Everywhere She Goes. Janice Kay Johnson
McAllister, new in the Office of Community Development.”
Two hours later, she was struggling to hold on to her expression of eager, or even polite, interest. She had been introduced at the beginning and received with reasonable cordiality. From that point on, much of the discussion concerned possible alterations to the noise ordinance. The citizens who did appear mostly wanted to hog the microphone as they vented about a neighbor’s barking dog or teenagers who were apparently free to party until all hours almost nightly. Nobody showed up to say, “Screw the ordinance! I have a constitutional right to make all the racket I want!” A police captain named Brian Cooper droned on with statistics relating to noise violations and possible repercussions should the projected change be voted through. Cait couldn’t decide if he was really that boring or whether he was trying to put everyone to sleep. To prevent a vote? she wondered, momentarily amused. She’d have to ask Colin about him.
Cait found herself surreptitiously watching Mayor Chandler. Patience was not one of his virtues, it appeared. Expressions flowed across his face—disbelief and exasperation alternated with the expected boredom. He eventually started either making notes or doodling. Cait leaned toward the doodling explanation.
Once he lifted his head unexpectedly, and his eyes met hers. They stared at each other for long enough to excite comment if anyone had been paying attention. There was an openness in his eyes and, she was afraid, in hers, as if they hadn’t had time to shield themselves. Even so, she wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking. She discovered, when he suddenly turned his head, that she must have quit breathing. She hoped the gasp wasn’t obvious when she sucked in air.
She probably should have lingered when the meeting ended, but she couldn’t make herself.
Oh, God. I shouldn’t have taken this job, she realized as she fled. She couldn’t keep dodging Noah. She either had to get inured to him, or...she didn’t know.
Joining a cluster of five people who got on the elevator together, she pushed the button for the parking garage and watched as someone else did for the lobby. There was no conversation; everyone stared politely straight ahead.
She stood aside when the doors opened at the lobby. To her dismay, everyone but her got off. As the doors shut, she weighed the possibility of going back up and hovering until the next group was ready to depart. Nothing but the city council meeting had been happening tonight. The lot would be deserted.
But the doors were already opening, and she saw that the space was well lit. With relatively few cars left, there weren’t a lot of places for anyone to hide. Nonetheless, she reached in her purse for both her car keys and her pepper spray.
She walked confidently, heels striking on the cement floor. She had the passing thought that four-inch heels were not a good choice for a woman alone this late in the evening. Unless, of course, she took one off and used it as a weapon.
Picturing herself brandishing a pink high heel in self-defense almost made her smile.
No dark figures stepped out from between parked cars. She reached her Mazda unscathed and was dropping the pepper spray back into her purse when she saw the rear window. A lopsided heart speared by a huge arrow had been drawn on it in some kind of greasy red paint.
Shocked, she stopped, her gaze involuntarily surveying first her surroundings again, then the rest of her car. Dear God, what was that on the windshield? A crack? Or...?
She backed up, peeked around her car to be sure no one hid there, then took one slow step at a time until she could see what had happened to the windshield.
The same smeary red paint had been used to write in foot-tall letters:
MISS ME YET?
“Is something wrong?” a man asked from behind her.
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