Page 46 of The Best Shot

But I’d missed him.

“Okay.”

He studied me. Checking. Whatever he found, it was enough.

“Okay,” he said, softly.

I picked up my basket and headed for the register. A second later, Hale fell into step beside me.

13

“LET ME ACT LIKE IT.”

HALE

Ifollowed her across town into a complex on the north side.

She parked in her assigned spot. I took a visitor space two rows over, grabbed the toolbox out of the truck bed, and caught up to her at the elevator. She hit four, and the doors closed around us.

“You sure now’s a good time?” she asked.

“I’m sure.” I’d bought myself a longer night at the shop to make up for this, but that was my business.

“If you’re sure,” she said finally, fiddling with her keys.

It was the same tension from the hardware store, only we’d joked our way around it there. No one was laughing now.

Part of me liked knowing she felt that tension too. The other part hated that it looked so much like nerves.

I was still turning it over when she let us in.

The apartment was small, living room into kitchen, a hallway beyond. But it wasn’t thrown together. She’d taken time with her space.

I stopped at the wall.

Black and white photography. Framed. Istanbul first. I recognized the Blue Mosque in the early light. Iceland next, black sand beaches, a wave caught mid-crash. Tokyo after that, neon signs in rain-slicked streets.

She’d taken these. Been to those places. Stood there long enough to notice things most people would’ve walked past.

“You want something to drink?” she called from the kitchen.

“Coke, if you have it.”

I kept moving along the wall. On the shelf sat a carved elephant, dark wood worn smooth, and a row of books in what looked like Japanese, French, and Arabic. A deep indigo and burnt-orange blanket draped over the couch, woven tight, the kind of thing that took somebody weeks and sure as hell wasn’t ordered off Amazon.

There were no plants on the windowsill, though, or pet bowls by the door. Nothing that would need tending while she was gone.

She’d built something warm and left herself an exit.

I stood there a while, not liking how easy it would be for her to go.

She came back with the Coke. I picked up the elephant, turned it in my hand. “Where’s this from?”

“Kenya. The woman who sold it to me said it was good luck.”

“You believe her?”

“I believe she wanted a sale.” She smiled. “Kept it anyway.”