Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Birdie

Adriana gives me an assertive smile and takes her place, phone ready in her hand. I sit back and hum—a technique I’ve learned to stimulate the vagus nerve—feigning a calm I don’t feel. Thirteen minutes later, the café doors chime with the arrival of a man in a gray suit. He has dark hair and is built like a football player. No, a freaking wrestler. It must be Detective Torrance. Blake chose the biggest man in the precinct to scare me, and it’s working.

I steal a glance at Adriana, and she gives me a subtle nod as she positions the phone in my direction. Torrance’s strides approach, long and firm. His face is unreadable.

“Mrs. Abel?” he asks as if he doesn’t already know.

My hands wrap around my coffee to conceal the tremors in them. “Yes.”

“Detective Torrance.” He flashes his badge at me and takes a seat. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Like I have a choice.”

He stares at me for a moment, his eyes the color of steel. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression over the phone. I’m only—”

“Let’s cut to the chase. I know why you’re here and who sent you.”

“Sent me?”

“Please, Detective. I know you’re friends with my husband.”

He gives me another long stare, as if he’s studying me, weighing my words. Then he leans forward. “No, ma’am. I’m not. I’m here to talk to you about the report you filed.”

Losing my patience, I rub my mouth. Fine. I’ll bite. “Which report? The domestic disturbance or my stalker’s promise of multiple murders in my name?”

“Domestic disturbance?” He muses for a second. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Abel. I wasn’t aware you filed one. I was recently transferred to Oak Bluffs.”

I squint at him. “So you really don’t know my husband?”

“All I know is that Blake Abel is an ex-cop, which drew my attention to your case, the stalker case.”

“Why?”

“Because no one followed up on it. There was no investigation whatsoever. Usually, cases that involve a cop’s family member are prioritized.”

“Well, your colleagues dismissed both my claims as publicity stunts, but I think we all know they did it as a favor to my husband.”

“And when I called, you must have thought I was coming on his behalf, to do him another favor.”

“Can you blame me?”

Pity jumps to his expression, maybe a dash of anger, too. “Again, I’m very sorry, ma’am. When I called, I wanted to help. I’d like to follow up on the stalker incident.”

I glance at Adriana, and she gives me an encouraging smile. Detective Torrance seems to be the only one at the police department that isn’t influenced by Blake. He could be of real help with the stalker. Maybe even with my husband.

You never learn from your mistakes. You’re gonna trust another cop? Are you insane? How do you know he’s telling the truth? How do you know this isn’t just another game to get you to trust him? To open up and tell him about your plans with Adriana only so he would report back to Blake?

“You mentioned there was a note. I want to run forensics on it so—”

“Detective Torrance, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I’m taking the whole thing to a private sector.”

He leans back, pursing his lips. “You don’t trust me.”

Trust is a word long erased from my repertoire. “Even if you mean well, and you really want to help, they won’t let you. I don’t want to waste your time or mine.”

His chest puffs up with a long inhale. He reaches inside the pocket of his jacket, which allows me a better view of the definition of his bulging muscles underneath his shirt. My mind races with all the lines Jacob Torrance’s physique could write for a character of mine, just like it did with Tristan Morra. Except this time, I’m able to swallow the verbal vomit early on.

“Here’s my card,” he says as he gives it to me. I lift my eyes to his, and a hint of a smile crosses his lips. Did he notice I was staring? “Give me a call if you change your mind…or if you need anything.” He stands to leave. “We’re not all the same, Mrs. Abel. I hope you know that.”

I read his card as he steps away. “Detective…”

He turns, his eyes hopeful when they meet mine.

“Grab a book of mine from the mini bookstore and let me sign it for you. Don’t worry. I’ll pay for it myself.”

Confusion shadows his face for a moment or two, but then he does as I say. When he leans over to give me the book, he whispers, “What is this about?”

“I believe Blake is watching me. When he asks you what you were doing with his wife, tell him yours is a fan. You wanted to surprise her. What makes a better gift than a signed book from her favorite author.”

Disappointment erases his confusion. “You’re quick with making up stories, Mrs. Abel.”

“It’s my job.”

“But I don’t need a story. I’m not scared of your husband.”

“That makes one of us, Detective.” I open the book. “What’s your wife’s name?”

“Sign it to Nancy, please. While I’m buying your book, I had to call to make sure she really is a fan. It turns out she is.”

He bought the book when I said I would. A show of dominance. I personalize the signature with one of my quotes. My readers love it when I do. “A man who doesn’t know what kind of smut his wife reads is a miserable man, Detective Torrance.” I hand him the book. “You should read it. You might learn a thing or two.”

A chuckle rips out of his throat. “I’m not married, Mrs. Abel. Never have been. Nancy is my little sister.”

Heat bursts in my cheeks. What’s wrong with me today? The urge to get back at any man who tries to show me he has the upper hand has put me in an awkward position twice in one day. “Oh…I… How old is she?”

“Twenty-one.”

At least, she’s not a minor whose dirty little secret I revealed to her older brother. I clear my throat. “And you?”

“Forty-two.”

The answer hangs between us for a while. I’m sure he can read the question in my gaze. Why a man like him, good-looking, with a decent job and an excellent physique, a man who has reached the emotional maturity that allows him to settle down and start a family, has never been married. He chooses not to answer it, though. “Don’t read too much into it. There’s no story there.”

“Everything is a story, Detective.”

Another chuckle. “I just never happened to meet the one.”

I don’t know why he needed to tell me that. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with waiting.” I collect my belongings. It’s getting dark, and I should go home before dark. “I got married in my twenties. Suffice to say, it wasn’t the best decision I’ve made.”

He sighs and waves the book at me. “Thanks for this. If you’re heading out, I can give you a ride.”

You should know better, Detective. “I’ll walk. I could use some fresh air. And, Detective, I’d appreciate it if you could keep both complaints I’ve filed confidential. I don’t want the press creating a scandal.”

“Of course. You don’t have to worry about my tipping the press. I’ll be busy reading your book. I might learn a thing or two.”

Something in the way he says it puts me on edge. Is this merely a throwback or something else more sinister?

He winks. He fucking winks at me. What the hell?

Karma punishes his arrogance instantly. He pumps into a man in a hoodie on the way out so hard he almost trips over his feet. Almost. Shame.

Torrance apologizes awkwardly to the man and leaves. I stop by Adraian’s table. “Sorry about dragging you into this. False alarm.”

“No problem. But…what’s the deal with that stalker? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Not here, Adriana. We’ll talk later. You have a ferry to catch, and I have to go home, but if it’s not too much trouble, could you send this package with your outgoing mail at the firm?” I hand her my gift to Katie Saldana. “Gia mailed my signed book orders but forgot this one on my desk. I hate it when I disappoint a fan, and you’ll save me the trip to the post office.”