Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(17)
He pulled his hand away to lift his cup. Jayne’s empty hand fisted on the table. The break in contact left her uncomfortably bereft.
“Furniture repair, general carpentry, that sort of thing.” His phone buzzed. He glanced at the display. His face went stern again. “I’m sorry. The time got away from me. I need to go.”
“Thanks for the chocolate.” Jayne covered her disappointment with a smile. Once again, all the information had flowed in the wrong direction, from her to him.
Reed looked like he was going to say something and changed his mind. “You’re welcome. I’d like to walk you back to the inn, but I totally understand if you decline.”
“Thank you, but I’m going to browse for a book to spend the evening with. Even if I had wheels, it’s too cold to go anywhere tonight.”
His tall frame unfolded. He draped his coat over a strong forearm. “OK, then. Enjoy your stay.”
He tossed the remains of his coffee in the trash on the way out.
Unable to sit still, Jayne headed for the bookstore below. She brought her nearly full cocoa with her. She felt raw and exposed after telling him about the attack. Why had she? It wasn’t like her to open up to strangers. Normally, she didn’t talk to anyone she hadn’t known since birth. Once again, he’d asked all the questions. She, who was supposed to be doing the investigating, hadn’t learned one thing about him. The way he locked down his emotions and personal information told her there was something painful in his past. She was sure of it. No one was that guarded without a reason.
She still had nothing on R. S. Morgan. If anyone in town knew him, they were excellent at keeping secrets. Given the small-town dynamics she’d witnessed so far, vital secret-keeping didn’t seem likely. Either the artist didn’t live here or he lived under a secret identity.
Jayne selected a historical romance from the bargain table. No more reality tonight. She stepped out onto the sidewalk. In the dull yellow cast of the streetlight, flurries blew past.
Walking briskly, she turned off Main Street onto Third. The inn sat two blocks down. She hadn’t expected the street to be deserted and dark this early. It wasn’t even five yet. In Philadelphia, commuters would’ve crowded the sidewalks at his hour. She quickened her stride.
The hairs on her nape lifted in the frigid wind. She stopped. Her head swiveled. No one behind her. No sound but dry leaves blowing in the gutter and the beat of her own heart echoing in her ears.
The feeling intensified as she began walking again. Her grip on the bookstore bag tightened. She glanced behind her. The street was empty. The light from the inn’s porch beckoned from halfway up the next block. Jayne picked up her pace.
She approached the inn. Relief welled in her chest as her feet hit the brick path. She checked the street behind her again to find it clear. She’d never used medication before, but if unfounded anxiety was going to plague her like this, she might consider it. She couldn’t live in a state of paranoia 24/7.
High hedges lined the walkway. Steps from the porch, she passed through their shadow.
Blinding pain and a flash of brilliant white light exploded in her head. She pitched forward and was caught. She was barely cognizant of movement and the agony that ricocheted through her skull before darkness consumed her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hey, Brandon.” Scott crammed his books into his backpack and shut his locker. He turned down the near-empty hallway and tapped his buddy Brandon on the shoulder. “Hang on a minute, dude.”
Brandon whirled, wide-eyed.
“Whoa. Relax.” Scott backed away a step, hands in front of his chest, palms forward in the classic stick-’em-up position. “I just wanted to see if you were gonna be online later for a little Halo action.”
“Sorry, man. No can do.” Brandon ran a shaky hand through his spiked blond hair. “I got a couple hours community service to do over at the Youth Center.” Brandon’s eyes shifted toward the open glass-and-metal door at the end of the hall, where a dull gray sky promised snow. “Looks like the mayor’ll have me shoveling sidewalks all weekend.”
Both boys turned and headed for the doors.
“Shit. I forgot. How many more hours did you get?” Scott yanked his hood out from under the back of his jacket and flipped it over his head.
Brandon huffed. “Fucking Judge Hard-Ass gave me two hundred.”
“That sucks.” Stiff penalty for getting caught with a couple of beers, Scott thought.
“You know how it is. People hear the name Griffin and automatically think I’m the bad seed.” Brandon’s mouth thinned down to a razor’s edge. With a deadbeat dad and a brother in prison, everyone assumed Brandon was a troublemaker. The judge had handed down the harshest sentence possible for what Scott thought was a minor infraction.
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.” Brandon nodded.
“You working at the auto shop tonight, too?”
Brandon shook his head. “Gotta be home by eight to watch my little brothers. Mom’s tending bar tonight.”
“You’ve been putting service time in every day. Is Hall a total prick to work for?”
“No.” Brandon’s face flushed with emotion. Anger? Frustration? He stiffened and faced Scott, his jaw set for a fight. “Mayor Hall’s cool. If he hadn’t stepped in, I might’ve gone to jail. My mom ain’t exactly rolling in cash for a fancy lawyer.”