Page 190
Story: Valor
“How about you stay only for a day or two, if that works better? Until we find out who the person is. I do have a friend at the police department. I will ask him to run the plates. Once we know who owns the car, we can decide what to do next.”
Meghan let out a long breath. Moving into Oliver’s place? Meeting his mother? How would she even broach that with Mom?
“Does your mom speak English?”
“No, but she uses Google Translate when traveling. It worked well for her in Italy. So, communication shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I don’t know. This seems such an imposition.”
“It’s not. Since I offered. Just think about it.”
He pulled to the curb and parked in front of the entrance to her building.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Let me help you with the groceries,” he offered.
“I can handle it.”
But Oliver was already out, the trunk of his car open. “Just hold the door for me please,” he said as he walked toward the entrance, her bags swinging in his arms.
“Thank you.” She struggled to keep the apprehension out of her voice. Automatically, Meghan pulled at the door handle, forgetting that it should be locked. She held it open and frowned as the realization dawned on her.
Oliver walked past her, apparently thinking nothing of the unlocked door. She nervously rustled in her knapsack for the keys. But when she tried to insert the fob into her apartment’s lock, Meghan stopped dead. The door was ajar.
“Oliver?”
He set the bags on the hallway floor and surveyed the door. “You locked up before you left, correct?”
She nodded, trying to control the tremors spreading through her entire body.
“Excuse me.” He used his sleeve to push the door open.
Meghan sucked in a breath as she peered inside the apartment. Her things were scattered over the entire place, the open suitcase cut.
“My passport!” She lunged toward the door, but Oliver held her arm.
“Wait. Let me make a call first.”
“But I need to make sure they didn’t take it.”
Oliver tapped the screen. “Meghan, if it’s gone, it’s gone. Let me?—”
She glared at him. How could he be so casual about it? She wouldn’t be able to fly home without one.
“Yarda…”
A torrent of words followed. Meghan had no idea what was said. Oliver’s gaze met hers. Tears welled up in her eyes. He reached for her hand while he continued the conversation. All she could glean was her name and Canada. Oliver squeezed her fingers gently, then ended the call.
“He said to wait here; the police are on their way.”
Meghan slumped against the wall. She let go of his hand and slowly slid down to the floor. Her breathing turned shallow and fast, and clammy sweat broke out on her temples.
“Are you okay?” He stooped, not breaking eye contact.
Meghan nodded, not trusting her voice. She wouldn’t cry in front of him.
“Can I get you something?” He reached into one of the bags, pulled out a water bottle, and offered it to her.
Meghan let out a long breath. Moving into Oliver’s place? Meeting his mother? How would she even broach that with Mom?
“Does your mom speak English?”
“No, but she uses Google Translate when traveling. It worked well for her in Italy. So, communication shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I don’t know. This seems such an imposition.”
“It’s not. Since I offered. Just think about it.”
He pulled to the curb and parked in front of the entrance to her building.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Let me help you with the groceries,” he offered.
“I can handle it.”
But Oliver was already out, the trunk of his car open. “Just hold the door for me please,” he said as he walked toward the entrance, her bags swinging in his arms.
“Thank you.” She struggled to keep the apprehension out of her voice. Automatically, Meghan pulled at the door handle, forgetting that it should be locked. She held it open and frowned as the realization dawned on her.
Oliver walked past her, apparently thinking nothing of the unlocked door. She nervously rustled in her knapsack for the keys. But when she tried to insert the fob into her apartment’s lock, Meghan stopped dead. The door was ajar.
“Oliver?”
He set the bags on the hallway floor and surveyed the door. “You locked up before you left, correct?”
She nodded, trying to control the tremors spreading through her entire body.
“Excuse me.” He used his sleeve to push the door open.
Meghan sucked in a breath as she peered inside the apartment. Her things were scattered over the entire place, the open suitcase cut.
“My passport!” She lunged toward the door, but Oliver held her arm.
“Wait. Let me make a call first.”
“But I need to make sure they didn’t take it.”
Oliver tapped the screen. “Meghan, if it’s gone, it’s gone. Let me?—”
She glared at him. How could he be so casual about it? She wouldn’t be able to fly home without one.
“Yarda…”
A torrent of words followed. Meghan had no idea what was said. Oliver’s gaze met hers. Tears welled up in her eyes. He reached for her hand while he continued the conversation. All she could glean was her name and Canada. Oliver squeezed her fingers gently, then ended the call.
“He said to wait here; the police are on their way.”
Meghan slumped against the wall. She let go of his hand and slowly slid down to the floor. Her breathing turned shallow and fast, and clammy sweat broke out on her temples.
“Are you okay?” He stooped, not breaking eye contact.
Meghan nodded, not trusting her voice. She wouldn’t cry in front of him.
“Can I get you something?” He reached into one of the bags, pulled out a water bottle, and offered it to her.
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