She regretted nothing.
Grabbing the dog’s leashes, she gathered them up and took them outside, keeping an eye on Noah’s place as they passed it. Anticipation knotted in her chest, making her feel slightly nauseous at the thought of talking to him. Was she ready for that? She didn’t think she was. Her shell had too many cracks now.
As they rounded the curve of the cul-de-sac on their return around the neighbourhood, she saw him, feet propped up on his railing, sipping from a mug, and watching them.
Communicating behind email was easy for her. Less pressure. Safe. Communicating in person, not so much. Cowardly? Yes, she totally owned it. She veered toward Zach’s house, hurrying to get back inside in case Noah decided to be a pest.
She hurried in, shut the door, activated the alarm, and sank against the wall. Squealing, she pushed both dogs away when they slathered her face with doggy kisses. “Guys, that’s so gross!” Pushing to her feet, she rubbed her face and shook her head. Actually, she was starting to get used to it. Go figure.
Grabbing her phone, she went into Zach’s office, switched on the monitor to watch Noah, and dialled Kellan. He answered on the second ring. Good. He was her life raft, the last thing between her and drowning in the abyss of uncertainty. She needed him to remind her why she shouldn’t trust Noah again because, doggone it, she was wavering.
“Spider, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She sat back and twirled a lock of hair around her fingers and stared at the monitor. Noah was sitting in the recliner in his living room now, a laptop on his knees. “I was wondering if you’d found out anything about Noah West yet.”
“Yeah. Been meaning to call you.” There was a muffled sound in the background. A feminine giggle. What on earth had she interrupted? But Kellan’s voice was normal when he continued, “Hate to admit it, but the guy’s solid. A friend of mine worked with him. Said West was the best claims investigator he’d ever dealt with, fair and precise, but apparently, he quit the gig six months ago. Whatever case he’s working now isn’t through any specific agency.”
“He said it was a freelance job.”
“Must be. Kind of hard to hate the guy when he does the same thing we do, huh?”
She mumbled a sound that could be interpreted as agreement, or not. She’d leave that up to him. “What case could he be investigating us for? Have you figured it out?”
“Afraid not. Working on it though. You got anything new?”
“Nope.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry I bothered you.”
“You’re never a bother, Spider. Call me anytime.”
Oh, how she loved that man when he said things like that. Ending the call, she traipsed back to her computer and checked for more emails from Noah. There was only one.
“Sometimes I get lonely in this house. Do you, over there?”
Totally random. What was he trying to accomplish with such a question? Make her feel sorry for him or something?
The Harry Potter movie she’d been trying to enjoy to keep her mind occupied and off of Noah and pesky ghosts was paused, frozen on the big screen TV across from her. Hermione stood fiercely pointing her wand, her face dirty, hair mussed from battle. It was as if the badass heroine was making a statement straight to Spider.
Be strong, girlfriend. Don’t take any of his crap.
She steeled her resolve.
The image of his face the night he’d returned, when he’d looked so lost and alone staring at the wall, pushed its way to the front of her mind. Perhaps this was a rare case of sincerity on his part. Pursing her lips, she typed, “No. I don’t feel alone with the boys here to keep me company. It’s nice. Maybe you should get a pet.” She hesitated before hitting SEND. She tacked on a few more words. “Why have you been watching us?”
A few minutes passed before he responded. “You’re a beautiful young woman, at night, alone. I watch to keep an eye on you … for safety’s sake.”
Putting away the happy thought of that to savour later, she smiled. “Thank you, although this neighbourhood appears to be quite non-threatening. Pretty sure I could have taken the grey-haired little lady we passed on our walk.”
A mental image of the old lady swishing her cane through the air, anime style, and Costello jumping up to hump the old gal in defence made her giggle. She covered her mouth. Maybe Noah had slipped some silly powder into her food.
Minutes passed as she imagined him typing a rant to argue with her facetious remark. His response, when it came, surprised her.
“Experienced any more ghost stuff?”
She leaned back and glanced around the room. The dogs were either curled up or stretched out on the carpet, snoozing. Abbott was no doubt still blissfully napping inside his new box.
“No. Is she bothering you? It’s been quiet here.”
So many minutes passed, it seemed likely he wasn’t going to reply.
Click.
“I have an appointment tomorrow to meet with the former owner of Wally’s. Claims he knew Kate well. Want to come?”
Pinching herself to make certain she hadn’t fallen asleep and was dreaming, she laughed. “What? I’ve been trying to get in touch with him!” She hesitated in typing her answer. Was this some kind of trick to get closer to her again?
Probably.
At least she knew that going in. “Yes, I want to come. When?”
She had a hair appointment in the morning she’d hate to reschedule, but this was more important. For the past two days, she’d essentially been stuck in the middle of a lake without a paddle. She waited for people to return her calls while she waded through old news reports, trying to detect a pattern between Kate’s disappearance and any others. And trying not to mope. Keeping herself occupied so she didn’t obsess over the handsome man across the street.
Click.
“1 p.m. I’ll drive.”
“We’ll see.” She hit SEND and waited for a reply. Disappointment weighed heavily in her chest when, after thirty minutes, she turned off her computer because he hadn’t responded.
It hadn’t gone unnoticed by her that he’d never answered her question about the ghost.
***
Noah blinked at the sunlight and slid a pair of sunglasses over his eyes before he locked up the house behind him.
He hadn’t gotten much sleep – again – thanks to the persistent dreams no amount of sleeping pills or setting up his private studio could shake. Nightmares of Kate Levine and the menacing, unknown driver always segued into feverish dreams of a more passionate nature involving Emma. Undressing her. Hearing her breath catch in his ear as his fingers sank into her moist, tight warmth. Tasting her lips as she came apart against him.
Forget seducing Emma. They were friends only.
He’d almost convinced himself he could treat her like one of his sisters, a friend, anything else, without messing up her life, maybe even without messing up his own. But unless he could get these ridiculous urges under control, they were both screwed.
He winced at the poor choice of words.
Turning, he saw Emma making her way across the street toward him, hugging her messenger bag to her side, walking with a confident edge in her stride that told him she was still not suffering fools lightly. She’d gone somewhere this morning, the first time in two days, and he was tempted to ask where, but … not his concern.
“For the record, I’m still mad at you,” she said in greeting, adjusting the strap of her bag, drawing attention to her hair. Long, ginger hair that was now streaked with blue. She tilted her head, probably to point out he was staring at it. “Also for the record, I wore this shirt for your benefit.”
His gaze fell to the writing on the blue t-shirt that matched the streaks in her hair. White lettering stated “You read my shirt. That’s enough social interaction for the day.” A smile tugged at his mouth.
“I like that one.”
He liked how the writing gave him an excuse to admire her chest.
She spun and headed for his
jeep, giving every indication she wasn’t impressed or didn’t care. Only the way her hand shook before she gripped the handle of her bag betrayed otherwise.
He circled around to open the door for her. That earned him an arched eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Well, thanks.” She hopped into the passenger seat and he shut the door behind her. His cell chirped out a ring, and seeing the caller ID, he answered it as he slid in beside her.
It was his new employer, wanting to discuss the class curriculum Noah had submitted last night. He kept the call short, ending with, “Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to meeting my students. See you then.”
He slid the phone back in his pocket and directed the car toward their destination.
“Wait a second. You’re really some kind of teacher?” Emma sent him a sideways look, eyes narrowed in disbelief.
He nodded. “I told you. I’m teaching photography at the local art college next semester.”
She snorted. “I didn’t realize there was a major called Stalking 101.”
He wasn’t going to keep apologizing to her. It was done. No changing the past. He’d spent the past two days thinking about her, wishing he could be different, wanting to be that guy who could give her everything she wanted. His garage was now cleaned out and he’d framed his best prints to hang in his future studio. And still, he couldn’t get this woman off his mind.
With a long sigh, she rubbed at her forehead. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” She lifted her gaze, and he saw the thaw there. Finally. “I haven’t been sleeping much.”
“Bad dreams?”
She nodded and looked out the window. “I asked Kate to communicate with me while I slept. I kind of wish I hadn’t. I still don’t know what she’s trying to tell me.”
“What kind of dreams have you been having?”
“They start out strange. I’m running through a forest. I think I’m being chased, and I hear water nearby. I think I fall, and that’s when I wake up. Does that make sense?”
He nodded, even though it didn’t match any of the dreams he’d been having.
She shifted against the door and looked at him again. She must have decided to be pleasant because she asked, “Anyway. What kind of photography do you do?”
He felt himself relax. “I enjoy landscapes, mainly. I had a showing at a gallery in Atlanta last September. Got offered the teaching gig after that.”
“That’s cool.” She turned her profile away to look out the window, but her silence spoke volumes. He’d surprised her. Good. Gripping the steering wheel so hard it squeaked beneath his hands, he squashed the hope that thought conjured. “I had hoped to open a portrait studio in my house to supplement my income soon, but my computer got fried and caused me a bit of a setback. Impossible to be a photographer without a computer these days.”
She shifted in her seat, crossed her arms, and refused to look at him. Guilting her into admitting she had a backup of his hard drive wouldn’t be easy. He’d keep trying though. He’d like to get back to the spreadsheets he’d started to organize his new business.
“Why did you take the case to investigate us?” Her quiet words were firm, demanding. She finally turned her head to watch him answer. “I know you quit your job a few months ago.”
Sucking in a deep breath before releasing it, slowly, he decided honesty was the best policy. “It paid well, and I needed extra funds for advertising. Simple as that.”
Her shoulders relaxed enough to be noticeable, but she said nothing else until they reached the mall.
“What are we doing here?” She scooted out, glancing around the parking lot.
“This is where the guy wanted to meet. He insisted on a public place.”
“That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”
“The guy doesn’t know us. Meeting in a public place seems pretty reasonable to me.”
Hand at her back, he directed her inside the entrance and toward the food court at the centre of the mall. Satisfaction that she allowed him the small, intimate gesture made him reluctant to remove his hand once they were inside, but he did.
“How are we supposed to find him?”
Noah’s gaze skittered across the late lunch crowd. “He said he’d be wearing a red bowtie.”
“At the mall?” Smiling, Emma helped search the crowd. She hit his arm and pointed out an older man sitting alone in front of the pizza place. “That’s got to be him. Come on.”
Grabbing his hand, she tugged him along after her, and he was happy to let her. It was embarrassing how these simple intimacies pleased him and gave him hope that … no. He wouldn’t go there.
He tugged his fingers free from hers and grabbed the back of the chair across from the heavy-set older man. Noah surveyed the man’s features. Black hair peppered with gray. Skin so tough it resembled leather.
“Mr. Holcomb?”
“West?”
Noah nodded, and the man stood to extend a hand in greeting. “This is my … friend, Emma. She’s helping me look into Kate’s disappearance. I hope you don’t mind that she joined me.”
Holcomb waved a dismissive hand and grumbled, “It’s fine.” He folded the newspaper in front of him and reclaimed his seat. Noah and Emma sat down across from him.
“I was surprised to get your call. No one’s asked about Kate in a long time.”
Noah leaned forward so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice above the chatter of the crowd. “What can you tell us about her disappearance?”
The man launched into a spiel, relaying all of the information they already knew from police reports and newspaper clippings.
When he finished, Noah reminded the man of their phone conversation. “You said you still had some things that belonged to her?”
Reaching down, Holcomb grunted an affirmative. He slung a plastic bag onto the table. “Found this stuff in one of the lockers I kept for employees. Offered it to the cops, but they didn’t want it. It’s a bunch of junk really. I don’t know why I held onto it all these years. Guess I kinda figured her kid might want it someday, but who knows where he ended up.”
Noah’s gaze jerked up to his at the comment. Did Holcomb suspect he could be Kate’s son? The man hadn’t even asked. Not for the first time, Noah wondered if he favoured the woman. He reached for the bag and looked inside.
A folded magazine advertisement for a Teddy Ruxpin doll tugged at his chest for a reason Noah couldn’t explain. A faded photograph showing Kate Levine standing behind a toddler, both smiling big for the camera, fell out of a spiral notebook filled with neat handwriting that described formulas and calculations.
That was all. Three simple things left behind to define a woman who might or might not be his mother.
Noah stared at the photograph, hand trembling slightly.
“Was she dating anyone that you knew about?” Emma asked. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard her ask the question.
Holcomb’s face wrinkled as he looked away, thinking. “She got asked out a lot. She was a pretty thing, but no, I don’t remember her seeing anyone.” He cleared his throat. “Wait a second. There was a guy who used to come in a lot and ask for her. I don’t think they were dating. I think he was just sniffing around, you know what I mean?”
Noah shifted, uncomfortable. “Did the police consider him a suspect?”
“Yeah, right. If it hadn’t been for that friend of hers contacting the paper and TV stations, I doubt the police would have looked for her at all, let alone narrowed down a suspect. Can’t count on the cops for nothin’.”
Noah could practically hear Emma grinding her teeth beside him. She leaned forward and stared daggers at the man. “Actually, the police serve quite a useful purpose. Unfortunately, they’re as understaffed, overworked, and underpaid as the rest of America, not to mention—”
Noah interrupted her tirade by placing his fingers on her thigh beneath the table and squeezing gently. Heat rad
iated from her body and warmed his palm, which itched to lie there for longer than necessary.
She shifted beneath his grip, knocking his hand away. “Anyway, I’m sure the police only stopped looking for Kate because they ran out of leads.”
Noah was eager to steer the conversation back to before she’d inserted her thoughts. “This guy who sniffed around. Do you remember his name?”
“Nah. That was a long time ago.”
“What about a guess? Initials?”
Holcomb looked away. “Could have been Jay. Jay something.”
“J.D.?” Noah asked, although he’d sworn not to ask any leading questions.
“J.D. Yeah, that’s what she called him. Wiry-looking fellow. Used to come in a lot when Kate worked, but I don’t know how well she knew him.”
“Any idea who might know who he was?”
Holcomb shrugged, clearly not interested in helping any further. “It was a long time ago.” He glanced at his watch and moved to his feet, looking around as if making sure no one was spying on them. “Like I said, I didn’t think I’d be much help. You can keep her stuff. No one else has ever come looking for it.”
When the man left, Noah barely noticed. He was too busy comparing the pictured woman’s sharp, angular features to the child’s and wondering if he shared any of those characteristics too.
Emma’s hand reached for his, grounding him again. “Can I look?” She took the photograph and stared at it. Her voice dropped to a whisper, tinged with sadness. “You can tell how much she loved him.” Her gaze returned to his, the hint of a smile playing at the edges of her lips, and she handed him the picture back. “How did you guess the name J.D.?” She leaned closer. “Are you still having dreams about her?”
Strawberries teased his nostrils, causing them to flare and luring him to lean even closer and take a better sniff of her hair. He held himself in check. “Yes. She calls the man in the car J.D.”
Emma’s slight gasp of surprise snapped him out of his pensive mood. Pushing to his feet, he grabbed the bag. “Let’s get out of here.”
Spirited Away Page 15
