“Noah, why are you asking these questions?” I asked with a frown. “It had to be Josh. Who else could it be? We know the son of one of my clients—”
“We know the son of one of your clients left the note on your door,” Noah interrupted. “Why would somebody leave a note on your door, go away, then come back the next day to trash the place? You weren’t home when the note was left. Why not just do it then, if that’s what he wanted to do?”
“You’re saying you don’t think Josh broke into my place.” I gaped at him curiously.
“I’m not saying that,” Noah quickly replied. “I’m saying I don’t know. I’m saying it doesn’t add up. It doesn’t feel quite right.”
“But who else would want to do that? It’s not like I have a bunch of enemies running around.” Fear stabbed me in the gut. The whole thing had been upsetting enough when I was sure Josh was behind it. But if Josh wasn’t the culprit, it could be anybody. Why would somebody want to break into my apartment? Why would they trash it and leave without stealing anything? There could only be one motive for that kind of behavior—whoever it was had been trying to scare me. I understood why Josh would want to scare me but could honestly think of no one else who had motive to do so.
“Noah,” I whispered, my head suddenly spinning.
His hands landed on my shoulders, warm and steadying. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You’re safe here, okay? It doesn’t matter who it was right now, because they won’t find you here. And you can stay with me until the cops get their hands on this person and you feel ready to go home. Everything will be all right.”
I wasn’t so sure.
I had to admit that what Noah was saying made sense. The idea of Josh dropping by, leaving a note, and then coming back the next day with a wrecking crew was weird. Josh wasn’t the kind of guy to carefully plan an attack on someone’s home. He was the kind of guy to spot an opportunity and go for it without thinking.
Noah’s hand slid down the length of my arm, fingertips tracing my skin, and his fingers interlaced with mine. He squeezed tightly, and I squeezed back, drawing comfort and allowing myself to luxuriate in his strength. He was right; I was safe. Nothing was going to hurt me, not in this fortress of a home, not with this strong, competent man beside me.
He turned me slowly in his arms, his eyes fixed on mine, and I felt myself weaken. Already? A voice in my head protested. You’re giving in to this already? But the voice seemed very far away. Too far away to care about. Too distant to worry about. Noah’s eyes were much closer, holding mine almost magnetically, making me feel as though I might drown in them.
I leaned in—
A door slammed.
Noah jumped backward as if he’d received an electric shock.
A split second later, Tess burst into the room, her backpack on her back and a sleeping bag in her arms. She looked from me to Noah, dropped the sleeping bag on the floor, and signed something to her father.
Noah signed back.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Sorry,” Noah said, looking rather shaken. He began to speak along with the movement of his hands. “I was just telling Tess that you’re going to be staying with us—in our guest room—for a while because of some damage at your apartment.” He shot me a quick glance, silently asking me to stick to the story.
This was too complicated. There was no potential for a relationship here if we had to keep it a secret from his daughter. I could completely understand why Noah wouldn’t want Tess to know about anything that had happened between us. Who knew whether she was emotionally ready for her father to move on?
Better I keep my distance. Better not to get involved at all.
“Can you show me to the guest room?” I asked. “I’d like to lie down.”
But what I really wanted was to get away.
Chapter 21
Noah
Leaving for work that morning had been difficult. Jenna had all but pushed me out the front door of my house. “I’m absolutely fine,” she’d insisted. “I’ve got my phone if I need anything. I can call you or the police if anything weird happens, or Sara if I get lonely.”
“I’m not sure you should be on your own,” I’d protested. “You were so upset yesterday.”
She was quiet for a moment but literally shook herself. “Go to work,” she’d said finally. “I’ll see you tonight. I won’t be responsible for disrupting your life. If it’s gonna be like that, I’ll have to leave.”
The last thing I wanted was for her to leave, so I’d gone, reluctantly. She did have her phone. I could text and call her as many times as I wanted to.
I still hadn’t contacted the police about the LM card I’d found in Jenna’s apartment. They would come up with something on their own. But that was no real justification. The card would mean nothing to anyone who didn’t already know about LM. The police would probably assume it belonged to Jenna, or that someone she knew had given it to her, or else they would have bagged it as evidence. Why would a vandal leave a calling card? It was too easy.
Which was exactly why it was so brilliant.
No, I couldn’t count on them figuring it out. I would have to tell them myself. But how could I? LM had made it clear that he had an eye on all my comings and goings. I had no idea how extensive his ability to watch me was. Were my phone lines tapped? What about my email account? What safe means of communication were still open to me? How could I communicate with the police other than going straight to the nearest station while someone was likely tailing me?
“Mr. Clark, are you even listening to this?”
I blinked, focusing. The meeting in which I sat had been going on for over an hour. A group of my most difficult and demanding investors were grouped around the table, each of them looking at me through narrowed eyes as if they knew I wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to what they were saying.
I’d had enough of them for the day.
“I’m sorry, everyone,” I announced, getting to my feet. “We’re going to have to reschedule this meeting.”
“Excuse me?” The man at the head of the table, Mr. Kepler, got to his feet as well. Kepler was short and extremely stout, with thick dark hair that I doubted was real. He took a few steps toward me, a move that struck me as comical. What was he doing? Did he think he could intimidate me?
“Something urgent has come up,” I announced. “I’m so very sorry. I’ll have my secretary get in touch with your people to set something up.”
“We’re not leaving,” Kepler grouched. “We’re some of this firm’s biggest clients, Mr. Clark, and we know perfectly well what we’re worth. So we’re all going to stay right here until you figure out how to help us with our issue. Is that clear?” He stared haughtily at me.
“You’re welcome to stay,” I offered somewhat sarcastically. “But I’ll be leaving.”
I didn’t have it in me to fight with them. I needed to get back to my office. Once there, I could call Jenna to make sure she was okay. Then I could go over the emails I’d received from LM. Maybe there was a clue, something that would help me figure out how they were watching me. And if I could figure that out, I could contact the police without putting Jenna or Tess at further risk.
“If you walk out of this room,” Kepler threatened, “we’ll take our business elsewhere.”
“That’s your prerogative,” I agreed with a nod. “If you think there’s a firm that will do as well for you as Clark Industries has, I wish you luck finding them.” I knew perfectly well there wasn’t. Ours was the best firm in the country, certainly on the eastern seaboard. Kepler wouldn’t be able to find anyone else. He was all talk.
I left the conference room and hurried to my office, but I didn’t turn on the light. I was developing a bit of a headache, probably from the stress and worry of the past few days. I thought I might lay down on the couch for a few minutes and see if I could relax a bit.
I stomped to my couch and found somebody already
lying on it. “Eric?” I stared. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He squinted up at me. “Turn off the lights.”
“The lights are off. What are you doing in my office?”
“Fuck, stop yelling, I can’t...shit.” He pressed his hands over his face. “Is my dad out there?”
“Is your dad out there? In my office? Of course not.” I put my hands on my hips, feeling a little like a scolding mother. “Eric, are you high?”
“Shut up, will you? People will hear you.”
“God, Eric. There’s nobody here. And you can’t get high and come to my office. What the hell are you thinking?”
“Just let me take a nap,” he begged, as if I were being completely unreasonable.
“Get up,” I growled, nudging him. When he ignored me, I asked, “Why did you come here?”
He mumbled under his breath, almost as if he was embarrassed. “I need to borrow some money.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m not helping you buy drugs, Eric.”
“No, that’s not why, I don’t want—”
“Okay,” I said. “Yeah, I think you should take a nap. Why don’t you crash on my couch, and I’ll take you home in a few hours.”
Eric flung his head back against the cushion dramatically, as if to tell me I was the biggest drain on his life imaginable. As if he hadn’t just been asking to take a nap a few seconds ago. I did my best to ignore the theatrics. At least he wasn’t the type to get angry or hostile when he was high, just kind of pouty and paranoid. I could deal with paranoia. As for pouting—well, I did have a preteen daughter.
Of course, she’d never given me a hard time. Maybe I was just getting my due.
I went to the water cooler to get Eric some water, and by the time I returned he was sawing logs. That snore would make it hard to get anything done. I probably wouldn’t get anything done today anyway—I was too worried about Jenna to focus.
And this whole incident raised another question. What the hell was I going to do about Eric? Not just today, but in the long run?
I couldn’t ignore the fact that he had a drug problem when faced with all this evidence. Getting high in the middle of the day, coming into my place of work and passing out on my couch, asking for money. And where would he have gone if he hadn’t come to me? Who would he have asked for help? A friend who fed his habit? His dealer? Or maybe he didn’t have a safe place to go at all.
I wanted to get him in rehab. That was the answer. I didn’t think I’d rest easy unless I knew someone was watching him at all hours, making sure he got the drugs out of his system and didn’t get into trouble. But would a rehab center even take him? As far as I was aware, there were two ways to get into rehab—being ordered by a judge to go or voluntarily admitting oneself. Eric might be in trouble, but he wasn’t on trial, and I couldn’t see him checking himself in voluntarily. He won’t get sober until he decides he wants to.
Of course, I did have a fair bit of money I could throw at the problem. Maybe if I offered to make a big donation to a rehab facility, they’d take him. If I could get him in and they could get him sober, we could go from there…
No, it wouldn’t work. Even if I could persuade a facility to take him against his will, they’d have to let him out eventually. And as soon as they did, I was pretty sure he’d go right back to the drugs.
I had to talk to him. That was the only way. I would have to convince him that he needed help. If I could make him see what he was doing to his life, maybe he’d be willing to make a change.
I went to his side and set the cup of water down on a little table, pushing it close to him. “There’s water here, Eric,” I murmured, resting a hand on his arm, not sure how deeply asleep he was. “You should try to drink some of it, if you can.”
He didn’t reach for the water, but he did roll onto his side, mumbling a little. And as he moved, something slipped out of his shirt pocket and onto the ground. A navy blue business card.
I bent to pick it up, my heart hammering before I even touched the thing. I didn’t need to look. I understood exactly what it was the moment I saw it. But I had to be sure. Because it couldn’t be. Eric—my best friend Eric—couldn’t possibly have this card.
But he did.
I flipped it over and saw the sheen of the now familiar initials. LM.
What did this mean? Was Eric being threatened? Had he been marked somehow, the way Jenna had, targeted as a way of intimidating me?
Or was the truth something more sinister?
I had to know. Never mind the fact that he was high and needed to sleep. Never mind the fact that I’d been worried about him just a minute earlier. I shook him roughly. “Eric. Wake up.”
He jerked awake, swatting at his face as if he was being attacked by gnats.
“Sit up,” I snapped, but I didn’t wait for him to comply. I jerked him into an upright position and held the card in front of his face. “What the hell is this?”
He squinted, trying to focus. “What...what’s what?”
“This card.” I slapped it down against the table, causing his water to spill. I was surprised at my own sudden rage, but just looking at that card brought back memories of the burly man sitting in a bar threatening my daughter and Jenna. “What the fuck is this, Eric? Who gave this to you?”
“Man, what are you talking about?” Eric mumbled, squinting up at me. “Why are you yelling? I thought you were going to let me sleep.”
“You’re fucking sauced. And God only knows what else you’re on. I can’t believe you thought it was appropriate to come here.” I couldn’t believe I was going to let him stay. I couldn’t believe that a minute and a half ago I was worried about how I was going to help him. He was carrying LM’s card, and now he was dodging my questions. That was enough to convince me something shady was going on. I pointed towards the door and snapped, “Get out of my office.”
“Dude—” He stared around the room, confused.
“Out!”
Eric continued to stare at me, so I grabbed him by his collar, dragged him to the door, and tossed him out. He didn’t resist; he was weak and pliant, and his muscles were probably atrophied from all the drug use. What a fucking mess.
“Make sure he leaves or have security escort him out,” I told my secretary.
I shut the door behind him, locked it, and returned to my desk, picking up the card along the way. It was time to get help with this. Whatever was going on, whoever LM was and whatever he wanted, I was ready to admit that I was in over my head.
I picked up the phone. My finger hovered over the call button for the police station—
But I couldn’t press it. What if Eric was working with LM? A guy like Eric, a guy with an addiction, would be really easy to control. LM could get him to do whatever he wanted. Even bug my office.
Calling the police might not be safe. Slowly, I returned the phone to the cradle. But there was another call I might be able to make without tipping my hand too far. I picked up the phone again and dialed a number.
“Hello?” a gruff voice answered.
“Paul? It’s Noah. Noah Clark.”
“Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
He hadn’t heard from me in two years, actually. Paul was a private investigator. After my wife’s death, I’d unwisely asked him to investigate the doctor assigned to her care, to see whether I could blame my loss on the man. It turned out to be a dead end, and I regretted it afterward. That poor doctor had done everything he could. But I’d been looking for someone to hold accountable since I couldn’t fight a disease.
“I’ve got another job for you,” I said. “If you’re available.”
“Well, sure,” Paul answered. “You paid well. Who’s the target?”
“Jenna Robertson and Eric Butler.”
“We looking for anything in particular?”
“Just patterns of behavior. Activities.” I didn’t dare mention LM. That might trigger suspicion if anyone was listening. But if LM was meetin
g with Eric, or if he was habitually around Jenna, Paul would likely notice.
“You worried these two are having an affair?” Paul asked.
“What? No,” I scoffed.
“Gotta ask. Most of the jobs I get, they’re something like that.”
“No, I don’t think they’re having an affair. But I wouldn’t mind knowing who they see. And who sees them.”
“You got it,” Paul agreed. “I’ll get back to you in a few days with preliminary findings.”
I hung up the phone, my heart sinking like a stone. A few days? I was running out of time. Could Eric have been behind the attack on Jenna’s apartment?
Was the woman I might have feelings for be in danger from the man I considered my best friend?
Chapter 22
Jenna
I woke up on Tuesday morning to find that a large sum of money had been digitally transferred into my PayPal account.
Grandma Susie’s inheritance. I knew there was money included with the studio, but I hadn’t realized how much. I felt a shiver of anticipation come over me. I had expected, somehow, that I would have to go another nine rounds with my mother before the money would be released to me, but she’d clearly decided to go ahead and give me what my grandmother had promised. I could only assume it meant she would be handing over the deed to the apartment as well. Finally, my career as a designer would be able to flourish!
All I needed was a steady client base, and now that I had the funds, I could properly advertise my business. I could buy Facebook ads, maybe even a TV spot. But it was hard to think about putting my attention on anything but the recent break in.
And Noah. He never seemed to have any trouble capturing my imagination.
I dressed quickly and made up the guest room bed, then headed downstairs. So far, Noah and I had been successful at sticking to our own spaces, but it had been hard. I was always hyper aware of his presence in the house, almost as if I could sense him. I was attuned to him. The sounds he made were louder than anything else, and he seemed to be the brightest thing in any room.
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