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The shadows of the parking garage remained absolute. I could sense movement in them, though. A vague stirring.
I walked backwards for a good half block, making sure I wasn’t being followed. Eventually I picked out a small cafe, ducked inside, and slipped into the first empty chair so I could watch the window. I sat there for a good five minutes, heart racing, just watching as dozens upon dozens of people walked by.
“Miss?”
When I glanced up, a shaggy-haired waiter was staring down at me pleasantly. His smile put me somewhat at ease.
“Did you need anything to drink?”
“N—No,” I said, starting to get up. “I was just…”
A man walked by the window, tall and gruff and determined. His eyes were scanning in every direction, as if he were on a mission.
Was that him?
Then again, the next man looked pretty much the same. So did some of the women. Half of all these people, I knew, were tourists. Walking with that swiveled-headed gait, that skyscraper-gazing awe, you only saw in New York City.
Shit, I’d done the same thing for weeks after I first got here.
“On second thought, you know what?” I told the waiter, “I will have a drink.”
The man’s smile returned. He pulled out his little pad as I plopped back into my seat.
“Make it a double, actually.”
Forty-One
HOLLY
It was already dark by the time Ulrich arrived to pick me up, which was unbelievable considering it was only four O’clock. That was the worst part about Christmas here for me. This time of year the sun in New York City went down a full hour before it did in San Antonio. The short days and scant sunlight seemed to cast everything in a premature gloom.
But I tried to look on the bright side. At least it meant longer nights.
As I packed, I forced myself to forget about the incident in the parking garage. I chalked it up to my imagination, or maybe just another employee getting off the same time I did. There was no reason to think otherwise, and I didn’t want to ruin the weekend with needless worry. Besides, it was New York City! There were people literally everywhere.
But not in Maine…
As the shiny black Lexus turned onto my street, I was already in a much better mood. The excitement at going away with Lincoln drove away everything else, even my anger at Malcolm. I stood on my tiptoes so I could plant a Christmas kiss on Ulrich’s cheek, then jumped into the front seat instead of the back to make chit-chat with him all the way to John F. Kennedy Airport.
In truth, I needed the company. I wanted to work out every last bit of anxiety before getting on the plane. When the car finally stopped at the private aviation center, Lincoln was there to open the door for me. He took my hand, pulled me to him, and greeted me with a smile and a kiss.
“You ready?”
It was absolutely freezing cold! Windy too. My lover’s body was warm though, especially as I slid my hands around his waist to kiss him back.
“Let’s go then,” said Lincoln. “Pilot says we gotta beat the storm.”
Ulrich handed my bag to someone else, and I saw the aircraft that would take us into the sky. It was a small but beautiful jet, the interior lights looking warm and inviting through its rounded windows.
We boarded, and the first thing I noticed were the plush leather seats on either side of the fuselage. There were tables to sit at. Places to kick back and actually stretch out.
“I’ve never been on a private plane before,” I admitted.
“You’re gonna like it,” Lincoln chuckled. “But only for about two hours. In this thing, Maine isn’t all that far.”
I sat down, marveling at how comfortable and spacious everything was. The cabin was warm, and well-lit, with a fully-stocked bar off to one side. When Lincoln picked up an already-open champagne bottle and some glasses, I nodded happily.
Glancing up toward the nose, I could see into the cockpit. Lights and avionics blinked from every surface of the control console. One of the pilots saw me looking, smiled back at me, and tipped his hat.
