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“Raphael,” I say, artificially chipper. I am overly aware of my heart beating. Pounding.
I glance up the stairs, judging the distance to the stairwell door.
He steps closer.
“You on your way out?” he asks.
“Yes. Did you forget something?”
“I’ll walk you out,” he says.
The light in the stairwell is dim. If I scream, I doubt anyone will hear. He continues climbing. A stairwell light flickers. The electrical hiss holds a sinister flair.
“I forgot something. I need to go back up.” My hand heats the cold metal stair rail.
He raises an arm. A pistol is tucked into his jeans. The butt shines.
I spin and run.
CHAPTER26
Ryan
On the corner of State and Victoria Streets, flowers are set out in front of a market. Red, yellow, white, pink, and orange cluster together in tall aluminum buckets. I consider Alex’s bright yellow bungalow. But she’s mentioned twice that she plans to paint it a different color.
A woman with an apron wrapped around her waist comes out onto the sidewalk. She lifts one of the tall, narrow buckets. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Are any of these flowers representative of Ireland?” I don’t have enough information to pick a color, and I know nothing about flowers, but something from her homeland might be appealing.
“Well, when I think of Ireland, I think of shamrocks.”
“Do you have that?”
“Clovers?” The woman looks at me like I am a naive child. This is a stupid idea. “No. Here.” She sets down the bucket she was holding and pulls out a phone from her back pocket. She looks through a list. “This says Easter lilies. I’ve never been to Ireland, but I’ve always associated those flowers with religion, and I think Ireland is religious? Irish or not, they smell great.”
She lifts several white flowers with a pink interior and thrusts them close to my nose. I obediently bend and sniff. Alex would probably like the sweet scent.
“Do you think a woman would like these?”
“Definitely.” She smiles up at me, again looking at me like I’m slow. A part of me wants to simply walk away, but I’ve already stopped. I should have never stopped.
“How many of these bunches should I get?” The flowers are tied into groups of three. She sells me on a dozen.
After being wrapped in pink paper and taped, the bouquet is enormous. On the bright side, the pale pink paper keeps it from feeling like someone died. But the bundle fills my passenger seat. There’s no telling how Alex will react to this bulky gift. When I bring back take out, or take-away as she calls it, I can tell her the restaurant was running a special and giving out free bundles of flowers. Red dust from the flowers covers the side door, and I let out a curse.
Why the hell did I stop for flowers?
My phone vibrates against the holder in my car. Time slows. My peripheral vision darkens.
Breaking News: Shots Fired on UCSB campus. Updates to come.
I shift the car into drive and slam on the accelerator. A sharp horn blasts from the car I cut off. I shout at Siri, “Call Alex Rolfe.”
The number dials as I tear through the streets of Santa Barbara, scanning for off guard pedestrians.
Ring. Ring.
My heartrate climbs.
