THIRTEEN
MARRIED? OH MY GOD, HE WAS MARRIED. Lyra was mortified. Had she been flirting with him? She thought about it and decided no, she hadn’t, but still, her attitude would certainly have been different if she had been privy to that important information. She might have said one hubba-hubba to herself, and that would have been it. Lyra had never gone after a married man, and she wasn’t going to start now. Not that it mattered. First of all, she didn’t know how to go after any man, and second, Sam had made it perfectly clear with his one-word stay-out-of-my-business answers that he wasn’t interested in her, even if he weren’t married.
She wasn’t going to ask another personal question. Sam had let her know—and he hadn’t been subtle about it—that he wanted to keep his private life private, and she would respect that. If he wanted to tell her anything more, he would. But she would not ask.
“Children?”
“No,” he answered.
Stop asking, she told herself. Just stop. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“Married.”
“Three years.”
Dear God, why couldn’t she stop with all the questions?
Had his cell phone not rung, she would have kept right on interrogating him. Perhaps to discourage her, he looked out the window while he listened to the caller. He was only on the phone for a minute, and when he finished the conversation, he was still staring at the street.
“Look out the window,” he told her.
Lyra turned around.
“Do you see the man across the street?” Sam asked. “He’s leaning against a post, and he’s holding a newspaper in front of his face.”
Lyra leaned to the side to see around the other diners. The man in question had the newspaper plastered against the lower half of his face just below his eyes. Peeking over the top, he was obviously not reading.
“I see him, but I can’t see his whole face.”
“You will. Just wait a minute. He keeps lowering the paper to get a better look inside the restaurant. Okay, there he is.”
“I see him.” The man was standing in the sun, and his face was clearly visible. “Oh, my, are those scars?” She squinted against the sunlight’s glare. “And is that his real hair? What’s he doing? Is he trying to see us?”
“I think that’s his plan.”
“He’s spying on us?”
“Uh-huh.”
Lyra tilted her head and leaned closer to Sam to get a better look. The way the man’s head kept popping up over the newspaper reminded her of the arcade game Whack-a-Mole.
“He’s not very good, is he?” she said.
Sam smiled. “No, he’s not.”
A car sat a few feet away from the man. It was the only one parked on the busy street, which had NO PARKING signs every fifteen feet. He was so preoccupied watching the restaurant, he didn’t notice the tow truck that had pulled up behind the car.
Lyra watched as the incident unfolded. “You know what? He looks familiar, but I can’t think where I might have seen him. Maybe on campus,” she decided. “He doesn’t look much like a student, though.”
The tow truck driver had finished making the connections to the car and was getting back into the cab of his truck when the man behind the newspaper glanced in that direction and realized what was happening. Looking dumbfounded, he dropped the newspaper and started running toward the car, shouting and waving his hands.
“Do you think he has anything to do with those men who broke into my apartment?” she asked.
Sam went to the window to watch. The tow truck came to a stoplight, then drove off. The car owner chased down the street after it.
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. That guy doesn’t look like he could pull off much of anything.”
Lyra gathered her things and started toward the front door, but Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him through the kitchen and out the back door.
“Are we going back to my apartment?” she asked.
“Yes, but we won’t stay long. Pack what you need, and we’re out of there.”
“What about my car?”
“It stays.”
“It’s crazy for me to move. If those men come back, they’ll find me on campus. It would be easy for them to get my schedule. So why bother moving from one place to another? They could just follow me home from class.”
“Your apartment isn’t safe,” he said. “There’s only one way in and out, and the door is flimsy.”
“The super is replacing it. It might already be done.”
“Replacing it with another flimsy, hollow door that anyone could kick in. As soon as the door’s open, you’re a target. Anyone on the street could see you. There’s no real security,” he continued. “No peephole in the door, no cameras filming the parking lot …”
“There’s an electronic gate,” she reminded him. The gate was why she chose the tiny apartment in the first place, that and the fact that it was on the border of the campus. She and Sidney could walk anywhere.
“Did the gate keep them out?”
“No, but …” She stopped arguing. Anyone who wanted in could get in.
“After this is over, you could make the apartment safer before you move back in. Better locks, cameras, intercom … there’s a lot more that can be done.”
“Moving back depends on how long it will take the detectives to catch those men. I’m finishing the program pretty soon, and I’ll be officially done with the university. Same with Sidney.”
“Do you have a job lined up?”
“No.”
“Any ideas where you want to live? Maybe close to your ranch in Texas?”
“No,” Lyra answered. There had been a job offer from that TV station in Texas, but she knew she really didn’t want that.
“San Diego then?”
“I don’t know.”
His questions were bringing back her panic. Here she was almost finished with her graduate work, and she still didn’t know exactly what direction her career would take. Oh, and there were two horrible men who wanted God-only-knew-what from her. They’d turned her apartment upside down looking for something. If she didn’t have whatever it was, they would kill her, she decided, and if she did have it, they’d take it and then kill her. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation for her.
“I think I should stay in the apartment, and the detectives could set up a trap and catch these men. Sidney should move to a safer place, of course. That’s a good plan, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“No? No explanation? Just no?”
“That’s right. No.”
All the way across campus Sam scanned their surroundings looking for possible threats. He never once looked at her. Until she said, “You should wear your wedding ring.”
“What?”
“Your wedding ring. You should wear it.” She put her hand up. “That’s all I’m going to say.”
He looked to be at a loss for words. Embarrassed because she had turned the conversation from professional to personal, she blurted, “I’m just saying … you should, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“Why wear a wedding ring? Because you’re married,” she pointed out.
“No, I’m not.”
She was beginning to really dislike this man. Yes, he was being professional, and seemed to be good at his job, and from what she had heard about him, he was heroic and a good friend, but, in her opinion, he was also nuts.
She had a feeling he would get along great with Gigi.
“Three years, remember? Married three years?”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
“But you’re not married.”
“No, I’m not.”
Okay, she was done. He didn’t want to tell her the truth or share anything personal with her, and she had to accept that.
Married. Not married. She no longer cared.
Lyra figured he was divorced and didn’t like to talk about it, which was fine with her. She would quit trying to be sociable.
When they finally arrived back at the apartment, Sidney was sitting on the sofa organizing and stacking papers she’d collected from the floor. Max was fishing papers from under the sofa and handing them to her.
“Are you okay?” Sidney asked. “You look irritated.”
Lyra sat down beside her. “I’m fine. How about you?”
“Good,” she answered. “I cleaned up the mess in my bedroom and packed, and now I’m tackling the living room.”
“I’ll do the kitchen and my room,” Lyra said.
She was full of nervous energy and wanted to burn some.
She worked on her bedroom first. The two thugs had torn everything apart. They’d broken most of her treasures. The old clock she’d had since high school and her old-fashioned phone were in pieces. They’d even trashed her ocean sound machine.
Muttering to herself, she went into the kitchen to get a trash bag and carried it back to her bedroom. Once it was filled, she put the bag by the front door. Sam, she noticed, was on the phone, and Sidney was still sitting on the sofa. Max was sprawled next to her. His hands crossed on his chest and his legs stretched out, he appeared to be sleeping.
Sidney looked at Lyra, tilted her head toward Max, and rolled her eyes. Max was good-looking but nothing like Sam, Lyra thought.
Lyra went back to work. She must have made twenty trips between the kitchen and her bedroom and bathroom before all three rooms were clean. Then she packed an overnight bag with enough clothes to last a week, carried the small suitcase into the living room, and dropped it next to Sidney’s. Remembering her laptop, she slipped that into her backpack and put it next to her overnight bag, and she was finished. All she needed to do now was take a quick shower and change her clothes.
Sam finished his call, opened the door, and stepped outside.
“What are you doing?” Max asked without opening his eyes.
“New door’s here,” Sam said.
It wasn’t the flimsy door Lyra expected. It was a top-of-the-line model, according to the man installing it. It had a peephole and not one but two dead bolts. Just what Sam would have wanted, and a sure sign that he had something to do with it.
“Is the super okay with the new door?” Sidney asked.
Sam answered. “I didn’t ask him. A kid could have broken through that old door.” He winked at Lyra. “After all this is done with, this should keep you safe.”
Lyra blushed and suddenly remembered to tell Sidney about the children’s film Mahler just assigned her. They moved into Lyra’s bedroom to discuss the opportunity at length.
“Do you really think you can get it all done in time?” Sidney asked.
“I already finished the toxic dumping documentary and handed it in.”
“Congratulations. You did a fantastic job, and I’m sure everyone will be blown away by it.”
“I love that you’re so optimistic.”
“What about that garden in the middle of the dump? Are you giving up on that?”
“I don’t want to,” she said. “The professor doesn’t want me to drop it either. He thinks it’s an interesting idea, and he seems to think I can do the children’s short first and then the garden documentary.”
“If anyone can do it, you can,” Sidney encouraged.
Lyra let out a long sigh. “I hope so. The break-in, and the threat of someone still out there waiting, and the bodyguards … it’s all so much to deal with. It’s going to be difficult to stay focused.”
Sidney sat on the bed. “Let’s change the subject to something more pleasant,” she said. “What do you think of Sam?”
“I think he can’t wait to get away from me.”
“Wrong. No way. Since you walked in, the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”
“That’s his job,” she said.
“Inside our apartment where you’re perfectly safe? He watches you, Lyra, and no wonder, he’s no different from any other man.”
She shook her head. “He’s very standoffish. He doesn’t talk about himself at all.”
“And?”
She sighed. “Don’t you think he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen?”
“He’s not bad,” she drawled. “Max is no oaf either.”
Sam appeared in the door. “Time to go. You, too, Sidney.”
“Why can’t we stay together?” Sidney asked.
“Anyone who gets near Lyra is in danger.”
“Lovely,” Lyra whispered. “Now I’m a lightning rod.”
She put her arm around Sidney’s shoulder as they walked into the living room to gather up their bags. The fear she had felt at first was now turning to anger. Sidney had been attacked; their apartment had been destroyed, and no one knew why. Who were these men and what did they want? Lyra was determined to find out.
FOURTEEN
MILO CHASED THE TOW TRUCK HALF A BLOCK, CAUGHT UP with it at a stoplight, and tried to bribe the driver into letting him have his car back. He offered him two hundred dollars at first and kept increasing the amount, until the light changed and the driver stepped on the gas and drove off.
Cursing a blue streak didn’t help. The tow truck was already out of sight. Milo was thankful that no one from the company had witnessed his stupidity. He should have known better than to park his car on one of the busiest streets in Los Angeles.
Watching his car being towed away was the culmination of a disastrous weekend.
The unfortunate chain of events had started last Friday at the Rooney yard sale.
Before the police arrived, Milo quickly left the Rooney house, drove home, and unloaded all the treasures he’d gotten at the sale, including Babs’s huge diamond ring. Then he got back in the car and drove to the office to talk to Mr. Merriam.
The boss was in a frenzy. The door to his office was closed, which meant he didn’t want to be disturbed. As Milo hesitantly approached, he could hear Mr. Merriam ranting and raving. Milo took the risk of knocking.
“What do you want?” Mr. Merriam bellowed.
“I want to tell you about a sale I attended,” he called out so the second shift at the collection agency wouldn’t think anything was out of the ordinary.
“Come on in then.”
Milo expected to see other men in the office with the boss, but Mr. Merriam was alone. Had he been shouting at the walls?
