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“I think I might’ve scared someone off. A white van. Pulled up a few minutes ago.” A lie, but the knit of her brows tells me she’s buying it.
Shaking her head, she glances to the road and back. “Fucking Harv. Bethany didn’t come to work today. Two of them must’ve played hookie. He probably tried leaving me another creepy note. Is that what you stuffed in your pocket?”
“No.” Reaching back into my pocket, I tug out the pack of smokes tucked beside the note and photograph, and wave it in front of her. “Was about to have a smoke when you walked up.”
“Well, thanks for heading him off.” Stuffing her hands into her apron pockets, she looks painfully sexy right now. “Why are you here, though?”
I shove the cigarette between my lips and light it up to buy me some time coming up with an excuse. Thumb scratching across my jaw, I clear my throat. “Another girl’s body was found earlier. Didn’t think you should be going home late by yourself.”
“Yeah.” The dubious tone of her voice tells me she doesn’t believe it, and she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t trust anyone right now, including me. “You drove all the way to my work to see me to my car?”
“Is that strange?”
“Very.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“No. I’d like to think men were that chivalrous, but I know better.”
Smart girl. “Then, I’m just going to lay it on you, Nola. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me fucking crazy. Crazy enough to drive all the way over here and tell you so.” The words are nothing but a cover, but even I’m surprised at how easily they fall from my mouth, like truth.
“Um. Wow. Thank you. For that. Uh … thank you for driving over here.”
“What are you doing tonight?” I could kick my own ass for asking that, the shit pouring out of me, like this is some normal encounter between us.
“Pottery,” she says, much to my relief. “Lots of pottery. I have a show in a week, and I’m desperately trying to build up my inventory.”
“That’s too bad. Thought I’d see about making it two for two on the wine.”
Her lips stretch to a shy smile. “Ah, definitely not tonight.” It’s dark, but I swear she’s blushing. “But will you take a raincheck? Maybe after my show this weekend?”
“Sure. After your show.”
“Good. So, have a good night, Voss.”
Instead of answering, I lift her hand and kiss the back of it. “’Night.”
After helping her into her car, I watch her drive off, eyes scanning the surroundings one more time. If he’s watching me right now, he’s aware of one thing: how closely I’m watching her.
Maybe that’ll be enough to save Nola from the nightmares.
17
Nola
Jonah’s sitting on the front porch when I pull into my driveway. Strange, as Diane usually drops Oliver off to me on nights I don’t drive over myself to pick him up. Typically, the later shifts.
He pushes to his feet, as I make my way toward the front door.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Diane picked Oliver up today. He had a black eye.”
“What?” I lurch toward the stairs, but Jonah sets his hand on my shoulder.
“He’s okay. We iced it, and the swelling’s gone down a lot. Diane asked Oliver how he got it. He wrote it down on a piece of paper for her. Claims some kids ganged up on him this afternoon, when he was walking home from his friend’s bus stop.”
“Dammit! I told him not to get off at Brett’s. He knows better than that.”
