High-Caliber Holiday. Susan Sleeman
car with the remote. When I opened the door, I found two roses lying in an X pattern and sitting on top of a white linen envelope.”
Likely another picture. “This X pattern mean anything to you?”
She shook her head.
“And the envelope?”
“I didn’t open it. I was too afraid.” She was shaking, and looked like she’d melt to the floor.
He took her elbow and moved her to a chair. She looked up at him, seeming small and defenseless.
He wanted to rail at the injustice heaped on her head, but he held it together by shoving his hands into his pockets. “Did you notice anything else?
She stared off into the distance. “The windows weren’t broken or the doors jimmied. I guess he could have used one of those bar things I see on TV shows, but since my key is on the same ring as my apartment key, he likely made a copy of that one, too.” She paused and chewed on her lip for a moment.
“Anyone else have your car key? Do you keep a spare set hidden somewhere?”
“Just at my parents. No other spare set.”
“Have you checked with them to see if anyone stole the keys overnight?”
“I called my mom right after you. They’re still in the drawer.” She looked like she wanted to add something but stared over his shoulder instead.
He followed her gaze through the street level window. “Which vehicle is yours?”
“I’ll show you.” She started to rise.
“No.” He stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You stay here. It’s safer.”
She jerked free and cast him a defiant look. She was suddenly all fire and passion, much like last night. He watched, enjoying the metamorphosis from timid victim to fierce warrior and waited for her to refuse his directive. He didn’t like the thought of her rushing out onto the street, but he respected her determination in the face of danger.
She kept eye contact with him for a long while until she finally sighed, her agitation disappearing with it. She dug her keys from a leather briefcase, then handed them to him. “It’s the blue BMW. Three cars behind your truck.” Panic returned to her eyes.
So she’d let her fear take over enough that she’d been watching for his arrival. A protective feeling surged to the surface and the urge to touch her was strong. She needed reassurance. Needed to know that he’d be there for her. Any hour of the day. The minute she called.
Not a good idea. She should call Rossi instead.
Brady shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled to ease her fear. “You hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
Outside, he fought through the biting wind as he passed his truck to get to the sleek BMW. Talk about contrasts. Battered and rusty from Minnesota winters, his pickup was on its last legs. Her Beemer, a metallic blue coupe that Brady recognized as the top-of-the-line, was polished and shiny. Of course.
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