A Profiler's Case for Seduction(15)
“Great, then why don’t I pick you up around seven on Friday night?”
“I’ll meet you there,” Dora countered. Though it sounded crazy, having her own transportation made it feel less like a date, less like a rule broken.
“Okay,” he said, obviously surprised. “Then I’ll see you at Manetti’s at seven on Friday if I don’t see you before then.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed.
He frowned. “Do you have a way home? I didn’t realize how dark it was until just now.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. She didn’t want him to know that she always walked home from the campus. She didn’t want him to be a gentleman and offer to see her home.
Meeting him at a restaurant was one thing, but having him know where she lived was something else. They each murmured an awkward goodbye and then he turned in one direction and she turned in the other.
She cast only one quick glance over her shoulder to find him gone, the night having swallowed him whole. She had a three-block walk to the small off-campus house that she called home.
It had been Micah who had found the house and bought it, telling her that he wanted her to focus on nothing but her studies until she got her degree and was on her feet. She’d never owned anything of her own and cherished everything about the house. She even loved the drafty upstairs bedrooms and the cranky air conditioner, the wooden floors that needed to be refinished and the creak of the staircase.
She started down the sidewalk. She’d often walked home from the bookstore after dark and had always felt safe on the campus. As she walked, her thoughts were filled with Mark.
What are you doing, Dora? The question whirled around and around in her head without any definitive answer. The truth of the matter was she could rationalize to herself all she wanted that it had just been a couple cups of coffee, that it was just a simple meal with a friend, but the real truth was that she felt an intense attraction to the FBI agent.
When he gazed at her with those beautiful blue eyes she wanted to fall into their depths, confess all her sins past and present, and if she did then he wouldn’t be able to head for the hills fast enough.
She should go right home and call him and cancel the Friday-night dinner. She should stop this whole thing before it went any further and she screwed up by saying something she shouldn’t.
Of course, she couldn’t call him to cancel. She didn’t have his phone number. Surely she’d see him around in the next couple of days to cancel. It was for the best, she told herself, and yet she couldn’t halt the small ache of regret that welled up inside her.
She was about halfway home when she thought she heard someone walking behind her. She stopped then turned around and, in the faint light from the streetlamps nearby, she saw that the sidewalk was empty.
Silly girl. Overreacting, for sure. She turned back around and continued walking. After several more steps she thought she heard the faint slap of a shoe behind her on the pavement. It was just an echo, as if somebody was matching their steps with hers and had missed a beat.
She hurried her pace, her heartbeat accelerating to an unnatural rhythm. Once again she looked over her shoulder and although she saw nobody on the sidewalk behind her, she thought she heard the rustle of the bushes nearby.
She had the distinct feeling that she was being followed. “Mark?” she called out tentatively. But there was no reason to believe that the FBI agent would be hiding in the bushes, shadowing her footsteps. Why would anyone be following her?
As she thought of what had happened to Melinda, a new fear shuddered through her, and her heart nearly exploded out of her chest. She broke into a run and her fear didn’t ebb until she was in her house with the door securely locked.
Still, she stood at the window for a long time staring out into the night, wondering if she were simply imagining things or if somebody was stalking her.
* * *
It was just after nine the next morning when Mark stepped outside the courthouse and punched in the familiar numbers to the land phone at the house he’d once called home.
He’d been thinking about what Dora had said about fathers and daughters and now an ache of need rose up inside him, the need to talk to his baby girl.
Sarah answered on the second ring, her voice holding vague surprise. “Mark, this certainly isn’t an everyday experience.” There was a chiding tone to her voice, one he knew she thought he deserved. It had been over a month since he’d last called.
“Hi, Sarah. I know it’s been a long time but I was wondering if Grace was around. I thought I might talk to her for a minute.” He shifted from one foot to the other, nervous as he thought of the little girl he loved more than life itself.