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“Yeah,” Steph said with a smile. “She’s a pro, though.”
Cal nodded and grabbed his jacket from the back of the recliner. Then he moved toward Steph where she waited by the door. He paused … she paused. He wasn’t sure why there was a hesitation between them right now. Maybe she just really wanted to have him leave so she could crash in bed.
“See you on the weekend?” he asked.
“Yep.”
Another pause.
He reached for the doorknob, then before he could open the door, she stepped close and wrapped her arms about him.
Relief flowed through him, and he pulled her close.
“Drive safe,” she murmured.
Could she feel the thumping of his heart? “I will. You have a good week at work.”
“You too.” She stepped away, and there was still something in her eyes that he couldn’t read, couldn’t define.
He wanted to pull her close again, and kiss her, and tell her things like how he was already missing her. But her eyes were too bright, her posture too erect.
“Good night, Bee.”
As he drove away from the neighborhood, he realized he hadn’t told her about his next few days of likely no contact. When he followed someone, he cut off all contact from other things in his life. It was why he didn’t have a dog or cat or any plants to water. He never knew if a job would be a day or four days, or even longer.
He’d text her when he got home and let her know.
Then he could only hope that Steph would know he wasn’t ghosting her, no matter how awkward their goodbye had been.
The following morning, Steph hadn’t replied to the text he’d sent after he returned home. He assumed she’d gone to bed, and then this morning would be filled with the busyness of turning Maren over to her parents, and then going to work herself. She probably had a lot of catch-up to do as well after being away from Pops most of the weekend.
Cal told himself not to worry about her silence too much, but he worried anyway.
For the next three days, he lived out of a room in the hotel where the person he was profiling was staying. He was able to document the movements of the man suspected of insurance fraud, and his many meetings in the hotel lobby with elderly people who were led to believe they could take out life insurance at a high return when no other insurance company offered that. The man was quite blatant, in fact, taking large annual fees in the form of checks from his clients, then later in the afternoon heading to a bank to deposit them. It was all old-school and made it that much easier to track. For years, this man had been conning elderly people out of their money. Not one of their death benefits had been distributed—the insurance man claiming that their policy had expired or hadn’t been paid in full.
On Cal’s third day, he had more than enough evidence to turn over to the law firm, but he decided to stick around a little while longer and thwart the man’s appointments. So he stood outside the hotel, out of sight from the lobby windows, and intercepted every elderly person he encountered. He’d ask them if they were meeting with a life insurance broker, and if they were, he’d break the news to them.
Most of them were shocked, but receptive. One older man blustered and accused Cal of trying to drum up his own business. Then the man headed into the hotel. It was time for Cal to leave.
A couple of hours later, he’d arrived home, and still seeing no reply from Steph, the worry he’d talked himself out of feeling returned in full force. She was likely at the salon right now, but he sat at his desk and called her anyway. After a few rings, his call went to voice mail. Well, at least she wasn’t screening him, right?
“Hey, Bee,” he said. “You’re probably working. I wanted to check on you. See how you’re doing. How’s Julie’s baby? How’s Pops?” Too many questions. “Anyway, call me when you have a minute.”
Surely a phone call would deserve a response. It was easy for a text to get lost in the shuffle. But for this many days? Wouldn’t she reach out to him on her own, even if she hadn’t acknowledged his earlier text? He hadn’t imagined all the time they’d spent together—the fun, the flirting, the kissing.
And she’d invited him to the barbecue with her friends. Was that still on? Or more specifically, was he still invited?
There was nothing more he could do … except wait.
So he’d stay busy. While he’d been gone, plenty of work had come in.
When someone knocked at the door, he flinched. He’d been buried so deep in his work that he’d lost track of time, and apparently the sun was setting.
Cal stood, feeling stiff, and automatically checked his phone. Nothing from Steph. Maybe she’d come to Grandin? She didn’t know his address, though, so there was no hope she was the one knocking on his door.
A quick glance through the peephole told him it was his neighbor. Diane.
He opened the door, and Diane smiled at him, although it was a bit harried. Her curly dark hair was tamed by a headband. Two kids clung to her legs, but the second they saw him, they launched themselves toward him.
