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“He’s—he’s in New Orleans. Or he was.”
“Morgan.”
“I—he—got another credit card in my name. Morgan Nash Albright. He used my middle name with it this time. I got the bill in the mail. Over—over three thousand dollars.”
“Morgan, I need you to stay calm.”
“I can’t.”
“Stay calm. I want you to text me the bill. Take a photo with your phone and text it to me. We’re going to send someone to pick up the hard copy from you, so don’t destroy it. But text me a copy. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Are you taking the precautions we discussed?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Morgan, I know this is upsetting.”
“Upsetting.” She had to press a hand to her mouth to muffle a quick, hysterical laugh.
“But I want you to hear me. This is another mistake. He’s telegraphed where he is, or more likely was. He’s given us a way to track him.”
“Do you think he’s coming here?”
“He knew you’d get this bill, and he’d know when you’d get it, within a day or two of when. It wouldn’t make sense for him to come there now. He wants you to be afraid, upset, confused. He needs to believe he’s in the front of your mind.”
She closed her eyes. “The way I am in his. That’s what you’re not saying.”
“If you are, it’s causing him to make these mistakes, take these unnecessary risks. We can come to you if you need us to.”
“No, no. Findhim.”
“We’re working on it. I promise you. Send me the text.”
“All right. I’ll send it now. I—I have to go to work soon. If someone’s coming to get this bill, they need to come to my work.”
“We’ll arrange that. If we have any new information, we’ll be in touch. That’s another promise.”
She sent the text, then made herself walk to her grandmother’soffice for a manilla envelope. She sealed the bill inside, tucked it in her bag.
Instead of going into the shop, she drove aimlessly until she felt as calm as she could manage.
As a result, she was a few minutes late for her meeting with Opal.
“My time’s as valuable as yours.”
“I apologize.” She offered no excuses as they stood facing each other in the cool air of the wine cellar.
Opal’s eyes narrowed as she studied Morgan’s face. “Are you sick or something?”
“I’m fine. You have specific complaints. This is the time to communicate them.”
“Oh, I’ll communicate them. If your grandmother and Lydia Jameson didn’t go back, you wouldn’t have this job.”
“You’re probably right.”
“No probably about it. The Jamesons tend to promote from within, but not this time. You’re not the only one on the resort who can mix drinks. And you’re slow at it because you’re so busy flirting with every man who walks in, coming on to them, especially the Jameson men. It’s disgraceful, and it reflects on all of us.”
