Page 169 of Valor

“No worries. But hold on for a minute. I’ll give you my cell number in case you need anything.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m guessing you don’t know anyone in town, right?”

“Why would you think that?” She let out a pent-up breath.DetectiveOliver was right. Maybe she could take his number; it was not like he was asking for hers.

“You can just pretend to take it and spare my feelings,” Oliver chuckled.

That made her smile. What would be the harm if she took it? Not like he was fishing for her number.

“Alright.” Meghan pulled her phone out of the windbreaker pocket. “Ready.” Her fingers dashed over the screen.

He recited the digits.

“Thanks,” she said and hit save.

With Oliver’s number in her contacts, she was ready to get her luggage and check out her temporary digs. Her new friend hoisted her suitcase out of his trunk and set it on the wet sidewalk, then handed her the knapsack.

“Thanks again,” she said. The rain picked up, and they were rapidly getting soaked once more.

“You are welcome.” He walked to the driver’s side, but before he got into his car, he looked over the roof, water dripping from his hair. “Call me. I’m a teacher and have two months of summer break ahead of me, so if you need anything?—”

He waved his hand and got in, started the car, and pulled away from the curb.

Meghan’s hair was completely wet. She pushed the luggage to the entrance door. Tapping the code into the key lock box, she bit her lip.

The two keys inside the lockbox should unlock the front entrance and the small apartment she’d booked. Meghan shoved the red one into the lock. She hauled her luggage inside the foyer and checked the pink tag attached to the keys—number one. Meghan looked at the four doors evenly spaced along the wall opposite the entrance. Her unit was the first on the left. Holding her breath, she unlocked its door. This could be good, or it could be really, really bad.

She stepped across the threshold. The door shut behind her with a loud thud. A happy grin spread across her face—finally,a break.

The apartment looked new. IKEA furniture tastefully filled the space. A small kitchenette in the corner offered everything she needed, just as the online pictures showed.

Meghan kicked off her wet shoes and dragged her luggage to the dresser next to a queen-size bed. She let it stand there and walked across the room to the corner sofa. Her knapsack landed with a soft thud on the small desk set against the side of the sectional; she sank into the soft cushions.

“Thank you,” she whispered and propped her feet up on the coffee table. The window to her right overlooked a cobblestone town square bordered by a church, the high school, a classical-style building with a yellow façade much like the train station, and a bank.

Should she unpack, take a nap, or see if there was coffee in the cupboards? Meghan took off her wet windbreaker. Three steps, and she stood in front of the fridge. It was half the size of the one in her parents’ kitchen. Four magnets held up a small poster listing all the essentials, like the Wi-Fi password and the number for first responders. Perfect. She logged into the network and then tugged at the fridge handle. A carton of what looked like milk, a half-dozen eggs, and? She picked up the small foiled-wrapped block. Meghan aimed her camera at the text on the package, and voila, the app automatically translated—the wordbutterdisplayed on her screen.

I love you, Google.

Meghan opened the bottom of the cupboard next to the fridge and pulled out a frying pan. The knob on the hot plate turned with ease, and a few minutes later, three eggs sizzled in a dab of butter. The inspection of the uppers yielded a packet of instant coffee. Not her favorite, but it would have to do.

She sunk back into the sofa, feet up, plate on her lap. Her hair was almost dry. This may be a good time to call home. Meghan bowed her head and breathed a quick prayer of thanks before she took the first bite. Then she reached for her phone and tapped the WhatsApp icon.

“Hey,” Mom picked up before the first ring finished. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Just got in.” Meghan waved her fork in the air. “Let me show you the place.” She set the plate down and walked around the apartment.

“Looks great. How was the flight and the train?”

“Good.” She bit her lip before blurting out her concern about the man in the fedora. That would set Mom on edge, and she would insist that Meghan either call the police or get on the Prague Express and fly back home.

“Has anything interesting happened?” Mom’s voice was probing.

Meghan blew out her cheeks. Her mother had superpowers.

“I met this guy.”

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