Page 3 of Defending You
She shoved her phone into her jacket pocket, scooped up the drawstring bag, the necklace, and everything that had come with it, and hurried to the rear exit.
“Start looking,” the smooth-talking man said. “Find it. Now.”
Heart racing, Cici pushed out the door into an alley shaded from the afternoon sun by tall buildings all around. She bolted behind the neighboring store and then down another alley.
“Stop!” a man shouted after her.
She pumped her legs faster, finally reaching the main road and all the shoppers. Except there weren’t that many, not nearly enough to give her cover.
She’d parked her rental car on a side street a few blocks away. Rather than run—and draw attention to herself—Cici slowed to a fast walk. She pulled her hair out of the bun, then shrugged out of her black suit jacket, which she draped over the velvet bag of jewels.
She hoped the change would throw off the man following her.
A group of women walked ahead, and Cici jogged until she was right behind, trying to look like she was one of them.
Even though it made no sense, she would swear she could hear the footsteps of that guard catching up.
She couldn’t help it.
She turned.
And locked eyes with him. He was maybe thirty feet back and, apparently, not fooled at all by the minor adjustments to her outfit.
She broke into a run, shoving past the women, moving as fast as her too-tall heels would let her. She dodged shoppers and bicycles and anything else in her way.
At the next corner, she crossed against traffic, nearly getting hit by a car. The blaring horn barely registered as she reached the far sidewalk, passed a couple of storefronts, then dashed down a side street, shoving her hand into her jacket pocket to retrieve her keys. She grabbed them and clicked to unlock her car door.
She yanked it open, threw the bag into the passenger seat, and started the engine.
“Cici!” The phone had connected to Bluetooth, and Forbes’s voice was a frantic through the speakers. “What’s going on? Are you still there?”
She’d forgotten about him.
“Hold on, Forbes!” She checked her rearview.
The man was turning the corner behind her.
She angled the rental out from between two cars and floored the accelerator, lurching forward. She turned onto the next street.
“Cici,” Forbes said, his volume one notch below a shout. “Talk to me.”
“Mr. Delvecchio. I think he was murdered!” Her pitch was too high, the words coming fast. “Two men just showed up, and one was behind him, and then he fell.” She sounded panicked. Shewaspanicked. “I have to call the police.”
“Are you safe now?”
She checked her rearview again. She’d left the guard behind. “I think so. I’m in my car.”
Which the guard had seen. It was a rental, though. Surely, he wouldn’t be able to track it to her.
“Call the police,” Forbes said. “Then call me back right after you get off the phone with them.”
“I will.” Cici ended the call, her mind racing as she dialed 911. She didn’t know Philly well and had no idea where she was headed, just taking random turns, trying to put as much distance between herself and that guy as she could.
The operator’s voice was calm, asking for details, but all Cici could focus on was the road ahead, the memory of Mr. D’s body falling, and the fear that she might be next. She gave her name and the store’s location. “I think he strangled him.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Delvecchio. The owner of the store.”
