Page 6 of Stone
“You want company until you get to wherever you’re going in Sac?” Simon asked, bringing her attention back to the call.
“You want to talk on the phone?” she clarified. She didn’t so much have confidence issues—okay, she had a few of those—but she did have a long history of menlosinginterest. That Simon wanted to spend the next hour talking with her, and on the phone no less, was something new.
He chuckled, no doubt at the shock in her voice.
“With you, yeah,” he said as something crashed to the floor in the background. He let out a quiet curse followed by some shuffling.
“Everything okay?” she asked, forgetting to be self-conscious about this man being interested inher.
“Yeah, dropped a board,” he replied, answering her question.
“Working on your house?” she asked. During their coffee dates, they’d talked about the farm he’d bought a couple of years earlier on the northwest side of town and his restoration of the 130-year-old Victorian farmhouse.
“Yeah, not happy with how the porch is coming along, though,” he said. For the next hour, they chatted about everything from the history of his property to the challenges she’d faced finding a rental when she’d moved to town several years earlier. They shared nothing earth-shattering, but it was a welcome distraction from both the drive and the events of the afternoon.
When she turned south onto the highway that would take her home, she reluctantly ended the call. She didn’t need to, but she’d implied she had an errand. She didn’t like misleading him,but she needed more time to process the events at the museum before she shared them.
The drive grew far less interesting without Simon to talk with, but at least she didn’t see any cars following her. And when she stopped to fill her tank, only two other vehicles took the same exit—a minivan overflowing with a family and a semi-truck carrying tomatoes.
By the time she merged onto the eastbound road to Mystery Lake, the only thing keeping her from accepting that she hadn’t been followed was her natural abundance of caution. And her irrational fear of tempting the fates by getting too comfortable.
The miles ticked by, and the golden fields gave way to forests of pine the higher she climbed. Cars merged and exited both ahead and behind her, but no single car seemed to trail her as she headed east or when she turned for the final stretch south.
Reaching Mystery Lake closer to nine than eight, she made her way through town, the familiar sights wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Her favorite ice cream parlor, the candy store that made the chocolates she sent to her best friends every few months, the newly painted high school covered in murals designed by the students, the raised sidewalks, the quintessential “Western” architecture, and of course, the lake glistening under the moonlight on her left as she headed south to her condo.
Backing into her garage, she shut her car off as the door rolled closed. When the metal connected with the floor, closing her in, she let her head fall back against the seat. She was safe. For now. And in the comfort of her home, she could begin figuring out what to do next. If Suit and Blue were planning a murder, someone who could do something about it needed to know.
Which meant her first order of business was to figure out exactly who they were.
4
Stone pulled onto the drive that led down a long and narrow lot to Juliana’s condo. The first of the four condos in the small development abutted the street and belonged to a couple who worked for the Falcon’s Rest construction supply company. Juliana’s was the last in the row.
To his left, a fence ran the length of the drive, separating the private property from a city easement. A shopping area lay on the other side of the easement that housed a coffee shop, co-op grocer, and a few other odds and ends stores.
As he backed into one of the two visitor spots shared by Juliana and the condo beside hers, he took a deep breath. The scents in town were not that different from where he lived—pine, dried grass, sun-burned oak—but they mingled with hints of asphalt and, if his nose wasn’t deceiving him, baked goods. Whether the latter was coming from the grocer or the coffee shop, he didn’t know.
Sliding out of the driver’s seat, he shut the door and took a moment to appreciate the sting of sun on his face. The long dry summer left most residents on edge, and the threat of fires hung over them every day. But for now, the sky was clear, the sun wasout, and he was going to spend the day with a beautiful woman who, when she smiled at him, made his chest flood with feelings he couldn’t name but liked. A lot. Life didn’t get much better.
Glancing at the clock on his phone, he grimaced. He was fifteen minutes early. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind. If so, he’d pop over to the coffee shop and grab them drinks while she finished getting ready.
Striding up the short walkway, he took in her smattering of water-wise plants. A pale green creeper with tiny white flowers softened the ground, spreading over most of the area. Jasmine climbed two vestibule posts, and seven pots, ranging from one to twenty-five gallons, added color with their eclectic collection of annuals.
He inhaled deeply as he passed the jasmine—one of his favorite scents—then knocked on the door. After the life he’d survived as a child, followed by his years in the military, “nervous” wasn’t really an emotion he experienced. He did recognize pivotal moments, though. Important moments. Moments that balanced on a fulcrum and could tip either way. He wanted this budding relationship with Juliana to tip toward something important, something good. But experience had taught him to be cautious, and so it was with guarded optimism that he waited for Juliana to answer the door.
And waited.
Maybe she hadn’t heard? He was a big guy, and strong, too. He’d intentionally kept his first knock light so as not to sound as if he were pounding on her door. Maybe too light.
Raising his hand, he rapped a little harder, the sharp contact with the wood reverberating through his knuckles. A heartbeat later, he heard a gasp, then something crash to the floor, followed by an even louder cry.
Adrenaline spiked through his system in a painful rush, and he reached for the door handle. “Juliana!” he called. “Are youokay?” The knob turned, but held shut by a deadbolt, the door didn’t open. “Juliana!” he called again, panic swirling through his body as dozens of scenarios danced in his mind, each worse than the one before.
Calling her name one more time, he shifted his weight, calculating the best location to hit the door to break through. He didn’t bother anticipating the pain, Juliana was more important. But as he started moving, she called back.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said, her voice strained.
“Juliana?” He wasn’t convinced.
