Page 43 of Nora
Several minutes passed in silence. Then Lucian asked the question that had been weighing on him since he’d first learned about the murders. “How soon before the next one?”
He glanced over and in the filtered light of the occasional highway lamps, he saw her lips thin.
“I don’t know. In the past three sessions, there’s been one murder per week. But they don’t happen evenly spaced. The first murder might occur on the last day of the first week but the second on the first day of the second week.”
“Making them just a day apart?”
She nodded. “But in Turkey, the first one occurred on the second day of the first week and the second one didn’t happen until the last day of the second week. Twelve days apart.”
That gave them nothing to go on except one thing. “At least you don’t have to be concerned about a murder tonight or tomorrow. If that pattern holds, it won’t be until Monday that we need to start worrying.” It also meant they had only two days—not even—to try to stop the next killing.
“What about the medal?” Lucian asked, looking for something to talk about that might be a real lead.
“It was the victim’s,” Nora answered.
Lucian frowned. “A memento the killer took, then dropped?”
Nora lifted her shoulder. “It’s hard to know for certain, but it’s a likely scenario. I’ll look at my files to see if something similar was missing from any of the other victims. I also need to call Cyn and ask her to look into those social media accounts and forums.”
He took that as his cue to stop talking, and he refocused on the road as she made a call—not on Bluetooth this time—to Cyn. The night was clear and cold, and the Massachusetts Turnpike now stretched out before them. He’d always liked this part of the United States. He liked the trees and green fields and the gently rolling hills. Even though it was dark and shadowed, it was easy to simply drive and let his eyes take in the scenery.
Once Nora finished her call with Cyn, they chatted on and off about everything and nothing. She talked about her plans to visit her family in Jordan in February. He told her about his plans to avoid his family for Christmas. They talked about food and wine and holiday traditions. They also lapsed into occasional comfortable silences.
Too soon, he was pulling in front of the restaurant where she was scheduled to meet Emil. Her date. He looked through the big picture window and into a cozy room. He could see a bar along one wall, and tables filled with patrons dotted the small space. Based on the name, he thought it must be French.
“What time should I return?” he asked, feeling reluctant to drop her off and leave.
“Ten,” she answered without hesitation. “Three hours should be plenty for dinner.” He was glad to have a definitive time for the end of her date. She’d told him she wasn’t contemplating spending the night with Emil, but even so…
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
She tossed him a wan smile. “No,” she replied, ever honest. “But it’s just dinner. It will make my father happy, and he doesn’t ask much of me. Not that he’d be upset if I’d said no when he first proposed the dinner. But saying yes, then changing my mind last minute, wouldn’t be very sporting of me.”
He thought her father would rather her do whatever she wanted, but it wasn’t his place to say, so he nodded. “I’ll be back by ten, then.”
Her green eyes held his for a moment, then she reached for her purse and jacket. After putting her jacket on, she opened the door and slid from her seat into the frigid December night. “Thank you, Lucian, and I hope your dinner goes well.”
He nodded again and seconds later, she walked away.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Nora walkedinto the quaint restaurant, one she’d always thought overrated though good enough. She was handing her jacket to the host when a man, about her age, left the bar and walked toward her. The minute she saw the look on his face she knew the evening wasn’t going to turn out the way she’d planned. She hadn’t had high hopes for it to begin with, and it was, she was certain, about to take a nosedive.
“Nora?” he asked as he approached. She nodded and took in the man who was about to give her an excuse as to why he couldn’t stay for dinner. She’d seen the look on her father’s and brothers’ faces often enough to recognize when business called.
“Emil, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand. He seemed somewhat startled by the formal gesture, but he took her hand in his.
“I’m so sorry to do this, but I’m going to have to cancel dinner tonight. I know, I should have called or texted you, but somethingjustcame up. My plane is already waiting for me, and I need to leave for Los Angeles tonight. I figured the least I could do was to tell you in person.”
He gave her a chagrined smile. The least he should have done was cancel his business plans. In fact, the more she thought about it, the sketchier it sounded. He might have business in LA, but if he left within the hour, he wouldn’t be reaching the West Coast before ten o’clock. An odd time to be conducting business.
She’d not been sure of this date to begin with, and now she was certain she shouldn’t have accepted. It wasn’t worth making a fuss over. In fact, having the night to herself sounded quite nice.
“I’ve given the waiter my card and told him to spoil you tonight. I know your father wouldn’t have it any other way,” he continued, leaving her somewhat astounded. Many would consider that the polite thing to do, but to Nora, it was offensive. She wondered if he realized that he’d just treated her like little more than her daddy’s pet. Although to be fair, Emil was also probably trying to make sure she didn’t have cause to complain to her father. Saleh Amiri, and his three sons, would bury him if they thought he’d disrespected her. Which he had.
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, eager to have him gone. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He eyed her. He seemed to catch on to her rapid capitulation, and his brow dipped. “You have a plane to catch, don’t you?” she hinted.
His gaze darted around the restaurant as if he expected a boogeyman to jump out or something. Then he nodded. “Again, I’m sorry about this. Maybe next time I’m in Boston, we can try again?”
