Not Quite Perfect

“That didn’t stop someone from breaking in the first time. Could Dakota have sent you—”

“No. I talk to Dakota almost every day. Told her about the flowers, sang your praises about the soup. If she was the one who put them on my doorstep, she would have said something.”

He heard her sneeze.

“This is freaking me out, Glen. If you didn’t send them . . . who did?”

“Someone who wanted to remain anonymous.”

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“Nothing . . . I . . . he doesn’t know where I live either.” She was talking to herself.

“Who doesn’t know where you live?”

“No one. I’m tired. I’m going home,” she said.

“Call me when you walk in the door. I should be at the airport by then.”

“I will.”

“Promise me. In forty-five minutes if I haven’t heard from you, I’m calling Officer Taylor.”

“I promise. Please fly safe.”

“I always do, sweetheart.”

Glen hung up the phone long enough to reset a dial tone.

Trent answered on the second ring.

“I need a copilot.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Now. I need you now. I don’t have time to see who else is available.”

“Is everything okay?”

“No, I don’t think so. I have a bad feeling that won’t go away. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t—”

“Glen, say no more. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mary’s car was parked all the way around the back of the building. She’d been so overwhelmed with the entire day she’d forgotten to move it after the other staff had left. She chastised herself for inviting problems and took a good look around the empty lot as she approached her car.

A shadow on the driver’s door made her stop . . . but after a couple more steps, she realized it wasn’t a shadow at all.

The word slut was written in what looked like a black marker on the driver’s-side door.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Mary was on the fast train to her breaking point. She walked around her car, found the same sentiment on the passenger door.

She swung the door open and threw her purse into the passenger seat.

“Mary?”

She swiveled to find Kent walking toward her.

“Hey.”

“I heard you yelling.”

She stood back and showed him her car.

“Oh, that’s not good.” He did a three-sixty turn. “Do you think whoever did this is still out here?”

“No. I think whoever did this is a coward!” She yelled the last word in case Mr. or Mrs. Golf was within earshot.

“Did you want to call the police?”

“No. I just want to crawl into bed and forget this day.”

“I don’t like this. You should call the police.”

“I think I should go home. But thank you for your concern.”

He stepped back when she slid between her door and the car.

“If you won’t call the police, at least let me follow you home. Make sure you get there without anyone following you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. And your boyfriend will probably be upset, but if you were my girlfriend, I’d want someone looking out after you if I couldn’t be there.”

The mention of Glen reminded her that she was due to call him in less than thirty minutes. It also gave her some faith in knowing that Kent understood she wasn’t available.

“Fine.”

She waited until Kent brought his car behind hers before leaving the parking lot. Mary only lived twenty minutes away, and at nine at night, there wasn’t much traffic to deal with.

All the way home she thought about the words on her car and what it would cost to have them removed. The insurance company hadn’t yet settled the last bill for damage. She wouldn’t be surprised if they canceled her plan. At the very least, her rates were bound to go up.

Mary signaled for her garage door to open as she pulled in her driveway.

Kent pulled in behind her and turned off his car.

She didn’t want to be rude but had no desire to be social either.

“Nice neighborhood,” he said when he shut the door to his dark sedan.

“It’s quiet most of the time.” Not at her place lately, but overall . . .

Kent stepped into her garage as she moved closer to the door leading into the house.

“I’m okay from here.”

“You sure you don’t want me to make sure everything is good inside?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, then.” He stepped closer, opened his arms with an invitation for a hug.

She thought about refusing, then figured hugging him and sending him on his way would be the quickest way to get rid of him. On Monday, she’d have a conversation with the man about boundaries.

She tried for the catch and release hug, only Kent held on. “I worry about you.”

“I’m fine.” She patted him on the back and tried to back away.

“I want to check out inside.”

She pushed a little, to see if he was going to let her go without making things awkward. Apparently a boundary conversation wasn’t going to wait. “I’m fine. Thanks again.” Mary pushed this time.

Kent was bigger.

She felt one hand lose its grip but he held tight and slapped it against the button that closed the garage door.