Bombshell

“Henry, what’s wrong?” As if she didn’t know.

“Are you going to tell me about Delsey, Anna, where she went?”

“Delsey went to Washington, like Mr. Chivers told you. Wouldn’t you be afraid to stay if you found a dead man in your bathtub?”

“Well, yeah, I guess, but she should have told me.”

“Henry, did Mr. Chivers tell you anything else?”

“Nope. He started whistling, you know how he is, and strolled away, hitching up those ratty old wool pants of his, snapping his suspenders. I called after him, but he kept whistling, wouldn’t say anything else.”

“Where did you see him?”

“He was sitting outside the hardware store, shooting the breeze, as usual. Why were you out there with Delsey, Anna?”

“Because I’m her best friend. I was glad to see her off because it still might not be safe for her here in Maestro. You know she would have said good-bye to you if she’d had time.”

“Well, tell her hi for me if you talk to her.”

Anna watched him walk out, stroking his goatee. She realized she was exhausted, too little sleep, running her feet off, but more than that was the fear. Fear drained you faster than hauling a wet carpet. She hated to be afraid, hated she had to own up to it. She wasn’t going to stay to the end of her shift. It was time to leave.

Maurie didn’t mind, since there were only a dozen customers left. She was bundled up in her winter togs and out the door and into her Kia within five minutes, on her way to Wolf Trap Road to pack. She knew Mr. Chivers had told everyone who’d come into his orbit about seeing her, no doubt in her mind, and if he had overheard them talking, he’d probably said a great deal more to many of them. Dr. Hayman knew she’d lied to him. Who would he tell? His brother? Did it matter? She didn’t know, but she knew she couldn’t take a chance.

She took a corner too fast and the car tipped for one terrifying second before she got traction again. She felt as though she’d jump out of her seat if the steering wheel wasn’t in the way. Pay attention. She was about to fish her cell out of her pocket to call Griffin when it gave its familiar ring, a worn-out razor buzz.

“Are you home yet?”

“Not yet. Another seven minutes.”

“I forgot to ask you when your shift ended.”

“I should have called you, but all I could think about was getting away. My gut was right. I’m busted.”

“I’m five minutes behind you.” And Griffin punched off before she could even say Mr. Chivers’s name.

She was spooked, a premonition again. She passed two cars with single men driving them, their faces indistinct in the dull late-afternoon light. She watched until she saw them turn off.

She mentally packed a few things in her duffel. She’d be ready to leave the instant Griffin pulled in. She looked in her rearview mirror at a black SUV, but it was way back. When she turned onto Wolf Trap Road she realized she didn’t want to go near her charming cottage in the lovely dense woods, not when it would be dark in an hour, not with the winter wind whipping the tree branches into a mad frenzy. She hated that she was afraid.

She pulled into her driveway, cut the engine, and the world became quiet as a tomb. Even the wind seemed dead now. She locked her hands on the steering wheel and stared out the car window at the trees, huddled together like dark monoliths, brooding and waiting, the dark clouds weighing down on everything.

She didn’t want to open the car door, didn’t want to walk the twenty or so steps to her front entrance, out in the open, for anyone hiding in the woods to see her, and what? Shoot her? No, there was no one there. Anna calmed herself and her breathing. She was a strong, smart, well-trained DEA agent. There was no reason for her to let her imagination run away with her, no reason to get freaked out. If there were bad men out to get her, she’d shoot them first, no problem. She’d face things head-on and not feel terrified at what could be hiding behind all those heavy shadows that cloaked the trees. And there wasn’t anything there. There wasn’t.

Everything was as it should be, even if the shapeless low-hanging clouds made everything seem otherworldly, like the devil himself was nearby, counting souls.

Don’t run in the house to pack; don’t get out of your car. Stay locked in and safe. No, don’t wait for Griffin, leave now. Who needs clean underwear?

A laugh spurted out. That last thought was too much for her to stand. She opened the car door and eased out, her Glock clutched at her side in one hand, her keys fisted in the other hand. She could kill with a gun or with her keys, didn’t matter, she was ready.