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“I invited you, remember?”
“Fine. But I’ll get the next one. I really do need to get back to my laptop.” She slid out of the booth then bent to retrieve her purse and jacket. She hesitated at the edge of the table. Her smile was sad, and maybe kind of longing too. I found myself wanting to ask her to stay, for coffee or dessert. Or to come home with me for dessert of a different kind, then coffee in the morning. “Thank you, Cade. I’m glad we did this,” she finally said as she slipped into her jacket.
“I am too. Bye, Charlotte.”
The next one.I took comfort in those words and smiled to myself as I dug in my pocket for my wallet. There would be a next one, I’d make sure of it.
I paid Savannah, then stopped in the doorway, squinting into the sun. Was someone taking pictures of Charlotte in her Jeep?
I jogged across the parking lot toward a man with a camera pointed at her, tracking her Jeep as she drove away. He appeared to be deliberately nondescript. Medium height and build, pale, with a baseball cap and a brown leather jacket. But his camera was expensive. He had to be a major photography buff or a professional.
“Hey, what are you up to?” I didn’t identify myself as law enforcement even though I should have.
“Nothing. Just taking pictures. It’s a free country.”
“Yeah. It is. And there are hundreds of more interesting and picture worthy spots around here. Why would you choose a parking lot to photograph?”
“No reason. I’m new here. I’m still getting used to the area.” He dodged my question.
“I’m Detective Caden Barrett, Sweetbriar PD, and it appeared that you were taking pictures of the Jeep that drove away. We don’t take kindly to folks photographing people trying to go about their day. May I see your ID? And your camera please.”
His friendly smile turned sly. “Am I being detained?”
I huffed a sigh. “No, you are not.”
“Have I committed a crime?”
“I don’t know yet. Have you?”
He smirked. “Since you obviously don’t have a warrant for the camera, we both know I don’t have to show you anything. I’ll be on my way. Have a nice day, Detective Caden Barrett, Sweetbriar PD.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching as he got into a rental car and drove off. Removing my cellphone, I took pictures and notated the license plate number and the make and model, then texted the info to my partner, Trevor, to run.
I couldn’t put my finger on why his presence bothered me so much, not yet anyway. Charlotte was famous, and it was possible he was simply a fan. Or he could be telling the truth. One thing for certain though, I wouldn’t wait for something to happen. I always trusted my gut; it hadn’t led me wrong yet.
Minutes later, Trevor shot me a text. The rental was legit and the driver had a clean record; he was an attorney from Pennsylvania.
