Chapter Thirty-One

The rev of an engine shot panic through Jessie. She reacted in a painful instant, pulling away from Michael.

“They’ve circled around. They’re coming back,” she said, breathless. She backed against the high, prickly hedge that flanked the sidewalk.

Michael blocked her with his body. “Don’t pull your gun.”

The vehicle sounded closer. Jessie held her breath as she leaned around the hedge to get a glimpse of it beyond the line of parked cars.

“Stay behind me.” Michael’s voice was firm and controlled.

The vehicle crept into view—a red Mercedes illuminated beneath the streetlight. Inside, an older, gray-bearded man stared ahead.

Jessie exhaled. “Obviously, that’s not the SUV that hit me.” A vengeful side of her wished it was.

“Let’s get to Sam’s place,” Michael said. “If that bastard comes back, let him worry whether he got the job done.” He turned to Jessie. “Are you okay to walk?”

She nodded, feeling flushed and a little self-conscious about what had just happened between them. “The side mirror clipped my shoulder. It’ll be bruised.” She rolled her arm back and winced at the shooting pain. “Some of the muscles are pulled, but it’s not dislocated or broken.”

Michael put his arm protectively around her as they walked toward Sam’s townhouse. “I saw the SUV from a distance. All I could tell was that it was big and dark.”

“It happened so fast, but in slow motion, if that makes sense.” She glanced up at him. The look in his eyes told her that he related. Maybe he’d had similar experiences that hadn’t ended as well.

“It was black, with a huge grille on the front.” She remembered how the chrome had shimmered in the streetlight, and how she had been paralyzed by its hypnotic effect. “It might’ve been a Cadillac or a Lincoln. I’m not sure. I didn’t get a look at the driver or the license plate number. Now that I think about it, there may not have been a license plate on the front.”

“I’m not sure it really matters,” Michael said.

Jessie flinched. “Don’t you think the details will be key in finding out who just tried to kill me?”

“I wish I could say yes, but I doubt they would.”

“Why not?”

“There are probably so many degrees of separation that you’d be wasting time chasing phantoms.”

Jessie remembered thinking the same thing after the four-dollar man had given her the envelope outside of Philippe’s building.

Michael scanned the area as they turned onto the brick walk in front of Sam’s place. “My guesses are that the SUV was rented with cash, by someone with a fake driver’s license. The plates were switched or removed, and the driver had no idea who hired him to run you down.”

“Maybe someone was just trying to scare me,” Jessie said, although she didn’t really believe it.

“I doubt it. I know that’s what you want to think, but you can’t.” He stopped, took her hand, and faced her. “You can’t.” He set his jaw and stared at her, a do-you-understand question in his eyes.

“Okay.” Jessie bowed her head against his shoulder. “I understand.”

“Let’s get inside.”

They walked up the front steps and Michael opened the gate while she found her key and unlocked the door. She started to step inside, then noticed another white envelope in the slot of Sam’s mailbox. Her secret pal’s delivery style had become much less creative. She pulled out the envelope. “Another special delivery.”

Michael followed her. He closed the gate and the door, making sure that both were securely locked.

Jessie stared at the envelope, dreading what she’d find inside.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked.

She handed it to him. “You do it.”

He turned the envelope over in his hands, looking for something telling, and shrugged.

“Nothing remarkable,” she said. “They’re the same every time.”

“Pretty basic.” He tore open the envelope and turned the ragged edge toward her.

She inched out the glossy paper inside and unfolded the page. At first glance, it looked like a copy of the multi-framed layout of Sam coming and going from Ian’s office. Most of the shots looked the same, but the woman pictured was Senator Elizabeth Briel.

“This is old information.” Disappointment added to Jessie’s exhaustion. “Deciphering the meaning of these pictures is simple. I already know about Elizabeth’s affair with Ian.”

Michael gazed at the pictures, then folded the page and handed it back to Jessie. “So, maybe we’re ahead of whoever is sending these pictures,” he said, his expression tight. “That’s where we want to be.”

“I wish I could get excited about that, but I don’t have the energy right now.”

“You look like you could use some sleep.” He drew her to him and pressed her head to his chest.

Comfortable. Safe. She could have slept there.

“You want me to stay and look out for you?” He combed his fingers through her hair.

Yes. “Thanks, but no.” She’d get little sleep knowing he was in the condo with her, even less than she’d get if he weren’t. “But could you come in and look around? Check things out for me?”

“Sure.”

She led him inside and numbly followed him through the condo as he checked out the rooms with close attention. They ended up in the kitchen.

“Nothing much has changed since I looked over the place before,” he said. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. At least not in here.”

She appreciated his concerned look. “I’ll lock myself in. And I have my gun.”

“You sure?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes and nodded. They walked out of the condo and into the foyer. Beneath the sparkling chandelier, Michael gave her a gentle kiss that felt more like to-be-continued than good-bye.

He opened the door and stepped outside. “Make sure everything is locked, then go upstairs and tuck yourself in. I’ll be around, and I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

Jessie gave him a weak wave, and watched him walk away, remembering how it felt to be in his arms, and wondering if she should’ve let him stay.