Page 59 of Worth of Waste

Karen

THERE was something about the holidays—Christmas, specifically—that made Karen joyful. It could have been the cold snow that blanketed everything, making the city of Chicago look bright and beautiful. It could have been the trees and wreaths, lit up with spectacular lights, and the ribbons draped between each and every light pole, reminding everyone who could see them that the festivity never ended in the city.

Christmas music played in every store.

Bells jingled.

The scent of pine and cinnamon hung in the air.

She loved the season because of how happy it made everyone else, and she liked nothing more than soaking in the joy of others.

Even her son seemed thoroughly entranced by the changes the Christmas season brought. Bundled up with a fluffy coat, big hat, and mittens, Junior peered all around with his wide eyes, taking in every detail he could with loud ohs and ahs.

Karen couldn’t help but smile at his innocent amazement.

If only she could get him to leave their small tree and the presents underneath it alone when they were at home.

Honestly, she didn’t mind.

His curiosity and excitement were cute.

She thought her son would have enjoyed the sight of the dressed-up horse pulling the white sleigh down the street, had he been with her, but given it was a work day, Karen was taking her lunch away from the studio, and Junior was at daycare.

Maybe she could find out about that horse and sleigh another day …

Karen tugged off her gloves as she walked into the small café, the scent of warm coffee and freshly baked treats drawing her to the waiting server behind the cash. She surveyed what was offered beneath the display glass, settling on cinnamon rolls and coffee. Once she had paid for her items, she took a seat in the corner, getting her laptop set up as she sipped her hot drink.

She had just got the laptop booted up—ready to do some photo editing on her lunch break—as a figure sat down in the chair across from hers at the small table. The man, dressed in a black suit with a heavy wool coat, looked as though he had come from the outside, and hadn’t even bothered to get himself something to eat.

Karen couldn’t help but notice how there was lots of other empty tables in the café, and her table was only meant for two people. With her laptop out, and a half of a bite of cinnamon roll in her mouth, it wasn’t as if she looked exactly inviting for company.

“Can I help you?” Karen asked the man.

The man stuck his hand out, offering it to Karen to shake.

She only stared at him, not taking it.

Pulling his hand back slowly, the man smiled, unaffected at her rejection. “Detective Rubins, ma’am. I was wondering if you had a minute or two to talk about an employer.”

Karen sat a little straighter in her chair. “The studio—”

“No, not your current employer, a previous one.”

A lump grew in her throat the longer she sat there. The eyes of the detective, following her every move, made Karen feel as if she were nothing more than a bug under a microscope.

“Which employer would that be and how did you know to find me here?”

Again, the detective smiled. “I went to the studio first—some of your mail from your last employer had been flagged for return to your new workplace. Your boss said I could find you here. If you would rather something else, I could let you have your lunch and we could set up a time to meet at the precinct.”

Hell no.

That thought practically screamed inside Karen’s mind.

On the outside, however, she stayed silent.

“Which employer?” Karen asked again.

“A Dino DeLuca—he owns the restaurant you worked at before you moved to your new job.”