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No, she thought,he’s not a total stranger. He’s one of the lost night people. One of us.
Her apartment building had very good security. The front desk was staffed twenty-four hours a day. Luke would be on camera from the moment he appeared at the entrance. She was taking a risk, but it was a calculated risk.
Her phone pinged, startling her out of her misgivings. New email. She glanced at the screen.
Happy Birthday! Click on the link to read the message.
“That will be my mom’s card,” she said. She picked up the phone, slipped out of the booth, and grabbed her jacket. “See you later.”
“Your address,” Luke reminded her. “And phone number.”
“Oh. Right.”
They went through the process. When they had each other’s details safely stored on their phones, she turned to leave. But she paused.
“The front desk staff will give me a call when you arrive and then send you up in the elevator,” she said, trying to sound helpful. Gracious.
Once again he looked amused. “In other words, there will be a record of my visit, and camera footage as well.”
She raised her chin. “Exactly. And your phone is now on my list of contacts.”
“Having second thoughts about spending the rest of the day together?”
“No,” she said. She was having second, third, and fourth thoughts, but she knew she was not going to change her mind. “We are working this investigation as a team.”
“What about later?”
“Later?”
“Will you be going out with your friends to celebrate your birthday this evening?”
The question threw her off-balance. “No, my circle of friends got very small after my lost night episode. The only people I hang with now are the members of the podcast crew, and they are currently scattered up and down the West Coast. So no, I won’t be partying tonight. I’ll be packing for the trip to the island and then I’m going to get some sleep. See you in a couple of hours.”
“All right.”
It wasn’t until she was out of the restaurant and in her car driving home to her apartment tower that she realized she had stuck Luke with the breakfast bill. She decided not to worry about it. He could use some of the cash in his pack to pay for the biscuits and coffee.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
An hour anda half later she was waiting at the door for Luke.
She was expecting the knock because the concierge had just phoned to notify her that he was on his way up to her apartment, but for some reason the knowledge that he was standing right outside in the hall sent a splash of edgy energy across Talia’s nerves. It was the kind of feeling she got just before a storm rolled in over Seattle—anticipation and a thrilling frisson of excitement, spiked with a hint of danger.
She stood on tiptoe to peek through the peephole. Sure enough, Luke was out there. He was wearing a fresh shirt and trousers, his hair was neatly combed, and he had shaved. He would have looked as if he was arriving for a date—if it wasn’t for the pack slung over his shoulder, the duffel bag, and the attractive yellow and white box he was carrying.
If he was planning on spending the night, he could think again, she vowed silently.
She opened the door.
“Hi,” she said. Cool, smooth, and businesslike.
“Hi,” he said.
He stood there looking at her in a politely expectant way. She went blank, trying to figure out what she was missing. Finally she came to her senses and hastily stepped back.
“Come in,” she said.
“Thanks.”
