Page 23 of Into the Shadows

“I’ll need you to take me back to my truck.”

“I can do that.”

We finish breakfast in a slightly awkward silence. Lottie helps me clean the kitchen before we gather our stuff to head out. The drive back to my truck is easy, and Lottie pulls over way before I’m ready to let her go.

“Are you sure you're going to be okay here?” she asks.

“Yeah. Now that my phone’s charged, I can call a tow truck. I'll be fine.”

I start to get out of her car when Lottie stops me. “Would you…” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “Would you want to go out to dinner sometime?”

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. “Um, sure.” I don’t even think about my answer before it’s out of my mouth. My brain says I should take it back, but the pleased expression on Lottie’s face makes me happier than it should. I’m not about to disappoint her now.

Going out with Lottie is a horrible idea. Allowing her deeper into my life is a recipe for disaster, but despite my reservations, I can’t deny that I want to get to know Lottie. It’s a selfish decision. One I’ll likely regret someday soon.

“Here.” Lottie digs through her purse and pulls out a business card. “That’s my cell number.”

I take it with a frown. “You give people your actual cell phone number?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I do. I’m not going to buy twophones. If I have any issues, I just block people. Text me so I’ll have your number.”

I clench my teeth to keep from saying anything that will piss her off. “Okay.” I get out of her car before I give in to the urge to lean over and kiss her.

My truck is freezing when I get inside, but I need the separation to keep from doing something stupid like dragging Lottie back to my house and finding out exactly how well we fit together.

As Lottie pulls away, I take a deep breath for the first time in what feels like days.

Chapter 14

Lottie

I'm greeted by a smirking Gia when I walk into the kitchen. The door to the garage slams behind me, and I go straight to the coffee pot.

“Soooo, how was your night?” Gia asks.

“Fine.” I make eye contact with her over my coffee mug. The dark liquid warms me up and gives me the boost I need.

“Justfine?” Gia raises an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes at her probing. “Nothing happened. The weather was bad, so I spent the night. We played cards and went to bed. That was it. I’m going to change now.” I don't wait for her to respond.

I go straight upstairs to my bathroom to shower. I’m not sure why I didn’t want to gush about my night with Teddy. Something changed between us. He was different this morning. Maybe I’m afraid Gia will make me see things logically, and it’ll crush the tiny spark of hope I can’t seem to put out on my own.

Castle Hill is about half an hour from Sonoma, and if I want to make a good impression, I need to leave soon. I throw on a cream sweater and jeans before going down to my studioand packing all my recording equipment. Sheriff Lansing was a bit reluctant to grant an interview, but he’s also aware of how helpful it can be to get the public's attention on a cold case. With time, people who knew something or were even involved in the case are more likely to come forward with information. It doesn't always happen, but Sheriff Lansing can't pass up the opportunity to try.

I write a couple of notes in my notebook to help me remember my questions and then grab my stuff to leave, throwing a quick goodbye at Gia before getting in my car.

All the thoughts I’d been pushing away while I got ready this morning bombard me as I drive. Embarrassment swoops in hard and fast at the memory of asking him to dinner. I can’t believe I just blurted that out. I’m not even sure why I did it.

Obviously, I want to spend time with him, but he’s made it clear he doesn’t feel the same. So why I thought asking him to dinner was the right choice eludes me.

His acceptance was likely a knee-jerk reaction rather than the truth. I figured giving him my phone number would put the ball in his court. If he truly wants to go to dinner, he can reach out.

I park in front of the small police station in Castle Hill five minutes before I’m meant to arrive. I grab my stuff and head inside. A woman in her sixties is playing solitaire at her desk—with actual cards. Her bobbed hair is dyed a bright red, and she has a bandana tied around her head. Add in her funky makeup and hipster outfit, and I think I want to be her when I grow up.

“Hi, I'm Charlotte Jackson. I'm here to see Sheriff Lansing.”

The woman startles. “Oh, Jesus, you scared me.” Her thick accent is surprising. My guess is somewhere northeast. Boston, maybe, but I'm not great at identifying northernaccents. “How can I help you? You said you were here to see Sheriff Lansing?”

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