“Who’s that?”
“She’s the manager of the shop.” She smiled at Camille, as she picked up her credit card and hastily signed the receipt.
“So you’re still there?”
“Yes. I’m paying now.”
“This is unbelievable. I can’t believe you picked today to finally conquer your fears.”
Finally? “Dylan, what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I took time off to go by the house and you weren’t there. It means that I’ve been calling you and you didn’t pick up. It means that now I’m going to have to drive over there to get you and take you home.”
She might have some issues, but she really wasn’t used to being babied or talked down to. “I’m not a child. You don’t need to come get me. Not ever.”
He let out a big sigh. “Jennifer, Traci and I just spent the last hour caring for a woman who slid off the road and needed an ambulance. There’s no way I’m going to let you drive by yourself home in your Nissan. It doesn’t even have snow tires.”
He was starting to scare her, not that he needed to know just how much she was affected. “I’ll go slow and I’ll be careful,” she said in a soft voice. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Jennifer.”
“Um, excuse me.”
Jennifer put her hand over her phone. “Yes, Camille?”
“I think I have a solution for you getting home.”
“Yes?”
“Jack can take you.”
“Jack?”
“Yes. He’s a great driver. And before he became a remodeling contractor, he worked in the oil fields out in South Dakota. He’s used to driving in snow.”
“Thank you, but—”
“He just lives around the corner. And I know he’s home because he called me just before I went upstairs to see you. He’ll be happy to drive you home,” she said in her sweet, comforting voice. “I know it.”
She felt frozen. Everything Camille said made sense. But was she willing to get in the car with a strange man? “I . . . I’m sorry but I can’t.”
Hurt shone in Camille’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
Jennifer turned her back on the woman. “Dylan? Sorry, I’m back.”
“You sound different.” Worry edged into his tone. “What happened? Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” She walked a few steps away and lowered her voice. “Camille suggested that Jack could drive me because he has a big truck and used to work in South Dakota oil fields.”
“Who the hell is Jack?”
“Her son.”
“Do you even know his last name?”
“No.”
“Well, don’t you get in the car with him.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you. Sorry about this. I really don’t know what happened.”
She heard him mutter something under his breath. “I’m on my way. What’s the name of the store?”
“Backdoor Books.” Feeling Camille’s look of disappointment, she closed her eyes.
“Traci and I’ll be there within thirty. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now, don’t you stuff that phone in your purse, okay? Keep it someplace where you can hear it. If we get sidetracked, I want you to know what’s going on.”
“I’ll keep it handy. Thanks, Dylan.” Her voice sounded small and unsure and she hated that. “Sorry for the trouble.”
“No apologies. I’m sorry I sounded like such a jerk. See you soon,” he added before hanging up.
After pushing the button on her phone, she reluctantly turned to Camille. “My brother is a cop. He’s going to come out here to get me. He said he’d be here in about thirty minutes. I hope you don’t mind if I stay here a little longer?”
Camille’s blue eyes looked worried, but she smiled again. “Of course not, honey. You do whatever you need to do.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“How about another cup of hot tea?”
“Thanks. That . . . well, that would be really nice.” Finally relaxing, she leaned back against her chair and looked out the window.
The snowflakes were thick and heavy, clinging to the windowsills, the branches on the nearby trees, even on top of the mailbox. If she’d been home, she would be thinking about how it was beautiful.
Then she noticed a shadow standing next to her car. She blinked, sure she was seeing things. Obviously letting her imagination get the best of her.
But then the shadow moved, and she could have sworn she’d caught a glimpse of something familiar.
A chill coursed through her as all of her worst fears burst forth. She was probably letting every fear she’d ever had take control over her.
Because there was no way any of the men who’d made her life so miserable could have already gotten out of jail and started following her.
Was there?
She was afraid to find out.
CHAPTER 11
“I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.”
—E. E. Cummings
“Do I even want to know why the sergeant didn’t even blink when you said you had to drive to Montgomery to pick up your sister?” Traci asked.
Dylan glanced her way and wished that he didn’t feel so obligated to tell his sister’s whole story. But a good partnership was all about trust, and that meant that they had to be honest with each other.
He also owed Traci, because she hadn’t once suggested that he go on his own after the sergeant said that they could go get Jennifer but to make it back as soon as possible.
“A little over two years ago, my little sister was attacked by three guys on her way to her car. They beat her up good. That was where she got the scar on her face.”
Too intent on the road—and his memories—to see Traci’s reaction, Dylan kept his eyes straight ahead. But he could feel the tension radiating from her.
“And . . . ?” she whispered.
He paused, trying to recover his composure. “And she was raped.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh my word.” After a brief pause, she said, “It was obvious that she’d been through some kind of trauma when we were at dinner, but I hate that’s what happened. I’m really sorry.”