Page 53

“Who? Lydia? No.”

“She took my car—with my permission. But I have to get home. I got a cat to feed.”

Daniel frowned. “Where did she go?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Can we call her?” He took out his phone. “I’ll just c—”

“I’ve tried. Three times—”

The sound of tires on the gravel drive had him turning around. Through the windows that faced the front, a familiar Chevy sedan came rolling down the slight decline.

“Thank God,” Candy said as she grabbed her coat and purse.

Daniel purposely ignored the breath he released. “All’s well that ends well.”

As Candy passed him by, she paused. “You’re a smoker? I don’t think I knew that.”

“No, I’m not.” Except then he sniffed the sleeve of his windbreaker and could smell it, too. “Okay, fine, I just had a couple.”

“If there ever was a day for it, it was today.” The woman patted his shoulder. “You take good care of our girl. We need her to not quit. If she goes, I’ll have to get a new job. Hell, I probably need to anyway. See you tomorrow, assuming there is one.”

Candy stepped out of the door, her voice carrying as she started talking at Lydia before the other woman even got out of the car.

The pair met in the middle, halfway between the parking area and the building, where more words were exchanged, along with a set of keys.

After that, Candy went to her sedan, got in, and drove off.

Lydia stood where she was and watched the woman go, arms crossed over her chest, the setting sun bathing her in gentle light. To get her attention, Daniel knocked on the windowpane—and then regretted it as Lydia wrenched around, fear on her pale face. He lifted his hand in what he hoped was a friendly way. A calm-cool-collected way.

Which was not at all how he was feeling.

If he went with his emotions, he’d be rushing out there and throwing his arms around her. Holding her tight. Not letting her go, maybe forever—

Fuck, Mr. Personality might have a point, he thought.

As she came over to the building, her eyes were on the ground, and the second she stepped inside, she seemed to gather herself, her shoulders straightening, her chin lifting.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” she said.

“Guess you owe Candy some gas money, huh.”

“I refilled the tank before I came back.” She took a deep breath. “You were right, a drive really helps clear the mind.”

“I do my best thinking on my bike with an empty road ahead of me.”

There was a pause. And then she said in a far-off way, “How do you know when to leave? A place, I mean. A job.”

Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know. For me, it’s kind of an internal clock—or maybe it’s more like one of those oven stuffer roasters with the pop-up buttons? Something inside just shifts and I’m done.”

As she looked around, her eyes lingered on Candy’s desk and then went to the hall that led back to the offices and the clinic entrance.

“Can you help me free the wolf tomorrow?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks.” She seemed to refocus herself as she brushed her hair back. “I’m just going to go feed him now. You’re free to head home. Or … off, I mean, wherever you’re going, if you’re …”

“I’ll be in my tent again tonight on your back forty.”

When she just nodded absently, he wasn’t sure she’d even heard. But then she said, “Have you ever had suomen makaronilaatikko?”

“No? I’m pretty healthy, though. Little cough now and then, but nothing more than that.”

Lydia blinked and then laughed softly. “It’s Finnish macaroni and cheese. I have some frozen back home and I was wondering if you’d—”

“Oh, right. Actually, I love solemn macaroni. It’s right up my alley, a serious dish for a man who has no sense of humor.”

Her smile lasted a little longer and he was glad.

“Okay, well,” she nodded over her shoulder, “I’m happy to walk home, if you’d like to go—”

“I’m waiting for you right here. You take your time with your wolf.”

Just in case there was an argument, he went over and parked it on the waiting room’s sofa, crossing his legs ankle-to-knee. Fortunately, Lydia didn’t fight him; she just murmured an I’ll-be-quick and strode off.

Daniel rubbed his face and then let his head fall back. The sun was setting, the light fading from the sky, everything starting to go dark. Funny, how some days were long.

And some seemed like a lifetime.

Just as his neck was getting sore, he heard a car pull up to the building. As he straightened and looked out the window, he put his hand into his windbreaker, onto the butt of his gun. It was a UPS truck, boxy and brown with the right logo in the right place in the correct color. A man in a coordinated short-sleeved uniform got out with a box the size of a toaster oven.

Looked legit. But Daniel didn’t trust anything.

He kept his hand on his gun as he got up and went to the door. Opening it, he smiled casually. “That need a signature?”

“Yup,” the guy said. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks.” Daniel scribbled on the electronic reader with his left hand. “Hopefully this is your last stop.”

“Two more and I’m off. You have a good night.”

“You, too, man.”

Stepping back inside, Daniel locked things up and went to the window. The truck did a wide turn and nearly clipped the Harley, but then it was off, moving away down the gravel road.

“Who was that?” Lydia said as she poked her head out of the clinic’s door. “I just saw someone’s taillights.”

“UPS.” He held up the box. “And it’s addressed to Peter Wynne.”

LYDIA HELD ON to the package all the way back to her house. She kept it between Daniel’s body and her own on the bike, one of her arms around his waist, the other keeping the box tight as a football in a receiver’s grip.

She forgot to tell him to go the long way to the back of her property, just to make sure no one saw them. But really, after everything that had happened? Who the fuck cared. If Susan and Bessie wanted to carry the news he’d given her a ride home to everyone who ate at the diner or bought a carton of milk and a newspaper, so be it.

Besides, all anyone would be talking about was Rick.

God, how could he be gone? As the question ricocheted around her mind for the hundredth time, Daniel pulled into her drive and went up to her house—

Had she left that light on?

“What is it?” he said as he cut the engine and she didn’t get off.

“I can’t remember whether I …”

“Your bedroom light was on when we left.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup, but let me go through the house first.”

“I’m not staying out here.” She dismounted and got her keys from her pocket. “I feel like a sitting duck everywhere I go right now.”

“Let me put the bike around back.”

She nodded and walked with him as he rolled the Harley out of view from the driveway. Then they entered into her kitchen. As he closed them in, she looked around.