“He introduced himself as Matt...um, hmm. That’s weird. I’m not sure he ever told me his last name. If he did, I sure don’t remember it. He was gorgeous, though.” She glanced back at Dawson, who was making a show of checking his cell phone.
Luckily, the backseat faced the opposite direction so they couldn’t see his face. It gave the illusion he couldn’t hear.
Marcy backed out of the parking spot. The beep, beep, beep of the golf cart masked their conversation.
“If you ask me, this one’s the best. Hands down.” Marcy blushed as she nodded back toward Dawson. “But then I’ve always been partial to tall, muscled men. Matt looked like he stepped out of one of those Abercrombie and Fitch ads if there was one for middle-aged men. You know?”
“Yeah.” Summer didn’t have a clue. She’d gotten a first name, though. Matt. The name of the so-called attorney who’d handled the fake divorce had been Matt Charley Shank. The first two names were clues. What did Shank mean?
For some reason, Summer doubted it was his actual last name. In fact, she was certain that Dawson would have checked every Matt or Matthew Shank in Texas. She tabled that thought, figuring Marcy was feeling chatty.
“I never liked his hair, though,” Summer said.
“Too curly?”
“Exactly. And the color—”
“Black never bothered me. It was a little long for a guy who wore a suit, though,” Marcy stated.
Summer committed the details to memory. Matt, last name unknown, who looked like he’d walked off an Abercrombie and Fitch ad for middle-aged men, had curly black hair.
“His eyes were nice, though,” Marcy continued in a hushed tone as she whipped around a corner and toward the back side of the complex. They passed a row of mailboxes before Marcy made another turn. “I don’t normally like blue eyes on a man but his were so light. They looked good on him. And he had just enough gray at the temples to be sexy.”
She added the extra details, repeating his description to seal it into her brain. Matt, last name unknown, who looked like he’d walked off an Abercrombie and Fitch ad for middle-aged men, had curly black hair. He also had light blue eyes and wore a suit. And he had just enough gray at the temples to be sexy.
A picture was emerging.
“He turned out to be a creep.” Summer fished for any signs there’d been fighting between her sister and Matt. Marcy seemed like the nosy type who would know if a couple had problems.
“Really?” Marcy seemed shocked. She took a minute to think about it and then said, “You know, that explains all the flowers.”
“His way of apologizing,” Summer continued.
“My mom always said never trust a man when he sends flowers out of the blue. It means he’s doing something wrong.” Marcy looked at Summer in a show of solidarity.
Summer noticed there was no ring on Marcy’s left hand.
“Dating is hard,” Summer continued.
“It’s the worst.” Marcy smacked her palm on the steering wheel. “Right?”
“There are so many jerks out there,” Summer agreed.
“And they take all shapes and forms.” Marcy was really into the conversation now. Good, Summer had gotten good information out of the woman so far. And Summer was getting used to her nasal tone of voice. Fingernails on a chalkboard still had a better sound but Marcy was growing on her.
Summer repeated her new mantra. Matt, last name unknown, who looked like he’d walked off an Abercrombie and Fitch ad for middle-aged men, had curly black hair that was a little too long. He also had light blue eyes and wore a suit. And he had just enough gray at the temples to be sexy.
“You think you can trust a guy in a suit and then he turns out to be more of a jerk than you could ever have imagined.” Summer kept pouring it on. She was always so careful when she met a new person and was always guarded if someone tried to interact with her for the first time online. She’d been too busy working extra shifts and socking away money to have much free time. When she did have a day off, she usually spent it at the library researching how to start her own business or under the covers trying to catch up on her sleep.
Marcy rocked her head as she pulled into a parking spot. Dawson, who’d been quiet up until now, was off the cart first. He clasped hands with Summer the second she exited.
“Right this way.” Marcy took them to a storage building with five large doors. Keys clanked as she searched for the right one. “Hold on just a minute. Where’d you go?” She was talking to herself as she checked keys, one by one, and occasionally glanced over at Summer with an awkward smile.
At least Marcy was focusing on Summer now instead of Dawson. He moved behind Summer and looped his arms around her. The feel of his masculine chest against her back sent sensual shivers racing through her.
In the move, he also slipped his cell phone into her hands and swiped so that the screen came to life.
“Are you from Texas, Marcy?”
Summer could feel his chest vibrate when he spoke. More of those inappropriate shivers raced down her back.
“San Angelo originally.” She beamed at him before refocusing on the keys. She slid one in and said, “Finally.”
When her back was turned, Summer glanced at the screen of Dawson’s phone. He’d written down the description of Matt, which was basically the same as the mantra she’d repeated a couple of times since getting off the cart.
He ran his thumb inside the palm of her hand, and it sent a trail of warmth.
“And, we’re in,” Marcy said after wrestling with the door. “Be careful. We don’t usually let people back here, so it’s a mess. Maintenance is supposed to clean up but Jared has been calling in sick lately and it’s all we can do to keep residents happy.”
“What happened to Sean?” Summer took the opportunity to ask another question that had been on both her and Dawson’s minds.
“We had to let him go,” Marcy said with a frown. “He made a few of our female residents uncomfortable, so he wasn’t working out.” She paused. “I didn’t realize you liked him all that much.”
“Can’t say that I knew him very well.” She shrugged. “Now that you mention it, he was a little creepy.”
“That’s the same word a few other residents used to describe interactions with him,” she admitted. Those few minutes in the golf cart had won over Marcy’s trust.
Steeling her nerves, Summer followed Marcy into the space. She flipped on a light, which was one of those basic builder installs hanging from the ceiling. The walls inside weren’t finished. There were only boards and posts.
The storage shed was large and there was enough dust on the flooring to cover half the state. People’s belongings were stacked in piles, some were wrapped in what looked like oversize pieces of Saran wrap.
Marcy navigated around a few of the piles until she located Autumn’s belongings.
“Here’s your stuff,” she said to Summer.
The stack consisted of a pile of clothing on top of shoes. There was makeup, like Marcy had mentioned before. There wasn’t a whole lot else. A couple of purses, some blankets and toiletries.
“I’ll go get the truck,” Dawson said as an icy chill raced down Summer’s spine. All of her sister’s belongings could easily fit in the back.
Summer didn’t have much, but she’d worked for her small apartment and filled it with things she loved. Her neighbor was looking after Summer’s plants. She had a wall of bookshelves with her favorite paperbacks. There were a few shells from the beach along with art she’d bought on the street. She’d made a few pieces herself, nothing fancy, just pottery she’d painted and fired. She had the most comfortable bed and her blanket was the softest thing she’d ever felt.
Again, nothing extravagant but everything in her home meant something to her. She still had a white starfish blown from glass that she’d picked up in Seattle at the Pike Place Market. Clothes weren’t her big thing and neither were purses and shoes. She carried a handbag, of course, but back home she usually just stuck her wallet inside her backpack and moved on. It was easier to carry and keep track of that way.
Nothing really stood out in her sister’s personal effects but she wanted to take them home with her anyway. This was all she had left of Autumn.
She glanced up in time to see Marcy studying her.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, I like the natural look on you much better than what you did before.”
“I’ll take all the compliments I can get.” Summer realized if there was anything important, Matt would have picked it up when he came and got Autumn’s stuff. He must’ve been worried something might link her back to him.
“Don’t take it the wrong way. You were always beautiful, but you never really talked much.”
“I was going through a lot while deciding if we were going to give our marriage another shot.” Summer felt defensive of her sister, which was silly. Marcy didn’t mean anything by it and she didn’t come across as the most sensitive person.
“There are earrings in the makeup holder that I had my eye on to buy,” she admitted and then seemed to catch herself. “Before I realized you were coming back for your stuff, of course. Most people never do. Once they skip out on rent, we don’t see them again. Their stuff ends up in here and we eventually sell it. My boss takes forever to get rid of this stuff.”
All Summer could figure was that was Marcy’s way of offering an apology.
“Which earrings did you like?” Summer knelt down beside the makeup container and then opened it, kicking up a small storm of dust.
Summer coughed.
“Sorry about the dust. No one has run a broom through here in forever.” Marcy waved her hand in front of her wrinkled nose.
The makeup container had pockets like a tackle box. Summer unfolded it and in the bottom were several pairs of earrings.
“Those are beautiful.” Marcy pointed to an art deco throwback. The pair she was talking about were like chandeliers. They had more sparkle than a craft store’s glitter aisle.
Summer picked them up, figuring she could buy a little more good will. “They’re yours if you want them.”
“Are you serious right now?” Marcy was ecstatic. If a pair of cheap free earrings could do that for her, so be it.
“Definitely.” Summer picked them up and held them out.
“I’m not sure I should. I mean, I want to...but... I don’t know what the company policy is.”
“How about this? They belong to me. I don’t want them anymore since I wore them on a date with my ex-boyfriend. I don’t think my husband would appreciate me bringing them into our home and I don’t want the reminder of a horrible relationship. So, you’d be doing me a favor if you took them off my hands.” Summer could tell she was winning Marcy over with her logic.
“Well, if I was doing you a favor...”
“You would be.” Summer meant it, too. They were not her style one bit and she’d rather they bring someone else joy than end up at a garage sale. She wouldn’t even begin to know what to charge for them.
Marcy took the offering and splayed them out on her flat palm. “They’re so gorgeous.”
“They’ll look better on you than they would on me.” Summer caught her slipup, but Marcy was too busy admiring her new earrings to notice.
The door opened and Summer’s heart dropped. She stood up a little too fast and scared Marcy.
“Is that you, Dawson?” she asked as she heard boots shuffling across the dusty floor.
“It’s me. Pickup is outside. We can gather up your things and head home.” He must’ve noticed the panic in her voice because he was a study in calm when he got to them.
She flashed her eyes at him and he walked straight over to her and kissed her. It was another couple move and probably for show but being with him and especially when he made contact in any way made her feel like she’d found home.
“TRUCK IS BACKED UP as close as I could get it.” Dawson realized his mistake in leaving Summer alone the minute he looked into her eyes. He wouldn’t do that to her again. He’d jogged back to the front parking lot and gotten back as fast as he could.
A bad feeling caused the hair on the back of his neck to prick. He’d scoped the area without seeing any cause for alarm and yet that uneasy feeling wouldn’t let up.
He was keenly aware that he had Summer at a known hangout of her sister’s. The killer was powerful and had connections. He might have eyes everywhere and especially his old haunts.
Dawson was ready to get Summer out of there.
With three of them, loading the truck only took three trips. Marcy had warmed up to Summer, who she believed was Autumn. He noticed Marcy had a pair of earrings tucked into her shirt pocket. They seemed like prize possessions considering she patted her pocket after every load to make sure they didn’t fall out somewhere along the way.
When they’d tucked in the last load, he thanked her for her help.
“No problem.” She patted her pocket again and looked straight at Summer. “Thank you for these.”
Summer smiled one of those genuine, ice-melting smiles that was unique to her at the exact time the crack of a bullet split the air.