And she was feeling pretty good, until she realized that her car had been unlocked.
And that there was a note lying on the back seat with her name on it.
CHAPTER 16
“The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.”
—Alan Watts
Dylan couldn’t get to the dance studio fast enough. He ran red lights, passed a vehicle in a no-passing zone, and pretty much committed another half-dozen traffic violations while speeding through Bridgeport.
The moment he arrived, Dylan double-parked in front of a red Suburban, and then ran over to his sister.
She was sitting almost motionless. The windows were up, the doors were locked, and the engine was off. It was hard to tell with only the streetlights casting light, but he was pretty sure she was crying. She was in a bad way.
He was going to need some help.
Looking up at the studio, he pulled out his phone and called Traci. She picked up on the second ring.
“Dylan, what’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be dancing with my sister?”
“Are you home?”
Her voice turned all business. “Yep. Do you need me?”
“Yeah. I’m in front of the studio. I need your help with my sister.”
“I’m walking downstairs now. What happened with Jennifer? She was just here.”
“Can you come on out?” He knew he needed to fill her in, but he wanted to get Jennifer out of that car. It was barely twenty degrees outside.
“Sure. Um, what about Shannon?”
He was definitely not used to mixing work with his personal life, and here his family, work, and Shannon were all intertwined. “Trace, could you tell her that I’m sorry and that I’m not trying to blow her off, but we’ve got a situation?”
“Sure. I’ll be right down.” Her voice was even more serious.
“Thanks.”
She hung up right after, which he was appreciative of. Traci really was just like one of the guys.
Sliding his phone back in his pocket, he approached Jennifer once again. She was sitting stiff in the driver’s seat. Now both of her hands were clenching the steering wheel.
Damn. She looked as bad as she did those first few days after her attack. What had happened?
Realizing he was feeling almost as stressed as he did two years ago, he reminded himself that she wasn’t half-naked and bleeding on the floor of a concrete parking garage. Whatever had happened hadn’t been that. And if it hadn’t been that, then they were going to be able to get through this, too.
Feeling better, Dylan exhaled, rolled back his shoulders, and then gently knocked on Jennifer’s window with two of his knuckles.
Jennifer flinched and closed her eyes.
His heart started racing. What the hell had happened?
“Jen?” he said. “Jennifer, it’s me. It’s Dylan,” he added, knocking on her window again. “Unlock the door.”
He was vaguely aware of the door to the dance studio opening behind him as he waited and watched his sister.
At last, she looked at him. Her pupils were dilated and she looked pale. Her lips were slightly parted.
She was in shock.
He crouched down and raised his voice. “Jennifer, open the door. You’re worrying me.”
When she looked just beyond him, her eyes widened.
He looked over his shoulder. Traci was standing at his shoulder. She was dressed in a loose sweater, jeans, and boots. He’d bet money that she had put her gun in the middle of her back. She was standing alert, looking both at him and the surrounding areas.
Just beyond her was Shannon. She had on a dress and heels and an open coat thrown over her shoulders. She was watching them, concern etching her features. Just beyond them was a man walking a dog. The man was bundled up in a hat, gloves, and ski jacket. There was no way to tell how old he was, but at this point, Dylan didn’t want to worry about anyone in the perimeter.
“Come on, Jennifer,” he said again. “Don’t make me break into this car. We don’t have money for that.”
Finally, that did it. She slowly moved her finger to the button on the side of the door and pushed. It clicked right open.
With a silent prayer of thanks, he opened her door and pulled her into his arms. She remained stiff for a few seconds, then burst into tears. “Honey, what happened? What set you off? Did you get scared again?”
She pulled away, her eyes frantic. “No. It’s not me.”
He ran his hands along her arms. “What happened, then? Are you hurt?” Grasping at straws, he murmured, “Did someone hit—”
“Dylan, one of them . . . one of them was here!”
Even though his body went on alert, he made sure to keep his voice easy. “Honey, you’re going to have to help me out here. One of who?”
“There’s a note! I locked the car, but it was unlocked when I got in,” she continued, each word tumbling over the next. “And then . . . then.” She hiccupped and pointed to the back seat. “I know it was one of them. I know it.”
He stood up, looked at what she was pointing to, and then just about lost it. There really was an envelope sitting on the cushion of the back seat. jennifer lange was written in neat, dark block letters on the center of it.
“Lucky!” he yelled.
“Right here,” Traci said. “What’s going on?”
“We need a squad car. Fingerprints. Pictures. And I need Jennifer inside.” Reaching out he clasped his sister’s hand. It was ice-cold. “She’s been out here for a while. I think she’s in shock and needs to warm up.”
“Okay . . . Hey, Shannon, come over here a sec.”
When Shannon approached, Dylan felt her worry as much as he saw it shining bright in her eyes. Making a decision, he strode to her side. “Honey, could you do me a favor and take my sister inside? Maybe get her some tea or something?”
“Sure. Of course.” She pressed a hand on his upper chest, right over his heart. “You okay?”
He wasn’t. He was angry as hell and freaking out that the men who’d damaged his sister so bad could be back—and might even put Shannon, Traci, and their sister Kimber in danger, too.
But he had enough experience to keep his emotions held down tight. “I’m just fine. Don’t worry about me.” He covered her hand on his chest with his own for a second, letting her know how much he appreciated her touch and concern before moving out of her reach. “I’ll fill you in later about what happened.”