Because I Can (Necklace Trilogy 2)

Life can be fleeting.

She might as well have punched me in the gut.

Life is fleeting, for some more than others.

My mother won’t be around long enough, no matter how long she’s here, and just the idea of losing her shreds me. But at least I know that, for now, she’s safe and well. I don’t know that to be true or false when it comes to Allison.

The mystery around her only seems to expand.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I sit down at the desk and pull open a drawer. There’s a pen box sitting in the center and I pick it up, flipping open the lid. Inside I find a Tiffany pen, distinctive by the blue color, and worth a few hundred bucks. The older classics are worth thousands, which I know from research I did for Riptide. This one is a thick, masculine pen, which is curious. It seems like an odd thing to leave at the shelter but maybe it’s not hers, but a customer’s. I don’t know. There are a lot of odd things about everything surrounding Allison. I close the lid and seal the pen inside the box, before setting it back inside the drawer. There’s a business card next to it and I pick it up, hope stirring as I realize it belongs to a local real estate agent. Maybe, just maybe, Allison left and did so with free will and purpose. Of course, the agent could be someone who adopted, but I choose to hang onto that newly discovered hope. I grab my phone and stick the contact in my address book. There’s actually a handwritten number on the back of the card and I input that contact as well, labeling it as “Allison’s mystery number.” Once I’m done there isn’t much more here to see, but I am determined to look harder. I open every drawer, dig around, and do so to no avail. Aside from an expensive pen and a business card that may or may not mean anything, I’ve got nothing.

Discouraged, I stand up and exit the office. As she’d indicated as likely, Jessie still isn’t back upfront. Eager to stay connected with her, I step to the front desk and grab a piece of paper and a pen quickly jotting a thank you note with my number included one more time, just for good measure. I’m just finishing up when the bells on the door chime. A moment later, I hear, “Allison.”

The deep male voice is not familiar, but I react instinctively, turning and replying with, “Yes?”

I find a tall, good-looking, dark-haired man, in a custom blue suit and an equally expensive trench coat, standing just inside the doorway.

“You’re not Allison.”

Unease slides through me and not just because I’m forced to lie again. There is something about this man that sets me on edge. “I’m her sister,” I say. “And you are?”

His lips press together, his eyes sharp. “She doesn’t have a sister.”

Every nerve I own is officially standing on end. This is the man who sent Allison the necklace. I know it with every fiber of my being. “Apparently she does,” I say, “and she just didn’t tell you. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Where’s Allison?” he repeats.

“She’s not here,” I reply.

“That’s not an answer,” he snaps back.

“That’s all the answer I’ll give a man who won’t even tell me his name.”

He studies me for several heavy beats, and then turns and exits the shelter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The man has only been gone mere moments when Jessie reappears in the lobby. “Oh good, I caught you. I forgot to give you my cell number.”

I blink and shake myself, not sure what just happened. The man just left. It was abrupt and I’m very confused right now. Jessie offers me a card. “This is me. I hope we hear from her soon, honey. I’m worried.”

“Me, too,” I say. “Has she ever had a man stop by here to see her?”

“Not that I know of, but she’s a beautiful girl. She certainly got hit on all the time. Why? Are you worried about a stalker kind of thing? I swear now I’m thinking the same thing.”

“No. No, it’s not that,” I say, though maybe it should be, I think, “Not really. I mean, this good-looking man in an expensive suit, dripping arrogance and money, just came in looking for her.”

“My God, why can’t a good-looking man dripping arrogance and money come in here and ask for me?”

I should introduce her to Tyler, I think, but instead, I say, “It was weird. He refused to give me his name. If he comes back, get his name, will you? And his contact information.”

“Of course,” she says. “I’m dying to know who he is myself. Maybe he thought you’d know him by name and not in a good way?”

That is a curious thought. Maybe he did.