by Lorin Grace
Mom pulled out a couple plates. “I would have brought my chicken and dumplings, but I didn’t know what the guard would do with homemade, so it’s Orange Chicken and Crab Rangoon.”
“So why did you come?” Abbie scooped some rice out of a box.
“Because you are about to make a more colossal mistake than any of your brothers ever did. And someone needs to stop you.”
“Bigger than trying to row across Lake Michigan?”
“Adam was only ten. Doesn’t count.”
Abbie pulled apart a wanton. “How about bigger than naming your children with all A names?”
“At least I alphabetized you. And I only regret your names in moments of rage. Do you have any water?”
“Poor Andrew thought his name was Adam-Alan-Alex-No-Andrew until he was five.” Abbie got water out of the fridge.
“Stop changing the subject. This is your mistake we are talking about.”
“What mistake?”
“You aren’t marrying the right man.”
“I’m not marrying anyone.”
“That’s the problem. You should be marrying Preston, and I am not talking about a wedding with some actor officiating so you can catch this anti-cupid culprit.”
“Mom, out of the question. I can’t go up to Preston and tell him I want this to be real.”
“Why not?”
“For one, he is my client. Two, his name is on Fortune’s list. And three, he is Preston Harmon.”
“Are you saying you’re not good enough because he’s rich?”
“No, I am not saying that. I am saying a relationship isn’t possible. He is a wonderful employer, but in the end, I am still just staff.”
“Not the way he looks at you.”
Abbie set down her chopsticks. “How do you know how he looks at me?”
“TV.”
“Interviews don’t count. Acting time.”
Mom got up and walked into the living room. She turned to the corner and gave a thumbs up. “Not that TV. This one.”
Clips from the last four weeks filled the screen. Mom put her hand up, and the film stopped. “Up to this point, he has looked at you as an interesting female. But look at him in this meeting.” She started the video with a wave of her hand. “There. Genuine concern.”
“So Preston is concerned.”
“Keep watching. Here he has moved into protective mode.”
Abbie put her hand up, but the video didn’t stop. “Mom. Please, no more. I know what happens next. It’s better I keep telling myself it’s only my imagination.”
The video continued.
Abbie ran for the bathroom, closed the door, and hit the Off button before the first tear could escape.
The last talk show was the easiest. No surprises. No trick questions. Abbie teared up a bit when the host showed how much support they were getting from the social media world. But she had been silent since they’d left the stage. The driver held the door open, and they got in the car.
Preston held her hand. “Is something wrong?”
“Just worried because the stalker was silent yesterday. Maybe I should have let you put Kevlar in the dress.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“We have a couple stops to make. My parents want to meet us for lunch.”
Abbie closed her eyes for a long minute. Preston squeezed her hand.
“I’m fine. I want her to strike now. If she waits until the wedding. I don’t think an attack will be a hoax this time.”
“Let’s pray it doesn’t get to that.”
“I’ve been praying all month.”
The car pulled up in front of an office building. Preston exited first and helped Abbie out. Gordon’s secretary let them into a conference room. Gordon entered with an older lawyer Preston recognized as Gordon’s father.
“Mr. Harmon, Miss Henderson, take a seat. This is my father, Mr. Jacobson. We prepared the agreement according to your specifications. Please take your time to review these. Miss Henderson, where is your attorney?”
“I don’t have one.”
The elder Mr. Jacobson sat down. “This is highly unusual.”
Abbie looked over the paper. “Because I am asking for nothing or because I have no lawyer? Or—” She paused for a moment. “Or is it this line Preston must have asked you to put in about me not being able to return his gifts?” She ran her pen through the section. “I’d like these lines struck before I sign.” She pushed her paper across the table to Gordon.
This will take a moment. “Preston, is this acceptable to you?”
“Not particularly, but I can’t force Gale to take a gift she doesn’t want.” He should have talked to her about the clause. Maybe when this was all over, they could renegotiate. She would be signing under a false identity anyway.
Gordon returned with new papers. Abbie scribbled across the bottom of the page. Preston took the sheet and signed on his line before handing the page to Gordon.
Gordon took the paper. “I’ll have copies delivered to both of you.”
Abbie took Preston’s hand in the elevator on the way down. “Thanks for trying to put in the gift line. But you knew I wouldn’t agree.”
“You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“No, I can’t, and the gesture was sweet.”
They reached the car and got in. “No one other than my grandmother has ever called me sweet.”
“Well, then, I must have found your secret.”
The car stopped, and they climbed out.
Abbie stopped before clearing the door. “City hall?”
Preston turned to the driver. “This isn’t on this morning’s list.”
The driver held up his phone. “Your assistant put it on the schedule. You have an eleven-thirty appointment.”
Consulting his schedule, Preston discovered the driver was correct. He pressed a button and called his assistant. “Max, how did the appointment get on my schedule?”
“Mrs. Margaret called during your TV interview this morning. She said you had forgotten to include getting your license and asked me to make an appointment. I got the last slot of the week, unless you want to stand in the general line, which can take up to three hours.”
“Thanks, Max.” Preston put his phone back in his pocket and held his hand out for Abbie. “Mum wanted to make sure this was on our schedule.” He could talk to Mum later.
Abbie didn’t speak until they were nearly to the building. “What about our plan to get the license Friday so it’s invalid without the twenty-four-hour waiting period?”
“Apparently that involves a three-hour wait in line.”
At the office, Abbie stopped suddenly, Preston nearly tripping when the firm grip on his arm stopped him too. He turned to face her.
Abbie searched in her purse and looked up, eyes wide. “I only have my real ID.”
It took a moment for Preston to realize what she was saying. “If the license is never witnessed and turned in, it won’t be valid, and we still have the actor. No worries.”
He escorted her into the office. The appointment was over quickly. The clerk signed the certificate and slipped in an envelope. “Congratulations. Have a happy wedding.”
Preston handed the license to Abbie. “Souvenir.”
twenty-four
Abbie checked the mirror one last time and looked in the closet where the black dress from their first date hung. The deep-green dress Preston bought her yesterday was specifically for this date. Their last.
Before turning out the light in her bedroom, she looked up into the camera. “Pray she strikes tonight, guys.”
The stereo popped. “A two-edged prayer, pumpkin. Keep your eyes open.”
“I will, Dad.”
Preston knocked at the door. Abbie opened it to find him with a dozen roses and a bag. “I brought a vase this time.”
“Come in. I’ll put them in water.”
Preston followed her into the kitchen and set the bag on the counter, then pulled the vase out.
She recognized the vase from her china shopping trip with Margaret. “Where did you get this vase?”
“Just around.”
“I think you know exactly where you got it. But I am going to say thank you and hope I can find a place my brothers won’t break it.” She set the Waterford Crystal down carefully.
“If they do, let me know. The vase comes with a lifetime-replacement guarantee.”
There was no use arguing. “Shall we go?”
The maître d’ was the same from a month earlier. But he led them to a different table. “I hope this suits you.”
The waiter came and offered them a list of nonalcoholic drinks. “The Chicago Sunset is our house nonalcoholic special. Would you like one while you wait for your appetizer?”
Preston looked to Abbie for confirmation before ordering.
“I’ll have the drinks right out.”
Preston reached across the table and took her hand. “A penny for your thoughts?”
“I don’t think you own a penny.”
“I do too.” Preston dug in his pockets.
The waiter set their drinks down and left. The bartender had gone the extra mile and placed a bowtie on one, a red-ribbon rose on the other.
Preston pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket. “Wait. Let me check the other one.”
Abbie sipped her drink. A hint of mango and maybe citrus of some kind.
Preston held up a quarter. “Will this do?”
“I knew you didn’t have a penny.”
Preston said something, but Abbie wasn’t sure what. Something was wrong. She took a drink of water to clear her mouth.
Was that Felicia? The woman leaving the bar area turned and gave a little wave.
“Felica—”
Preston dove to catch Abbie as she toppled out of her chair. Adam materialized from someplace barking orders.
No! Don’t die! I should have called this off!
Alex took Preston by the shoulders. “What did she say?”
“What?”
“Right before she passed out, Abbie pointed to the bar and said something.”
Preston shook his head. Why weren’t they giving her CPR?
Alex got in Preston’s face. “What did she say?”
“I don’t know. Feil . . . fall . . . falling . . . no . . . fell se? None of that makes sense. Fell . . . Felicia! Why would she say my cousin’s name? She is supposed to be in New York.”
Alex leaped passed him. Adam appeared.
Paramedics came. Abbie looked so pale. Bodyguards he didn’t recognize attempted to block patrons from taking photographs.
A man in uniform asked him a question. Preston reached for his glass of water before answering.
Adam’s hand grabbed his. “Don’t. The water, drink, or both may be drugged. Did you drink anything?”
Preston shook his head.
The officer spoke again. “Sir, why don’t we step outside so you can answer a couple of questions.”
Adam started to follow.
The officer turned on him. “I only asked Mr. Harmon to come.”
Adam pulled out a card. “Adam Hastings, Hastings security. Unless Mr. Harmon is under arrest, I go where he does. May I suggest you call Detective Spencer? He is already familiar with this stalking case.”
The officer glared but spoke into his radio, requesting the detective.
When they reached the outer lobby, the officer spoke again. “Mr. Harmon. Did Miss Henderson eat or drink anything other than the drinks on the table in the past hour?”
“No, not that I am aware of. But I have only been with her”—Preston consulted his watch—“for about forty minutes.”
“Were you alone with Miss Henderson during that time?” asked the officer.
“Not technically. My driver, bodyguards, and surveillance cameras—one or the other was with me from the time I left my residence.”
The detective arrived and conferred with the officer.
The sounds of sirens announced Abbie was en route to the hospital. Preston looked to Adam for reassurance.
“Alex is with her. Simon is looking for—”
Detective Spencer stepped out of his car and rushed into the middle of the conversation. “Mr. Hastings, I am going to guess you are already a step ahead of us. Catch me up with the short version.”
Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “Working theory is Felicia Harmon was in the bar when the bartender made their drinks. Abbie saw her leaving the bar and tried to tell Preston. You may find something on the restaurant’s security. There is also an exterior camera on the front door. Simon Dermot was contacted and said Felicia arrived this morning from New York, where she had been since early yesterday. She went home, but no one saw her leave her residence. However, she is not at her home now.”
The detective looked from Preston to Adam and back. “I suppose you two will be useless to me until you are with her, go with Officer Simms. He’ll take you to the hospital. I’ll let you know if we find anything in the glasses ASAP. The doctors will need to know too.”
There was something unnerving about riding in the back of the patrol car. Preston took solace in the knowledge that neither he nor Adam were handcuffed.
Adam read a text on his phone, then leaned over. “How could Felica get out of her residence without anyone on Simon’s team noticing? They have searched the mansion, and she isn’t there.”
“The old bootlegger tunnels.”
Adam typed into his phone. “Simon’s asking where the entrance is.”
“The fastest way to find the secret door is to show you. Is my uncle or father around?”
Texts pinged on Adam’s phone. “No, but someone named Josephine is.”
“My Great-Aunt Josephine. She would know too.”
The police car pulled into the bay, and the officers let Adam and Preston out. Jethro was in the waiting room. “Alex is back there with Abbie. Melanie is on her way.”
Alex burst out the doors. “The doctor’s kicked me out. She had a seizure. They think she was slipped both GHB and ketamine and maybe something else. I don’t get it. We had eyes on the bartender the entire time he made the drinks.”
“What about Felicia?” asked Preston.
Adam looked up from his phone. “She must have been in the room when we got there, but she didn’t sit near the bar, so she couldn’t have touched them. The bodyguard from Dallas, Peter, noticed her, but she was with a friend, and he didn’t make the connection with Preston.”
Preston followed the other to a corner and found a chair. “So the stalker might not be Felicia?”
Jethro’s phone rang, and he left the lobby. The canned laughter of a sitcom rerun blared from the TV. Adam and Alex stared at their phones.
Jethro returned. “That was Detective Spencer. Late this afternoon Felicia came to the bar and spoke with the bartender about your date. She gave him two sets of specially decorated glasses. A frosted set of water glasses and the decorated wine glasses. She then returned to the bar, where she sat with a man she’d met on a dating app. The man said he’d never met her before, and he thought she had a crush on the bartender because she was constantly looking at him. The detective says there is still a bit of powder in her water glass. He is waiting on the results, but the on-site test was positive for GHB. The drinking glass didn’t have any powder in it, but the bartender had thought the glass was dirty, then decided it was just the reflection from the glue holding the ribbon wrap on. Pending full
lab results, they think the ketamine was already inside her glass.”
Preston put his head in his hands. Even after Felicia started the fight at Monday’s dinner, he had never suspected her. When she’d vowed to marry him when she was fourteen, they’d discussed it thoroughly. Even his mom and aunt had sat Felicia down. “I need to go call my parents. I’ll be back in a few.”
twenty-five
Antiseptic, machines beeping, and voices. Abbie struggled to open her eyes to confirm what her other senses were telling her.
“Doctor, she is coming around.”
“Miss Hastings, can you hear me?”
She forced her eyes open. A doctor smiled at her. “You are on IV and oxygen, but the worst should be over. Humans were not meant to ingest horse medicine. We are going to keep you down here for another hour or so until they find you a room for the night. The lobby is full of family here for you, plus a police detective. I’ll have the nurse bring one person back to sit with you. Who would you like?”
He probably wasn’t here, but she said the first name that came to her mind. “Preston.”
The effort to keep her eyes open was too great, so she closed them and concentrated on breathing the oxygen coming from the plastic tube in her nose.
The door opened. Preston. Abbie hoped she had gotten the right muscles to work to smile at him.
“Hey, Abbie, how are you feeling?”
Abbie moved her left hand. “Ring. Sorry. I’ll pay.”
“Sweetheart, Alex took it. He gave it to me. Now, how are you?”
“Odd. My brain isn’t listening—No, I mean my body isn’t listening to my brain.”
“Do you remember Detective Spencer?”
Abbie turned to the other man. Not sure if she nodded, she said, “Yes.”
