Page 11 of Enigma
“I saw a car in his driveway around eight or nine, but I was inside all morning. Wish I could be more helpful.” The woman glanced at her watch. “I should get back inside. This heat isn’t good for my plants or me.”
Eight or nine? That was before Olive arrived.
“Do you remember what kind of car?”
The woman frowned and shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. It was a gray sedan. But I couldn’t tell you what kind.”
Olive thanked her and walked back toward the street.
The woman’s testimony proved someone else had been at the house. Maybe some local security cameras had picked up something. Surprisingly, she hadn’t seen any at Lloyd’s place.
Olive paused on the sidewalk as the sensation of being observed grew stronger.
She turned casually, as if checking for traffic.
Her gaze found the same car she’d spotted half a block away—a dark blue sedan parked beneath the shade of a large oak tree.
The car’s engine was running—she could see the faint shimmer of exhaust in the heat—but the windows were too tinted to make out the driver.
Olive needed to figure out who was behind that wheel.
Olive started toward the sedan, her pace deliberate but not aggressive.
She wanted to get close enough to see the license plate or catch a glimpse of whoever was inside.
The car was positioned with a clear view of both Lloyd’s house and the neighbor she’d been talking to.
She’d made it halfway when the sedan’s engine revved.
The driver quickly pulled away from the curb.
Olive broke into a jog, trying to get close enough to read the plate, but the car turned the corner and disappeared before she could make out more than the first two letters.
The whole interaction had taken less than thirty seconds, but it confirmed what Lloyd’s neighbor had told her. Someone was watching Lloyd’s house, and they were professional enough to have an escape route planned.
Olive stood alone on the quiet suburban street, acutely aware that she might not be as alone as she appeared. She walked quickly back toward her rental car and checked her mirrors constantly as she drove back to the hospital.
Whatever Lloyd had gotten himself involved in, it was still happening.
And now she was part of it, whether she wanted to be or not.
CHAPTER 7
Olive sat in the waiting room, her mind cycling through everything she knew as she waited for Jason to arrive.
Finally, the automatic doors of the emergency department slid open, and there he was—tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair slightly mussed from what had probably been a tense six-hour drive. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt.
His eyes swept the waiting room, and his gaze found her.
He steeled himself, his jaw tightening and his shoulders squared.
He was upset with her, and rightfully so.
But there was more going on than that.
Jason looked tired, worried, and hurt—a combination that made Olive’s chest ache with guilt.
She stood as he approached, fidgeting with the strap of her purse as dread filled her. “Jason.”
