as he reached for her hand.
“Hi, there. I’m Gunnar Albright. Welcome to Memphis.”
Dakota leaned back to squint up—way up—at him. Startled, she realized that she’d been expecting someone different. Someone Scandinavian and a great deal shorter.
“Wow. Hi.”
He took her backpack and carry-on and tucked them into the trunk. “That’s all you have?”
She slid into the cool of the Mercedes and ran one hand over almond-colored leather. “I can only stay a couple of nights. It’s wedding season in Little Lakeside. The Candlelight is booked for the next three weeks. Nigel will flip if I don’t show up.”
“We’ll give you the abridged introduction to the city, then,” Sarah said from the front seat. Skyscrapers passed as they merged onto the highway. “We’ll go down to Beale Street tonight. You can’t come to Memphis without hitting Beale Street. And I’d say Graceland too, but...”
“I don’t have to do every touristy thing in the city,” Dakota interrupted. Just sitting outside with her best friend and a cold drink would do wonders for her mood.
“...maybe not, but we’ll definitely take you to a piano bar or one of the new clubs. Make sure you hear some good music. You’ll come, right?” Sarah said to Gunnar.
Negotiating traffic, he moved to the far right lane. “Sure. Someone has to keep an eye on you two.”
Sarah laughed as they exited the highway and turned into the drive for Country Gardens Apartment Complex. Far different from Dakota’s own studio apartment, perched above a Main Street pizzeria, these buildings sat back from the street and rose to heights of three and four stories. She counted six red brick structures with white shutters, each surrounded by flowering hedges. Smooth paved walks connected them all, and wooden benches scattered around the grounds invited company.
“Wow.” They pulled into a spot numbered fourteen, and she unfolded herself from the back seat. “This is really nice.”
“Thanks. I love it.” Sarah led the way under a curved archway, past a wooden door—“That’s Gunnar’s place”—and up a set of stairs past a cozy second-floor deck. She opened the door and swept her arms in a wide circle. “And this is home sweet home.”
Dakota dropped her pack and sank into the loveseat. Cozy. Totally Sarah-style. Crowded with posters and paintings and teapots of all shapes and sizes. Bright and clean. And best of all, far from Little Lakeside. The one-bedroom apartment embraced her as she breathed in the scents of vanilla and lavender. Maybe she’d be okay. Maybe she could get over that idiot back north who’d stomped all over her heart. If it could happen anywhere, it had to be here.
Sarah disappeared into the kitchen and then reemerged a few minutes later with three glasses of iced tea and a plate of crackers and cheese. “Okay,” she said. “Tell us the dirt.”
Dakota cradled a pillow in her arms. She didn’t really want to revisit the breakup with Sean or the fact that he was going back to his wife. Probably going back. Maybe not. But almost definitely yes. He couldn’t survive on his own. She thought about his earlier phone calls. A flash drive? Seriously? He was more concerned with some stupid computer files than her feelings.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Gunnar said.
“Oh, it’s okay.” She managed a smile. Without his sunglasses, she could see for the first time his dark, gentle eyes that scanned her face for signs of worry. He’s probably a great doctor. Serious but not worrisome, kind but reserved, the way he has to be dealing with kids and their over-involved parents.
He cocked his head and studied her as if she were a specimen under glass. “Rare.”
Dakota squirmed, knowing exactly what he was talking about.
“Only about one percent of the population has two different colored eyes,” he added.
Sarah grinned. “Yeah, she’s been using them to pick up guys since we were in junior high.”
“Oh my God, I have not.”
Sarah passed around the plate. “Please. Like having one brown eye and one blue one is not the coolest quirk in the world. It’s the perfect conversation starter.”
“Whatever.” Dakota had never felt that way. It was just one more thing that made her weird. She didn’t want people looking at her eyes. Or her hair. Or her boobs. She wanted to meet someone, just once, who didn’t notice those things at all. Who looked beneath the brown and the blue and saw the heart that beat underneath.
She shifted in the cushions and tucked her feet underneath her. “So where does the name Gunnar come from?” she asked, changing the subject. “Isn’t it Norwegian?”
“Scandinavian,” Gunnar corrected. “But yeah, it usually belongs to guys who are six inches shorter than me and allergic to the sun.” He chuckled and drained his glass.
“His grandmother was from Sweden,” Sarah interrupted. “Came over to Boston back in the twenties for a family vacation and ended up marrying a guy who worked in the hotel. Her parents went back after a month. She didn’t.” She sighed. “Isn’t that romantic?”
�
��Really?” Dakota asked.
He nodded. “True story.”
“So come on, tell us.” Sarah rattled the cubes in her empty glass. “What happened with Mr. Loverboy Cop?”
“He decided he wasn’t going to divorce his wife.”
“Figures. How long did you date him?”
“Little over a year.”
“He was separated, though, right?” Sarah refilled their glasses.
“Yeah. When I met him, he said it was just a matter of paperwork. That he’d be a free man in a couple of months.”
“That’s what they always say.” Sarah wrapped a pillow in her arms.
“Well, men don’t tend to be completely truthful, especially when the options are spending the night with a beautiful woman or going home alone to think about a wrecked marriage.”
“No kidding,” Dakota said. Of course, she’d figured that out a little too late. Fresh anger pulsed through her, heating her veins and throbbing at her temples. “But seriously, what kind of guy says he isn’t sure he wants to get divorced? After being separated for, like, three years? And after telling someone else he loves her?” Tears began to fall despite her best efforts to keep them at bay.
Sarah passed her a box of tissues. “He’s not worth it.”
“I know.” Hiccups rose and fell with her words. “But I thought Sean was...” She didn’t know. Different? Special? Everything sounded clichéd. “I always pick the wrong ones.”
The older ones. The attached ones. The ones with so much baggage. Why? She supposed a shrink would tell her it had something to do with the fact that she’d grown up minus a father. Or the fact that her mother had left town with a Portuguese artist the day Dakota turned eighteen. She scrunched her shoulders. Was she looking for security? Someone to protect her? Or did she deliberately pick the ones she knew she couldn’t have, because deep down she suspected that sooner or later, everyone left?
“Well, true, you don’t have the best track record,” Sarah said. “But that doesn’t mean the right guy isn’t waiting out there.”
Dakota tossed a wad of used tissues into the trash can. “I’m definitely swearing off married men, I can tell you that much.”
Countdown: Ethan Page 4