Finlay Donovan Is Killing It(Finlay Donovan #1)(41)

Maybe Steven was right. Maybe I was unfit to mother my own children. Steven had never been the model parent, but the plot of my own life had gone off the rails since he’d left, and I was no closer to knowing what to do about it. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wasn’t going to sleep until I was certain no one was looking for me. Somehow, I had to avoid the police and steer clear of Andrei Borovkov.

I crept to the window, eyes peeled for strange cars outside. I caught the flash of Mrs. Haggerty’s kitchen curtains falling closed, and I quickly drew mine shut. I turned, surprised to find my socks had left impressions in the fresh vacuum tracks in the carpet. I touched my fingers together, but they were clean; the slats in the blinds were suspiciously free of dust. I sniffed the room, inhaling the sour smell I’d assumed was my own sweat-laden panic, but it was only the white vinegar Vero used to cut grime when she tidied up.

Something loosened inside me as I trailed a finger over the squeaky-clean surface of my desk. It was a relief, having someone around to balance the load. A comfort to have someone to handle the bills and help me clean up my messes, rather than rubbing my face in them. The house felt too quiet without Vero and the children. Too empty with all of them gone for the night.

I opened the top drawer of my desk, ready to burn Irina Borovkov’s note. But it was gone, too. Vero must have put it in the disposal in her panic last night. The only loose paper in the drawer was the one with Julian’s number on it. I took it out and held it, remembering Vero’s warning. She told me it would be stupid to call him, but then again, she hadn’t tossed his number in the sink.

Julian would know if the police had come snooping around the bar, looking for Harris’s car. And he might have noticed if a black Lincoln Town Car had followed me out of the parking lot that night.

Before I could change my mind, I dialed his number into the new prepaid phone I’d bought at the pharmacy earlier that morning. The call connected on its fourth ring, and my heart did an anxious flip.

“Hello?” The answering voice was deep, rough with sleep. I considered hanging up. “Whoever you are, I’m already awake. You might as well start talking.” Definitely Julian. And definitely not happy. The clock on my computer said it was already past noon, but if he’d worked last night, he probably hadn’t gone to bed before three. “If you don’t say something, I’m hanging up.”

“It’s Theresa.” The name rushed out on a held breath.

“Hey,” he said after a beat of silence. There was a rustling in the background. An image of him in a pair of clingy pajama pants and very little else parked itself front and center in my mind, completely unbidden. “Did you change your number? You came up as ‘unavailable’ on my phone.”

No, I am definitely available. It’s stupid, how available I am. “Yeah,” I said, shaking that thought from my mind. “There was an unfortunate incident involving a garbage disposal.”

“Sorry to hear it.” The words seemed to curl around a sleepy smile. “I’m glad you were able to salvage my number.”

God, I probably sounded desperate. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot you work nights. I shouldn’t have called so early, but…” But what? I hadn’t considered what I would actually say if he answered. I couldn’t come out and ask him if anyone had come to the bar asking questions about Harris, or if anyone had followed me out of the lot that night. Not without piquing his curiosity. And if I was really being honest with myself, I wasn’t even sure that was the only reason I’d called.

I shut my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. “The truth is, I’ve had a really, really crappy week, and I just needed to talk. Has anyone ever told you you’re really approachable?” His laughter chipped away at some of the tension in my shoulders. I sagged, feeling ridiculous for bothering him. “You know what, that probably sounds crazy, and I should probably just hang up now—”

“No,” he said, “it’s not crazy.” A lazy Saturday morning softness returned to his voice. “I was actually kind of hoping you would call.” In the silence that followed, I pictured him lying on his back, one arm folded behind his head, his honey-blond curls falling over his eyes. “I was worried about you.”

“You were?” I sat up straight, determined to ignore the flutter in my stomach.

“Yeah, I was wondering if you made it home okay. Did you get your alternator checked?”

I blew out a sigh as I remembered the battery. “Not yet,” I confessed. “But I will. Thanks for your help the other day.”

“I was just glad for the chance to see you again.”

A reluctant smile pulled at my cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer.”

“I was hoping you’d stop by the bar last night, but it’s probably for the best that you didn’t. The place was nuts. We wouldn’t have had much time to talk.”

“Oh?” The hair on the back of my neck prickled at the sudden shift in his tone. “Nuts how?”

“There’s some police investigation going on. A detective came by. He kept pulling the waitstaff off the floor to ask questions. I was in the weeds all night.”

“What happened?”

“Some guy’s wife reported him missing. He was at the networking event on Tuesday night and no one’s heard from him since.”