Page 9 of Peak Suspicion
Carter moved past her to read the notice. “Looks like the exterminator came by,” he said.
She choked back a sob. He returned to her side and put an arm around her. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s go inside and I’ll get you some water.”
She let him take her keys and unlock the door while she tried to pull herself together. “It must be the aftershock from the accident,” she said. “I guess I was more shook up than I thought.”
“Anyone would be.” He returned her keys, then moved to the kitchen, found a glass and half filled it with water from the tap, and returned to her side. “Sit over here and sip this,” he said. “I’ll stay until you’re feeling better.”
She sat on the sofa and he took the chair across from her and watched her carefully. Everything about him radiated concern, not threat. “I’m sorry,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“Thanks for bringing me home,” she said. “And for listening.”
“Is there anything else I can do to help?” he asked. “You don’t have a car now. Do you need a ride anywhere?”
“I can walk to school from here. I’ll talk to my insurance company and see what I need to do to get my car towed. I guess it’s probably totaled.”
“Yeah, now that we had to cut it up. Sorry about that.”
“I didn’t get to see much,” she said. “Bethany—your sister, right?”
He nodded.
“Bethany covered me with a blanket. I guess in case of any sparks or flying metal. It didn’t seem to take very long. The next thing I knew, people were lifting me onto a stretcher.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital for X-rays?”
“I promise I’ll go in if I feel anything unusual,” she said. “And I’ll try your recommendation for the Epsom salt soak.”
She met his gaze and caught her breath at the recognizablezing!that coursed through her. Like plugging into a current. Not what she needed—or wanted. She set the water glass aside. “I’m feeling better now.”
She thought he would leave then, but he hesitated. “You thought the notice on the door was another note, didn’t you?” he asked.
She started to lie, but she was terrible at it. Why else would she have come up with that ridiculous story about jaywalking? “Yes,” she admitted. “It really shook me, seeing it there.”
“Would you mind showing me the notes?” he asked. He shrugged. “I know it’s a long shot, but maybe I’d recognize something about them.”
She doubted that, but in his shoes, she would probably be curious, too. She looked away. Part of her wanted to confide in someone, but was Carter really the right person?
“Hey, I don’t mean to pry,” he said. “You just seem awfully upset about a jaywalking accusation. If there’s something else I can help with, I will. And if not…you don’t know me well, but I’m not a blabbermouth.”
She didn’t know him well. Maybe he was a fabulous liar. She couldn’t trust him with this. “Don’t worry about the notes,” she said. “But would you hand me my backpack before you go?” She was too stiff and sore to want to retrieve it herself, but she needed to check her phone for messages. The thought that the letter writer might call or text made her stomach twist, but she pushed it aside.
“Sure.” Carter stood and retrieved the pack and walked toward her. But before he reached her, he stopped and tugged at the corner of a folded sheet of paper sticking out of a half-unzipped pocket on the pack. “Is this one of the notes?” he asked. “It looks like the same paper.”
Before she could protest, he pulled out the note and studied it.
“Carter, no!” she said, and pushed herself to a standing position, ignoring her protesting muscles.
She watched his face as he read the accusation the letter writer had fired at her: interest, shock, then confusion. He looked at her. “Who is David?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” She snatched the note from his hand. “You need to leave now.”
He dropped the pack and took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have read that without your permission. But now that I have, tell me about David.”
“Why do you even care?” She was still angry at him, but she was also hurting. She wanted to hurt him, too, though she knew that wouldn’t really make her feel better.
He looked at the floor, cheeks flushed. When he raised his gaze to her again, the hurt in his expression cut her. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “But I can’t imagine you’ve done anything in your life to warrant someone hurting you like this.”
