Till Death(25)

People needed to be more aware of their surroundings. Weren’t there enough 20/20 specials highlighting the importance of vigilance and personal safety? Apparently this little one thought she was invisible. They all did.

A horn blew in the distance, and she still didn’t look up, didn’t seem to hear the footsteps only a handful of feet away. So close, the apple-scented shampoo wafted into the air as the wind played with the blond strands of hair.

This one . . . this one was going to be really special but required a bit more patience. Not tonight. But soon.

She would see this one.





Chapter 8




It really wasn’t a date.

That’s what I told Miranda when I spoke to her Tuesday evening. That was also what I told Mom every time she brought it up, which was around a hundred times. And when Jason stopped by Wednesday during lunch, bringing a plate of cookies an employee had made and which he was obviously trying to unload on us, I told him the same.

Apparently Miranda had gone to Jason with an update.

Angela snatched a chocolate-chip cookie off the plate as she walked past the island, carrying an armful of clean dishtowels. “It sounds like a date to me.”

I was eyeing the plate, but was trying to behave myself. “How do you know about this?”

“Your mom,” she replied, popping the cookie into her mouth.

Jason watched Angela shove the towels into the drawer. When she pivoted around, he hastily faced me. “I think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea.” Angela all but skipped past us, snatching another cookie. “These are delicious. Thank you, Jason.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” he stammered.

Angela smiled brightly as she headed out of the kitchen, appearing oblivious of Jason’s gaze latched onto the sway of her hips. I arched a brow when he finally managed to drag his attention back to me.

“What?” Jason asked.

“Nothing.”

He grinned as he folded his arms on top of the island and leaned over, slightly bent at the waist. “I’m only a man.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I did have another reason for coming over here that had nothing to do with cookies or checking out Angela.”

“Good to hear,” I replied dryly.

Jason winked. “Did the adjuster for the insurance company get out here yet?”

I shook my head. “One is coming out tomorrow.”

“They should’ve gotten here quicker or had you get the appraisal. You should let me look at your stuff. I bet I can get you better rates and better service.”

“I do need to update my insurance.” I continued to eye the plate of cookies. “I can get you the stuff later.”

“Great. Give me your email address and I can send you the list.” He smiled. “Eat a cookie.”

“A cookie is the last thing my ass needs,” I told him as I grabbed a pen and a Post-it note from the counter. I scribbled my email address down and handed it over.

Jason chuckled. “So how are you getting out to Cole’s then?”

“I’m using Mom’s truck.” I really did want a cookie.

“Sounds good.” He pushed away from the island. “Don’t forget if you need any help with the insurance claim to ask and to get me that info.”

“Will do.” I smiled at him. “Thanks for the cookies.”

“No problem.” Jason started to turn but stopped. His shoulders tensed. “I am glad you’re back, Sasha.”

“Me too,” I admitted softly.

“I just hope you don’t regret it.”

My gaze flew to his. “What?”

“I . . . I keeping thinking about that woman and what the mayor had said,” he explained. “I don’t want it all to stress you out, because it had to be hard for you to come back here, and for this to happen? It’s messed up.”

I relaxed a little. “It won’t stress me out. I’m not going to regret coming back here, Jason.”

He smiled, but something about it didn’t feel right—didn’t seem real—and I knew right then, he didn’t believe me.



Getting ready for dinner with Cole felt like I was getting ready for a date. Half my clothes were strewn across my bed. I’d changed no less than three times, finally settling on a pair of questionably slimming dark denim jeans I wasn’t sure I could sit comfortably in and a sheer black sweater that required a camisole underneath. I paired the outfit with my knee-high gray boots, which were my absolute favorite.

I went for the whole natural, not-trying-too-hard look, which equated to thirty minutes of applying a face full of natural makeup and about forty minutes of waving my hair.

My heart raced the entire time I was getting ready, and I couldn’t recall feeling this way before the dates I had in the last couple of years. Sure, I’d been fairly excited about them, but this was different. I felt like my heart was trying to throw itself out of my chest.

Luckily Mom was busy with the couple that was checking in, and I was able to slip out without having to witness her happy dance. Mom didn’t necessarily trust me with backing the truck up and not taking out a family of four in the process.

Grinning at that thought, I unlocked the door and climbed in, dropping my purse on the seat next to me. I turned on the car and doubt seized me with blunt, heavy claws, digging in and locking up every muscle.