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“You go.” He pointed to the screen. “I love this one—it’s when she invites all her handsome, gay male friends over for brunch.”
“How completely out of the ordinary,” I said, and we both chuckled.
“Anyway,” Marc added, “I need to keep an eye on the bread. It doesn’t take long and I don’t want it to burn.”
“Okay.” I was sort of relieved. The need for some alone time was strong. I adored my husband, but even with our easy-going life, our effortless time together, the need for solitude rose up regularly, demanding attention.
Vito’s pointed ears had perked up when he heard the word “walk” and now he stood at the door, stub of a tail wagging, patiently waiting to be harnessed and leashed. He most likely discerned lakefront too. That dog loved nothing more than a romp on the sand, even though it wasn’t quite legal in the summertime.
Now Vito and I neared the beach. The surf roared distantly as waves crashed against the breakwater at the end of the street.
I experienced an odd sensation. A chill ran up and down my spine, and my steps faltered. Vito yanked me forward, eager to complete our trip to the beach, which I’m certain he could smell even better than I could hear.
I let myself be yanked, but couldn’t shake the feeling:Someone’s watching me. The hair on the back of my neck raised, I’m sure. I felt a cold tingle up and down my spine, even though it was hot and humid enough to put us in Louisiana.
I glanced all around and especially behind, yet saw no one out of the ordinary, no one interested in a gay man walking his smashed-in faced dog.
The tingly, unnerving sensation persisted. Intuition can be powerfully persuasive, I’d learned.
The uneasiness didn’t dissipate after we crossed the beach to get to the water’s edge. At least there, the crashing surface and the jewel-like sparkles on the surface of the water allayed my worry. Vito didn’t care at all. I unleashed him so he could enjoy a few rapturous moments dashing through the surf, barking as if he’d reached canine Nirvana.
I was forever turning away and scanning the western horizon to see if anyone suspicious was lurking. Anyone, of course, being the guy who called himself Jeb Kleber.
My anxiety didn’t ebb as Vito and I abandoned the shoreline and headed south on the lakefront trail, stopping and starting as bicyclists, runners, and rollerbladers sailed by us. Of course, Vito pulled me back many times to sniff a bush or blades of grass.
My anxiety peaked when I saw him. I got the full contingent—racing heart, sweaty palms, breathing coming in short pants, as though I’d run a marathon.
Myspideysense had been right all along.
Jeb sat on a park bench about a football field away. Although he held a book in his hand, he stared right at me.
Despite the heat and damp air, despite my wearing only a pair of shorts and tank top, my blood froze, leaving me cold and trembling. I wanted to turn and run, but his green-eyed stare held me in place. I was a bug pinned to an exhibition board.
Even Vito was at last unnerved, whining, and pulling at his leash, leading me in the opposite direction. It was as though he knew something wicked was about to this way come.
I listened to my dog and turned away, heading back north. My breath quickened as footsteps sounded behind, speeding up to keep pace. Only propriety kept me from breaking into a full-on sprint.
“Sammy! Can you just hold up for a minute? I know you saw me.”
Several people on the trail turned to peer at me curiously. Heat rose to my cheeks.
Reluctantly, and with a sigh, I stopped in my tracks. Vito sat at my feet as though he understood my wariness and wanted to be in complete solidarity. I didn’t turn around, but waited until Jeb—or whomever the hell he was—to stand before me.
We eyed each other for a moment and I hoped my fear and anxiety weren’t obvious. I didn’t want him to know that he terrified me.
He spoke first. “Look, man, I just want to talk to you.”
I sucked in a breath. For a moment, I feared bursting into tears. I steeled myself, drawing in a deep breath. “Why? Why? Why? That’s the big theme for my questions. I have about three questions I need you to answer before I’ll even begin to consider talking to you.”
“Can we at least sit down?” He gestured toward one of the benches lining the trail. “Please?”
I was tempted to refuse, but conceded once I realized sitting would make it easier to keep my fear and shakiness at bay.
We settled on to the bench. I made sure to put as much distance between us as possible. Vito hopped up to occupy the space between us. He regarded Jeb with his big brown eyes and then moved a little closer, lowering his head to be petted. Jeb indulged him. I was surprised because Vito was usually extremely wary of strangers. But he’d closed his eyes in bliss at Jeb’s touch.
“I just want you to know—”
I held up my hand to cut him off. “No. I don’t want to hearanythingfrom you until I’m satisfied about a few things.”
