Her fingers clenched the wet paper towels when she spotted the sodden newspaper. It lay open, the week’s obituaries in view. There at the top of the page was the tow truck driver.
“Oh no.” she scrambled to her feet then spread the soggy paper across the counter.
Frank Owen’s black and white picture smiled up at her. He looked just like she remembered him, balding and stout. The only difference was he wore his Sunday best and not the grease-covered coveralls she’d last seen him in. Scanning the obit, she learned that he’d died the same night she’d hit Sully’s motorcycle. He was survived by a wife and two grown children.
Morbid curiosity arose within her. Perhaps Anna was right about James Sullivan after all. Maybe he really was a Reaper and had caused this man’s demise. Come to think of it, she recalled seeing something on the news the night before about a wreck involving a tow truck. The driver had suffered a massive heart attack and swerved into the other lane. The truck had flipped and killed the driver. No one else was injured, and no other vehicles were involved, but she vaguely recalled seeing a mangled silver motorcycle in the twisted wreckage.
Goosebumps arose on her skin, and a nervous jitter tripped down her spine.
“It can still be useful,” Micah whispered the words Sully had told her about the damaged machine.
A shadow passed by the other side of the breakfast bar. Its silhouette appeared long and misshapen. Atop its head sat what appeared to be a … hat? Micah jerked her head up and peered around the corner, but saw no one. A vibration of panic seized her. Had the creepy guy she'd seen in her car been there?
The pit of her stomach bottomed out, and her limbs shook. Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she rubbed them furiously. “What the hell is going on?”
Seconds later, the doorbell rang. Micah yelped then realized what it was and felt like an idiot. This Reaper business had made her way too jumpy.
She slung the front door open, scaring the crap out of the woman standing there. Her dark eyes widened, and her mouth formed a surprised circle. She readjusted the leather tote on her shoulder. “Micah, wow, I hardly recognize you. Ben warned me, but I didn’t believe it.”
“Do I know you?” Of course she didn’t, but the old Micah probably did.
“It’s me, Diane. Diane Harmon.” She was older than Micah, but only by a few years. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail that accentuated the almond shape of her eyes. Diane's clothing was expensive, tailored jeans and a green silk blouse. Micah wondered if she even owned a pair of sweats.
Diane forced a smile. “I hate to bother you on the weekend, but do you think we could talk for a few minutes?”
Stepping aside, Micah swept her arm toward the kitchen, inviting the woman inside. So this was Diane Harmon? Karla had suggested they didn’t get along and hinted that Diane wanted to fire her, but maybe that was just an old Micah problem. She couldn’t think of any reason she and Diane couldn’t start anew.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Diane said then perched herself on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. After she set up her laptop and got some paperwork out, she offered a sheepish smile. “I need a favor. I’d rather not rely on you, but I really have no choice in the matter.”
Micah stood on the other side of the bar, arms crossed over her chest. Diane didn’t seem to want to be here, and she was in a hurry, hurry let’s get this done mindset. Micah narrowed her gaze and sneered. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Diane.”
Diane pursed her lips then looked away. A slight flush colored her cheeks.
Micah leaned a shoulder against the refrigerator. “I’m fine by the way. Spent a week in the hospital in a coma, or so I’m told. I can’t actually remember anything before waking up. They thought I was dead and pulled the plug, but I’m fine now. Thanks for asking.”
Diane’s shoulders drooped, and she frowned. “That was rude of me, wasn’t it? How are you holding up, Micah? Really?”
Micah slid onto a stool, leaving an empty one between them. “Honestly? It’s been difficult. I feel like a stranger in my own life.” There, that wasn’t a total lie. “Look, I’ve been told that you and I didn’t get along, but I have no idea why. Can’t we just start over, like we’re meeting for the first time?”
Diane studied her for a moment through narrowed eyes. When she spoke, venom practically dripped from her words. “I think you slept with my husband.”
Micah’s stomach bottomed out, and she took a shaky breath. Her mouth fell open, but she didn’t know what to say.
Diane said, “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but the signs were all there. He got drunk at last year’s Christmas party, and you’ve had a crush on him since you started working at the office. You left the party early, and he disappeared shortly after. He started working later and later and would come home smelling of perfume. What else would I think?”
“Diane…” Micah thought she might throw up. Surely old Micah hadn’t done the nasty with her employer’s husband. “No, I’d never do that.”
“Ben and I have been married for seven years.” Diane laid her hands atop the bar and studied her manicured nails. “Now that you’ve come back, you’re all he can talk about.”
“Diane, that doesn’t mean…”
“And I can see why,” Diane said. “Just look at you. Everything about you has changed. You’re gorgeous.”
Micah was going out on a limb here. “I’m not interested in Ben, Diane. I don’t even remember him before the accident. Surely if there was something intimate between us, I’d remember it. Or he’d say something to me about it.”
The kitchen fell into an uneasy silence after that, and Micah allowed Diane a moment to gather her thoughts. When she couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer, she said, "If you're going to fire me, do it quick and get it over with.”
Diane reared back to scowl at her. "I'm a ferocious business woman, but even I'm not that heartless. I actually need your help.”
Micah looked away, wishing Anna was here to offer some form of encouragement.
“I don’t want to put you on the spot, but do you think you’d be able to show a few houses? Karla…” Diane rolled her eyes at the mention of the secretary. “Karla thinks you were in a vegetative state for too long, and how did she put it? Oh yes, ‘you don’t remember squat’.”
“Karla is a bitch,” Micah said flatly.
“She really is.” Diane smoothed a hand over her dark tresses. “She’s the one who suggested Ben was sleeping with you. I don’t know what’s true anymore.”
Micah snuck a quick glance in Diane’s direction with the hope that she might read something in her body language. “So what are you going to do?”
Diane shrugged. “Ben hasn’t sold a house in months because he’d rather play golf or hang out with his buddies. I’m so confused right now, Micah. I don’t know if I want to fight for him or just let him go.”
“I’m sorry.” Micah’s gaze flicked to hers. “I wish I had an answer for you.”
“He’s been pretty useless lately. He comes home late. He’s still being secretive and says he has a headache or whatever. He just seems so distant. He sells a house every now and then, but generally if the buyer is interested, he just passes them off to me. Or you, before the accident.”
Diane studied Micah a moment, and she seemed on the verge of saying something more, but pressed her lips into a thin line at the last moment.
“What?”
Diane’s dark eyes looked at everything in the kitchen but her. “I saw him kiss you. It was beneath the mistletoe at the Christmas party.”
Her mouth fell open to deny this, but what should she say exactly? She licked her lips then said, “But that was just a peck, right? It wasn’t full on mouth, was it?”
“I don’t think so. It was so long ago, I don’t recall exactly.” Diane sighed then looked at her. “At the time, I thought you had planned to be beneath the mistletoe at that moment. Your hands came up to his chest,
and I don’t know … Maybe you were just pushing him away.”
Micah raised a brow. Based on what Diane had shared, it certainly sounded like he was up to something. Still, that did not mean she would continue whatever the old Micah had left off. “Do you love him?”
“Yes, I…” Diane’s shoulders slumped again, and she let out a slow breath. “I don’t know. Things have changed between us. The last two years have been rough. I feel like we’re moving in opposite directions.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” Micah asked gently.
Tears shimmered in Diane’s dark eyelashes. “I just want to be happy again, Micah. I need to feel like I’m loved and not just a ball and chain. He makes me feel like a burden. Everything feels so … obligatory.”
Micah gripped Diane’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have to do what’s best for you, sweetie. You can’t keep doing the same things over and over again if it’s making you miserable.”
“I know, but I don’t want to make a huge mistake that I’ll regret.” Diane swiped at the tears that trailed down her cheeks. “What if I can’t do better? What if he’s the one I’m supposed to be with?”
“What about love, happiness, and trust?” Micah asked. “You deserve those things, Diane. Everyone does. Have you asked Ben if he cheated on you?”
Diane laughed miserably. “He denies it and tells me to stop being so insecure. Then he buys me something pretty, like I’ll just forget all about it.”
“It sounds like you’ve got some heavy thinking to do. You’re not alone, okay? I’m here, and I support you.” Micah said, meaning every word of it.
“Thank you.” Diane’s watery gaze lifted to meet Micah’s. “Then again, I could have just warned you that I’m onto you and Ben.”
“Diane,” Micah said in warning.
A half smile found its way to Diane’s face. “I’m kidding.”
They sat in silence for several seconds while Diane composed herself. Finally, she turned to Micah with an apologetic expression. “I hate to stick you with this as soon as you come back, but Ben will just find a way to screw it up. Can you show some houses next week? Do you think you’re ready?”
Diane was worried that Ben would mess it up? Well, there was better than a fifty percent chance that she would, too. “Sure, I guess so.”
“There’s just one thing.” Diane made this kind of scrunched, apologetic expression. “One of the houses I want you to show…”
Micah was sure she wasn’t going to like this. Sliding off the stool, she rounded the bar to rummage through the fridge for two Perrier waters and sandwich makings. Diane jumped up to help build the sandwiches while Micah found plates and condiments.
“So what is it? This house you want me to show … is it haunted?” Micah laughed inwardly at that. “Is it a million dollar eyesore?”
Diane took a bite of the sandwich and groaned. “Oh, this is good. What kind of turkey is it?”
“Come on, Diane. What about the house?”
She took her time swallowing then wiped her mouth. “Right. There’s really no easy way to say this. I want you to show the house where you drowned. Put it back on your listings. You know it like the back of your hand. You’ve dealt with the seller, and you know what a prima donna she is.”
Micah's appetite dwindled, and she dropped the half eaten sandwich onto her plate. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m really sorry.” Diane lowered her gaze. “Show all the houses you want, but I really think it’s a mistake not to show that one. The house is gorgeous, and it needs to be back on the market.”
“Why can’t you show it?” Truthfully, the house held no memories for her, but if she was going to sell this whole “I’m Micah” act, she figured she should pretend to be affronted.
“I have to be in L.A. for jury duty on Monday. It’s a federal case, and I can’t get out of it. I don’t even know how long I’ll be gone. It could be a week, maybe longer.”
Micah stared at her for a moment. “Fine.”
“One other thing.” Diane grinned. “I have a guy interested in looking at a few houses. He’ll stop by the office Monday.”
Tapping her fingernails against the granite countertop, Micah narrowed her gaze on Diane. “And I can show him any property I want?”
“After you talk with him, you can do what you think is best.” Diane smoothed her hand over her hair again.
Micah let out a slow breath. “Yeah, okay. What the hell. I’ll add the Andreas Hills house to my listings.”
Diane thrust her fist in the air. “Yes! I knew I could count on you.” She pulled a keying from her purse. “The silver one is for the storage units. Use anything from them that you need. The other one goes to the office. You’re in charge until I get back.”
They talked about business and life for the rest of the evening. By the time Diane was ready to leave, Micah discovered she actually kind of liked her.
As Diane was leaving, Micah asked, “What about the client? Do you already have properties picked out for him, or am I flying by the seat of my pants here?”
“You’re flying.” Diane grinned at her. “He just called today, so I haven’t had a chance to set up anything for him yet.”
“Awesome, can’t wait to meet him.” Micah smiled though she was still a little worried about the whole selling houses thing.
“When I spoke to him over the phone, he said he’d meet you at the office on Monday around noon. He seems very nice.” Diane hugged her and smiled. “Thanks so much, Micah. You’re a lifesaver.”
Chapter Five
James Sullivan glanced at his watch. The target would be arriving any minute now. He leaned back on the motorcycle’s seat and stretched his legs out for balance.
The beige BMW pulled into its reserved space. He knew it would take the woman driving it a few minutes to get out. She’d have to check her hair and face in the mirror first, then get the little frou-frou doggie out.
Sully smirked. That dog would be the death of her.
He strode across the street just as Barbie—that really was her name—thrust a tan leg out of the car. She did her damnedest to gain control of the yappy-ass dog and the packages from the high end stores she’d visited earlier in the day. Shame she wouldn’t get to try on any of that fantastic lingerie she’d purchased.
The dog pulled away from her when she turned to shut the car door. Its leash trailed behind like a dead limb. Barbie shrieked at the pint sized pooch and made kissy noises, demanding he come back this instant. The dog continued its run for freedom.
Sully snatched the leash just as it snaked past his boot and halted the dog before it crossed the street. Barbie dropped her bags, cried out in relief then hurried toward them.
The woman spoke to the pooch in a cooing, babyish voice. “Are you trying to get yourself killed, Mr. Tootles?”
If she wasn’t about to die already, Sully might have been inclined to push her into oncoming traffic. Instead, he glanced down at the shivering, bug-eyed Chihuahua. Mr. Tootles? No wonder the dog had attempted suicide. He scooped the tiny dog up and handed it to her, making sure his fingers grazed her hand in the exchange.
“Thanks so much.” Her eyes conveyed interest as though she’d just realized she was in the presence of an attractive male. Her flirtatious laughter made him grind his teeth. She even attempted to press a breast against his arm. “How can I ever thank you?”
“No problem.” He turned and walked away, uninterested. Fake tits, fake tans, fake smiles. He usually wasn’t into any of that. Besides, he glanced at his watch, she is destined to expire in a matter of moments.
She stared dumbly at his retreat, like she couldn’t believe he’d turn her down. She probably thought most guys considered her a prime piece of ass.
Sully cast one last glance at her and lifted a brow, reconsidering. Too bad she didn’t have more time for him to stay and play. Girls like Barbie provided a no strings attached, emotionless fuck before they died. W
hen he finished with them, they kicked the bucket, then went on to the other side. He never saw them again, and that was fine with him.
He swung a leg over the saddle of his bike and waited. Already Barbie was headed up the steep metal stairs that led to the third floor apartments. Mr. Tootles barked at some imagined thing on the ground below then managed to squirt right out of her grasp. The woman leaned forward, made a grab at the dog then teetered on the platform heels strapped to her feet. She lost balance, sending the bright colored bags flying from her outstretched hands. She tottered there on the top step for what seemed an eternity before finally taking a nose dive.
Sully watched her ragdoll body flop and roll down the vertical stairs. Death would claim Barbie seconds after her bleach blonde head struck the concrete.
As soon as her soul lifted, confused and angry at the still yapping dog that was around the corner of the building, Sully returned to her. He indicated the door that appeared beneath the stairwell. “It’s time to move on.”
“What about Mr. Tootles?”
Like I give a flying fuck about that bug-eyed excuse for a dog. “He’ll be fine. I’m sure the old lady next door will take him in.” He was lying his ass off, but if it hurried things along…
“She does think he’s adorable, said so a million times.” Barbie cast one last glance in the dog’s direction. She avoided looking at the broken heap of flesh and bone at the foot of the stairs. “You’re sure he’ll be okay?”
“Positive,” he said with his most charming smile. “It’s time to go, Barbie doll.”
She didn’t question it or argue, just turned and stumbled on those damned high heels toward the door. Her fingers gripped the knob and turned it quickly. Perhaps she felt it best to do it fast, like tearing a bandage off sensitive skin. With one final glance at him, she went through, and it eased shut behind her.
Minutes later, he navigated his favorite bike downtown and ignored the ambulance that flew past on the other side of the street. The somber siren song that it warbled for Barbie faded around the corner.
Sully parked outside Harmon Real Estate then killed the engine. He was a little early, but it didn’t matter. He’d already spotted the black mini cooper parked several cars down. Micah Munroe—or at least a phony version of her—was here. He hoped to get the information he needed as quickly as possible then get out. What he’d do with the information once he had it was still a mystery.
Light the Shadows (A Grimm Novel) Page 4
