New York to Dallas (In Death 33)

He scanned the bar, the lobby, considering and rejecting as he sipped his club soda.

It took twenty minutes, but he spotted her. Pretty and petite in a short black dress. Costume jewelry, a bit too carefully made up, and brown hair that could’ve used some highlights and a zippier style.

But he gave her credit for the hot-pink heels.

Early twenties, he judged as she made her way to the bar. Smalltown girl in the big city. When she sat at a table nearby, he considered it a sign.

He didn’t even have to move to make it work.

She ordered a champagne cocktail. Living it up, he thought, watching her look everywhere at once. He made sure she’d glanced his way when he checked his wrist unit, frowned. Then he caught her eye, smiled at her.

She blushed.

“I think I’ve been stood up.” He shrugged, smiled again. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just have to say, those shoes are amazing.”

“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip, glanced around again. Plenty of people at the bar, excellent hotel. What was the harm? “Thanks. I just bought them today.”

“Terrific choice.” He turned his wrist again as if checking the time. “Are you visiting Dallas?”

“Um.”

“Sorry.” He waved a hand. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh . . . That’s okay. I’m here to see some friends. We’re having dinner, but they had to push back the reservation. So I thought, well, I’m all ready now—”

“And wearing amazing new shoes.”

She laughed, and he thought it was just too easy.

“I thought I’d have a drink down here instead of sitting in my room.”

“Can’t blame you a bit.” He waited until the waitress served her, ordered another club soda. “I’m supposed to meet a client, but as I said . . . So where are you from?”

“Oh, Nowhere, Oklahoma.”

“Seriously?”

“It might as well be. Just a little town—Brady—south of Tulsa.”

“You’re kidding me! Tulsa,” he said, tapping his chest. “That’s where I grew up—until I was sixteen anyway, and we moved here. Broke my heart. I had to leave the girl I was sure was the love of my life. I can’t believe it. Brady, Oklahoma, and she sits down with her amazing pink shoes right in the same hotel bar. I have to buy you a drink.”

“Oh, um—”

“Come on, Okies have to stick together.” Careful, he told himself, and simply shifted to face her more directly. “Matt Beaufont.”

“Eloise. Eloise Pruitt.”

“It’s a pleasure, Eloise. So, is this your first time in Dallas?”

He engaged her, made her laugh, made her blush. He paid for his drinks and hers when the waitress made the next round.

“Look, do you mind if I join you, just until you have to go?”

Before she could answer, he grabbed his drink, rose. He moved fast, sliding his chair over next to hers, boxing her in.

“I really should—”

“Sit very still, and keep smiling at me. You feel that, Eloise? That’s a knife. If you make a sound, a move, I’m going to have to put it in you.” Her eyes were so wide, so shocked. Another thrill. “It’ll ruin the line of that dress, and get blood all over your amazing pink shoes. We don’t want that.”