“I told him I was inviting you, and honestly, he seemed delighted. I wouldn’t do that to you or him.” An unexpected snort of amusement came through the phone. “Dan’s the matchmaker. Me? I might help things along, but I know when to keep my nose out of someone’s business.”
Tess wasn’t sure if she believed that, but she kept it to herself. “Well, in that case, I’m in. I’ll have to let you know about Andy, though. It’ll depend on his mood.”
“Tell him there’s food,” Bonnie said. “That’s all men and growing boys need to hear.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “I can’t argue with that.”
After they exchanged their goodbyes, she stood and slid the phone back into her pocket.
The lot behind the building stretched out quietly in the afternoon sun. Nothing out of place—no dark Escalade, no lingering car idling where it shouldn’t be. Just the familiar row of employee vehicles and a delivery van parked near the loading dock.
But that sense of unease crept up anyway, light but insistent, the same flicker she kept trying to dismiss as nothing.
She glanced around again, slower this time, searching for anything out of place—a shape, a shadow, a face she didn’t recognize. Nothing.
Still, she couldn’t shake it, and it was starting to drive her crazy.
Back inside, she spent the next few hours filling out paperwork, restocking the autopsy suite, filing lab results, and prepping Dr. Hansen’s equipment for tomorrow’s cases. Performing the routine daily tasks pushed the unease from her mind.
At the end of her shift, she washed up, sent Andy a quick text, and headed toward the exit. Patty and the other clerks had already left, so the lobby was quiet.
She pushed through the glass door into the late afternoon heat and squinted against the sun.
The lot was still and less than half full. A few vehicles sat scattered in their usual spots—proof some of the county offices were still grinding through the late afternoon. Her car sat where she’d left it that morning, fourth space from the end of the second row. Everything looked normal.
However, trepidation rippled through her.
She shook it off. Fatigue. Stress. That was all.
Her footsteps made barely a sound on the warm asphalt as she approached the car. She dug into her bag to fish her keys free, muttering a curse when she realized they’d worked their way to the bottom.
A roar of a revved engine split the air.
She jerked her head up.
A white van shot into the lot from the far entrance—too fast, tires skidding, engine screaming. It fishtailed once, corrected, and barreled straight toward her.
“What the?—?”
Instinct jolted her backward. She stumbled a step.
The van veered hard and skidded to a stop beside her, its brakes shrieking loud enough to hurt her ears. The scent of burnt rubber hit her a second later.
“Hey!” she yelped, her heart hammering.
The sliding side door flew open.
Two men in black ski masks, jeans, and T-shirts jumped out before she could react. One grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. The other wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her off her feet.
“Stop—stop!” She shoved against the arm cinched around her middle, panic flaring so fast it made her vision strobe. “Let go!”
They didn’t.
A formidable hand clamped over her mouth while a rough voice snapped, “Get her in!”
Her phone slipped from her fingers and skittered across the pavement.
“No—no!” She kicked blindly, her heel connecting with someone’s shin. A grunt. But the hold didn’t loosen. She was half carried, half dragged toward the open van as she fought harder—her legs and arms flailing, her body twisting. Every instinct screamed at her to get free.
