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“Crap. Then I’ll leave you to it, but I’ll check back later. Bye.” Glenda blew her a kiss and left the room.
Elle answered her phone.
Without preamble, Compton said, “Elle, listen carefully. You need to pack a bag and—”
“Pack a bag?”
“Essentials only. Enough for a few days.”
“Where am I going? What’s happened?”
“Remember meeting Dawn Whitley? The woman on crutches.”
“Of course. She’s in the therapy group.”
“She received a death threat this morning.”
“What?!”
“She’s one of you who saw the ball cap guy, and all five of you have been identified.”
“You said our names wouldn’t be disclosed.”
“That was the plan, but—”
“Elle!” Glenda rushed back into the room, looking out of breath. “What the hell is going on? There are two sheriff’s deputies at your front door. They said they’re here to escort you.”
Chapter 19
Calder hadn’t slept at all. But as he shifted his position in the unfamiliar bed, he glanced at the clock on the nightstand and, seeing the hour, determined that he had delayed facing the day long enough. Facing himself.
Kicking off the covers, he got up, used the bathroom and pulled on a pair of boxers, grabbed his phone, then went in search of caffeine.
The apartment complex was ranked the most exclusive temporary housing to be had in the metroplex. Yesterday, he’d leased the only unit available and had paid for one month in advance.
As advertised, it was outfitted with all the bells and whistles. He was indifferent to most of the amenities, but in the compact galley kitchen, he discovered a coffee maker and—God bless the previous occupant—several pods of dark roast.
He brewed a cup and carried it into the living area, stepping around his suitcases, which he hadn’t yet unpacked. His laptop had been charging overnight on the dining table. He checked the inbox of his emails but didn’t see anything that demanded an immediate response.
His new residence had a sleek gym on the second floor and a heated pool on the rooftop. He should avail himself of one of them and get in a workout. But he couldn’t generate any enthusiasm for the idea and used his left arm as an excuse not to overexert.
Although he’d had no problem using it to support himself above Elle as she’d arched up—
Shit!
He carried his coffee over to the broad window. It overlooked a congested freeway, not the man-made lake featured in the online ad for the complex. Standing there watching vehicles battling for yardage around road construction, he muttered, “Hero, my ass.”
What must Elle be thinking of him this morning? No doubt she was calling him every name in the book. She had reason to.
He’d run.
He cursed himself lavishly and obscenely as a damn coward. Then, having exhausted his repertoire of vulgarities, to no effect, he set his coffee cup on an end table, backed up to an ottoman and sat, placed his elbows on his knees, plowed all ten fingers up through his hair, and held his head between his hands.
It would be a mistake, she’d said.
Fine, he’d thought.
He wasn’t a beggar, sure as hell not where women were concerned. Besides, he’d just gotten rid of one pain-in-the-ass female. Why would he seek another relationship that was already ten times more complicated? He wouldn’t. No thanks.
