Page 6 of Chasing Amanda

She’d seen the smaller one around campus a few times, and he seemed harmless enough. The big one had been with a few regulars, but she’d never seen him before tonight. He was handsome, no doubt about that.

Was he the one who’d told her to run, or had it been the smaller one? She hadn’t been able to tell in the darkness. Maybe the bigger one was following her, and the smaller one was protecting her. Maybe vice versa.

She sighed. Maybe what happened on the street had nothing to do with her. Maybe she was losing her mind.

She headed into the tiny kitchen and set her purse on the table. A note on the end of the counter read, Gone with Dean for the weekend. See you Monday night.

Monday was Veterans Day, and apparently Gina had decided to blow off Friday classes and start her long weekend early, which left Amanda alone in the apartment. Normally, she wouldn’t care, but after tonight…

The more she thought about it, the less sure she was about anything. She’d felt threatened, and maybe she had been. But maybe she’d just been paranoid because of those two perverts at the bar earlier.

Whether she’d actually been threatened or not wasn’t the point. She could have been. Her parents had been worried about her working so far from home after dark. She’d ignored their concerns, but they were right. It was time to find something closer to her apartment, something with better hours and less danger.

She’d call in the morning and quit. No job was worth risking her life for—no matter how good the money was.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mark rapped on the door of the bar at quarter to eleven the next morning. A rail-thin woman with long silky hair unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “We open in fifteen minutes.”

“I’d like to speak with the manager, please.”

She looked from his feet to his face. “Just a sec.” She closed the door, leaving him on the sidewalk.

It was a cool, cloudy day. Mark shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned against the brick wall. The blonde, Amanda, was probably going to think he was crazy, stopping by here again, but he couldn’t get the image of that hooded guy and his knife out of his mind. He’d lost sleep to the images of what that little rat might do to her, what he would’ve done to her if Mark hadn’t intervened.

Finally, the door opened again, and an older, gray-haired man stepped out. “What can I do for you?”

Mark nodded toward the door. “May I come in?”

The manager held the door open, and Mark entered. It looked so different that it could’ve been a different restaurant than the night before. The floor and all the brass fixtures shone in the overhead lights, and the bar and tables gleamed. Menus were stacked on the hostess’s station, prepared for the lunch crowd. Nobody would guess the place had overflowed with inebriated college kids less than twelve hours earlier.

“I’m kind of busy.” The manager faced him just inside the door. “What do you need?”

“Someone followed one of your waitresses, Amanda, last night, and I⁠—”

“What do you know about it? Was it you?” The man’s voice rose as he gestured toward the phone on the bar. “She was one of my best waitresses.”

“She’s all right?”

“She quit, that’s what she is. You scared her to death. I ought to call the cops.”

“Whoa.” Mark lifted one hand, palm out. “I wasn’t following her. I wanted to tell her⁠—”

“Get out.” The man pointed at the front door. “And don’t come back. If I see your face around here again, I’m calling the police.”

“I’m just trying to help. I think that guy⁠—”

“Missy,” he called over his shoulder. “Call 911. Tell them we have an intruder.”

“Okay, okay.” Mark backed out the door. “Just tell her to keep her eyes open. I’m afraid that guy might come looking for her.”

“I’ll tell her, all right.” The manager pushed out behind him. “I’ll tell her exactly what you look like.” He slammed the door and locked it.

Mark hadn’t seen that coming. Did he look like a stalker?

Right. What did stalkers look like? He had to hand it to the manager—he’d stood his ground to protect his former employee.

Unfortunately, Mark didn’t think the manager was going to pass along his message. He wandered to the corner where he and the little rat had fought the night before and looked in the direction the waitress had run. He didn’t know Providence that well, but he had the general layout committed to memory. From where he was standing in downtown Providence, the Brown campus, where Justin lived, was to the east and across the river. Rhode Island School of Design was also that direction. But the girl had run to the south.