"Where's your girlfriend?" I asked Jared casually as he slid into the seat next to mine.
Jared glanced sideways at me and replied, "She's not my girlfriend, and I don't think we'll be seeing any more of her for a while."
I frowned at him in confusion. "Oh, is that right? Could've fooled me, the way you two were practically connected at the hip. Where'd she go off to?"
"Rehab."
I nearly choked on the cherry in my champagne. "Rehab! Really? But she was just with you guys when you left Castle Rock a couple of hours ago. What happened?"
Jared glanced over at Bobby, who was leaning forward through the divider and regaling the driver with one of his wild party stories, sloshing champagne across the front seat as he gestured with the hand that held his glass. Jared leaned closer to me. "There was a van waiting to pick her up when we got back to the hotel. Someone got tired of seeing her throw her life away for a cocaine addiction and decided to call and get her the help she needed." He winked at me, and I felt my heart soften towards him. He was the one who made the call. I remembered how he seemed to be ignoring her as she used at the bar the night before—he must've not wanted to tip her off that she'd be getting sent off to get help.
"Wow. I wish her a speedy recovery," I said softly, and I meant it. "What about your drummer? Did you send him off too?"
Jared smile. "Nah, he's still around. He just decided to call it an early night. Cliff's not much of a partier."
"You don't say?" I stifled a laugh, trying to picture the quiet, serious drummer letting loose on something other than his drum kit. I turned to gaze out the window at the beautiful Atlanta skyline. "I love the city lights at night," I said, changing the subject.
I felt the heat of Jared's skin as his hand gently closed over my wrist. "Tell me something, Amelia," he said quietly. I fought hard to hold back the desire welling up inside me, ready to bubble to the surface at a moment's notice. "Why are you trying so hard to find out who killed your boss? Shouldn't you leave that to the police?"
Talk about a mood killer. I wrenched my arm from his grasp. "What business is it of yours?" I asked warily, perhaps a little too loudly. Bobby paused his story time with our chauffeur and eyed me with mild interest. After a moment, he looked down at his nearly empty glass of Dom Pérignon and decided that it deserved his full attention.
I leveled a frosty look at Jared. "Parker wasn't just my boss, you know," I said, my tone defensive. "He was my friend."
"I get that," Jared said gently, holding up his hands in surrender. "I don't want to fight with you—it's just that it's dangerous enough to hunt down a killer when you're getting paid to do it—like the cops are. Yet here you are, risking your life for free."
I dropped my eyes to the limousine floor, considering his words. So I'd nearly been killed in a high-speed chase with a potential murderer. True, that was no picnic, but I was doing what I had to do to clear both Reese's and Kat's names. When it came down to it, I couldn't stand idly by and watch their world get ripped apart—because it was my world too. "I'll do anything to take care of the people I love."
Jared nodded, a small smile spreading on his lips. "That's an admirable trait, that." The smile faltered. "I'd just hate to see you get hurt."
You and me both, I thought. "I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself. That, and it seems I've got a couple of guardian angels." I nodded to Bobby and him with a half-smile. "It was pretty lucky that you two came along tonight right after our accident."
Jared muttered something under his breath. He met my curious gaze and opened his mouth to say something more, but Bobby had turned around for another refill of champagne and decided to join in the conversation. "We saw you and that radio bloke speeding down the street in that bloody van, and this kook insisted that we follow you." He gestured to Jared with his champagne glass. "Next thing we knew, the van was sliding clear across the bloody road. He freaked and made our driver pull over."
I eyed Jared suspiciously. "You were following me? Why?"
It was Jared's turn to blush. His gaze dropped guiltily to the floor. He ran his hand over his short black hair. "I saw that you were chasing that truck. I thought you might need help."
A smile curled my lips. It was kind of sweet that he'd been worried about me. "Thanks, but I can take care of myself."
Several minutes later, the driver pulled into the turn-around in front of my apartment building. Jared held out a hand to stop the driver from opening my door and climbed out to do it himself. I couldn't help but swoon a little at his chivalry.
Bobby rolled down one of the windows and poked his head out to bid me goodnight, and I thanked him for the ride and wished him well on the rest of his tour. My star struck feelings for Glitter from my youth had faded in the short time since I'd met him, and, truth be told, I was a little relieved that my business with him was done.
Jared walked me to the apartment building entrance. He opened the front door to the complex but remained standing in the threshold. "Look, Amelia," he began. "I need you to make me a promise."
"Yeah?" I searched his face. Worry lines creased his forehead.
"I want you to promise that you'll be careful. Don't go after Shawn Stone on your own—and that doesn't mean that you should call up your radio boyfriend to go with you. Let the police handle Stone." His voice was pleading. "You really don't know who you're dealing with."
I frowned. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm not giving up this fight until I find out who did this to Parker and Laura—and see that they're brought to justice. I won't let my friends take the rap for this." I paused. "And Tony's not my boyfriend." Not exactly.
"He isn't? Good," Jared said. He stepped forward, catching me off guard as he grabbed my arm. He pulled me close to him, so that his chin almost rested on the crown of my head. "You deserve better." He reached down to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. Jared cupped my face, lowering his own to mine. I sucked in a breath. He was standing so close to me, and I suddenly didn't know if I could stay that near to him without completely losing my cool. As his lips drew closer to mine I stopped breathing, waiting for him to make that one delicious move that would push me over the edge.
At the last possible second, Jared hesitated. His lips found my ear instead. "Take care of yourself, Amelia," he whispered. He let go of me and walked slowly to the limousine without looking back.
I released the breath I'd been holding. As he reached the limo, I turned away, walking as steadily as I could to the elevator, trying to appear calm though my legs suddenly felt like rubber. When I was safely inside my apartment, I took that cold shower. And drank ice water. And I slept with the AC on high.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ever have one of those mornings where you just don't want to wake up? Where all you want to do is tell your alarm clock where to shove it and then roll over and cruise on back to La La Land? That was pretty much my sentiment on Thursday morning when my alarm chirped its annoyingly chipper "Good Morning" song about three hours before my body felt was a reasonable time.
I slammed a grumpy hand down on the snooze button. What was the point of getting up, anyway? Despite the somewhat steamy end to my evening, the night before had been a disaster. Laura was in the hospital, Reese was in jail, Kat was the top suspect in Parker's murder—and we'd lost Bobby's final show to the Beat Barn. Everything was crashing down around and me, and I felt powerless to stop it.
After a shower and some breakfast, I begrudgingly called a towing company to have my car taken to Pep Boys for a replacement battery. I rode shotgun in a dust-covered "Mike's Towing Service" truck alongside a beast of a man named Marv. His gigantic gut flapped over his belt, and his grey collared Mike's shirt was too short by about an inch, give or take. I tried to make small talk to distract myself from gawking at his exposed hairy belly, but Marv wasn't much of a talker. He dropped me off at Pep Boys and unhooked my car, and I shelled out some cash into his grubby waiting hand, wishing I'd switched to AAA last year so I'd hav
e gotten free towing with a more personable driver. Sigh.
I placed an order at the service desk to replace my battery, and on a whim I decided to get my oil changed and tires rotated while I was at it. I knew I'd thank myself later when I had a few less car-related problems to worry about. While the Jetta was being serviced, I got tired of sitting in the uncomfortable metal lobby chair and got up to stroll around the store to stretch my legs. I perused aisle after aisle, marveling at the vast number of car parts that I couldn't identify. One aisle end-cap showcased several shelves of what, to my untrained eye, looked like steel rods, about two feet in length, with metal cylinders and screws on the ends of them. I stared hard at the shelf for a long moment, certain that one of these strange-looking rods had caused our crash the night before. A Pep Boys passed by, and I flagged him over. "What are these?" I asked, picking one up and turning it over in my hands.
The young man glanced down at the steel pole in my hand and grinned. "You're the second person to come in asking about those today. What you've got there is called a tie rod," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"A whoza whatzit?" I arched a brow. "I'm not exactly what you'd call a 'car person.' Auto terms are like Greek to me."
He gave an understanding nod. "A tie rod is the piece that connects the steering parts of your car to the wheel and axle. It works by turning the wheels when you turn your steering wheel."
"Ah, I see." I thanked him for his assistance and placed the tie rod back on the shelf. I wandered back over to the service lobby and sat back down, remembering how up close and personal I'd almost seen one of those same rods as it was careening toward Tony's windshield. At least now I knew what had been in the bed of the truck: car parts. Did I know anyone who drove a dark truck full of car parts?
I didn't get a chance to see that train of thought through to the end of the tunnel because just then the cashier called me up to the service desk to pay for my repairs and retrieve my keys. I skipped across the parking lot to my Jetta, thankful not to have to ride the bus or catch another ride in a dirty tow truck.
Easing into the driver's seat, I tilted the rear-view mirror to check my reflection—and caught sight of a dark green truck full of tie rods pulling out of the exit behind me. The bed on the truck was wide open, just like the truck from the previous night. Even though it was too dark the night before for me to tell the exact color of the vehicle, my gut told me this was the same pickup truck that we'd chased down the interstate.
Here's my chance! I whipped out of the parking spot and peeled across the lot, leaving tire marks on the asphalt. You're not getting away this time! If I could catch up to the truck driver, I could find out who was snooping around Castle Rock last night. Then maybe I could prove that Kat and Reese were innocent.
I halted at the exit, my head scouring the road for the dark green truck. It was two lights away, heading south. I floored the gas pedal and shot out of the Pep Boys lot. A car narrowly missed T-boning my Jetta as I swerved onto the street in front of him. The angry driver blasted his car horn at me. "Sorry!" I gave a sheepish wave, glancing in my rear-view. I glanced in the mirror to see him flailing his hands about and probably calling me every dirty name in the book.
I tailed the truck from a distance, closing the gap between us from two stoplights to one. We merged onto the freeway and cruised for two exits before turning off in the direction of Castle Rock. Could he be going back for something else? I wondered, nervously chewing my thumbnail as I mashed the gas to catch up before the next traffic light. The light at Spring and North turned from green to yellow, and the white Buick in front of me came to a stop. There was a car in the other lane, so I couldn't swerve around them and make it through before the light turned red. "Dammit!" I pounded the steering wheel with a frustrated sigh and jumped as my horn blared its high-pitched honk! Whoops. The driver of the Buick made a show of twisting his upper body around in the driver's seat to give me the stink eye. Atlanta drivers are so touchy!
After what felt like the longest red light in the history of that intersection, it finally changed to green, and I zipped into the other lane behind a black Xterra, passing Mr. Slowpoke. I drove for a couple more blocks in the same direction, scanning the road for any sign of the truck. I'd lost him. Disappointed, I cruised down North Avenue, debating what my next move should be. The salesman at Pep Boys had mentioned another person looking for tie rods this morning— the driver of the truck must have been there to replace the one he'd lost the night before. Maybe if I went back to the shop, I could ask for a description of the person who'd been looking for them.
As I sat at the next light, debating a return trip to Pep Boys, I absentmindedly scanned the ads on the billboards. The first displayed announced the grand re-opening of one of Owen Jefferson's Florida venues, Rock Beach, with the addition of a new casino on the top floor. The advertisement featured Stacy and her father standing next to a slot machine, with a view of the ocean behind them. Great, I thought bitterly. Now I'll have to see her horrible face every time I drive to Castle Rock.
The next billboard advertised a florist, and it showed a girl in a hospital bed, surrounded by flowers. "Brighten their day," it said. Hmm. Maybe I should pick some flowers for Laura and her family on behalf of the Castle Rock staff. Since I couldn't get any work done in my office thanks to Sinclair's orders, I might as well go check on Laura at the hospital. I hadn't heard back from her parents to say that she was awake yet, but I was sure they would appreciate some support. I noted the florist's address on the billboard and turned left onto Peachtree Street at the next light.
The tinny jingling of the doorbell announcing my arrival to the shop, and a tall, perky blonde with a nametag that read "Savanna" greeted me. "Welcome to Floral Finesse! How can I help you today?" she beamed at me as I approached the counter.
"I have a co-worker friend who is in the hospital, and I'd like to order an arrangement for her." I paused and chewed my lip in thought. I didn't know Laura's favorite flower—or what type of arrangement was appropriate to send to someone in the ICU, for that matter. "What would you recommend?"
Savanna flashed me a brilliant smile and stepped around the counter. "In my opinion, seasonal arrangements are always the best bet—something long-lasting, and with a mild fragrance." Her eyes lit up, and she snapped her fingers. "I know just the thing!" She trotted to a table in the back. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I hurried after her, equally excited.
As I watched, Savanna whirled about her worktable, brushing aside stray leaves and petals and gathering some raffia ribbon and a lovely, dark green pot from the shelves behind her. She worked quickly, her nimble fingers flying this way and that, like the Edward Scissorhands of flora. The end result was stunning: a gorgeous arrangement of deep burgundy roses, orange lilies, three sun flowers, and sprigs of autumn leaves filled the green pot. She completed the package by tying a bow of deep yellow raffia around the pot. It matched the rich golden petals of the sunflowers perfectly.
"Whaddya think?" She handed the pot of flowers over to me for inspection.
"It's perfect!" I gushed, admiring the delightful array of fall blossoms. "I'll take it." Savanna carried the arrangement over to the cash register up front and produced from behind the counter a small card and plastic holder. I scribbled a sincere "Get Well" message into the card and signed it, "From your Castle Rock family" before sliding it through the plastic prongs and sticking the holder in the middle of the arrangement.
"That'll be forty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents," Savanna informed me as she punched a few buttons on the cash register. I slid my credit card and signed the slip, and then I was off and on my way again.
I pulled into the parking deck of Emory University hospital at a quarter past two in the afternoon, sticking my parking ticket in the dash before heading back through the sliding doors to the ER. I smiled to myself as I carried the beautiful flower arrangement through the doors, knowing it would brighten Laura's and her mother's days. My smile faded as I approache
d the lobby, however, and took in the heart-wrenching scene. Theresa Holly was on her knees in the waiting room, sobbing. Her husband, Peter, knelt beside her, gripping her tightly as he shed his own tears. A few nurses and a family member or two that I recognized—like Laura's cousin, Shannon—were crowded around them with grief-filled expressions.
Several heads turned as they registered my arrival. Theresa brushed a few tear-soaked strands of her light brown hair from face. She peered up at me from the floor. The pain in her eyes was enough to spring tears to my own. She stared at me helplessly for a several moments before dissolving into sobs once more. Peter wept into her hair. Shannon broke away from the group and made her way over to me, her grief written all over her face. I knew what she was going to tell me before the words even left her lips. "She didn't make it, Amelia. Laura's gone."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"When did she die?" I asked Shannon fifteen minutes later as we sipped coffee in the hospital cafeteria. My exquisite flower arrangement sat forgotten on a table somewhere back in the lobby, next to the grieving Holly family. I had wanted to offer my condolences but didn't want to intrude on their private moment of sorrow. Shannon graciously offered to step into the cafeteria with me for a cup of joe while I processed the tragic news.
"Only a half hour before you got here." Shannon grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and dabbed at her tearful green eyes. "She never regained consciousness. She was stable last night after surgery and seemed to be improving, but then this afternoon she was just…gone. Her parents were here in the cafeteria when it happened. They left her room to grab some food—Aunt 'Resa hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. A doctor came looking for them soon after to tell them the news. Apparently she just stopped breathing."
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