Page 6 of Spotted at Lighthouse Bay
“What’s going on, Shane? There’s a man here claiming to be my bodyguard.”
He sighed. “I was hoping I would get to talk to you before he arrived. Things happened so quickly.”
“Are you okay? I heard something about a brick?”
“Yeah, that wasn’t great. It came through the living room window.”
She had no idea what his new house looked like. How strange that was. “Oh.”
“No one was hurt. It’s a high-profile case. I can’t talk about it, but you might’ve seen it in the news.”
“I haven’t.”
“A company is suing the government for the right to donate to politicians.”
“Isn’t there a law limiting political spending?” At least in Canada, where Shane was a judge.
Being back in the US, she was surprised by the endless political ads. One had such a frightening voiceover that it had made Patty’s golden retriever Derby jump and leave the room.
Shane cleared his throat. “It’s complicated and, as you can imagine, people are fired up on both sides. There’s an argument that it violates the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.”
Addy raised an eyebrow. “This is a company arguing that? I doubt the average Canadian citizen wants companies to have more influence over politicians.”
“Adelaide, I can’t talk about this with you.”
Oh. Adelaide now.
She sucked in a breath. “Okay, sorry.”
“We’re not sure who made the threat, but the company generously offered to pay for personal security for you.”
“Why are they threateningme?”she asked.
He was quiet for a beat. “That’s the thing. We’re not entirely sure they meant you.”
“I thought the note said ‘your wife might not survive,’ or something.”
“Right, well.” Shane cleared his throat. “I’m seeing someone. She lives with me. Whoever was watching me, I think they were talking about her, but we can’t be sure.”
“Oh.” Her voice, the traitor, went up an octave. “Of course. Then I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Better safe than sorry. That way I can feel safe to make the right decision.”
Oh, right.This was about him. Absolvinghimof guilt. Making surehecould work unencumbered. “How long is this going to take?”
“No more than a few weeks, hopefully.”
“A few weeks!” She caught herself and lowered her voice. “I’m not going to have this guy following me around for weeks, Shane.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Her mother’s voice carried through the door, followed by Sheila’s. It might be shouting or laughter; she wasn’t sure.
“I have to go,” Shane said, “but I can understand why you are having a lot of emotions about this.”
He was talking to her like she was a mental patient. He’d picked up some key phrases in couple’s therapy. Empty words without feeling, in his case. In her case, an emptied box of tissues at every session.
“It’s fine,” Addy said, “I have to go too.”
