What She Forgot (What She 2)

“Apparently, my receptionist only works nights,” I said absently.

He laid his palm on the back of the chair across from my desk. “May I sit?” he asked.

I closed the file in front of me. “Is this about the vigilante killer?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s about Shelly.”

“What about her?”

He glared at me. “Are you going to keep her?”

He spoke of her like she was a stray puppy that no one really wanted. “I wasn’t aware that I had her to begin with.”

“Oh, you have her. She called Lynn this morning gushing about the case you solved a couple of days ago. She was really proud of you.”

“What case?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

“It was on the news this morning. The cops in another state found a fugitive from here. You called in the tip…” Suddenly he winced. “Jesus,” he muttered, as he rubbed his temple. “Shelly strikes again,” he sang out.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“At her apartment, I’d assume.”

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I jumped up and rushed across the room, sliding into my jacket as I went. “Where is her apartment?”

Mason stood up too. “Why? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to tell her thank you, of course.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“No, I’m a really good liar. What’s her address?”

He pulled out his phone and started to dial. “I’ll just need to ask her if it’s okay to give you her address.”

“Never mind,” I muttered as I breezed past him. As long as she hadn’t moved, I knew where she lived.

He yelled my name and sprinted to catch up with me. “What are you doing to do?” he asked.

I was going to get rid of Shelly Punter. That’s what I was going to do.

He followed me all the way to street level where I’d left my car. “Are you really mad at her?” he asked, cutting his eyes toward me in the elevator.

I said nothing.

Hell yes, I was mad. With one misplaced word, she could ruin my reputation, my business, and my life.

I got in my car and slammed the door. I saw Mason pull his phone from his pocket as I pulled away, but I really didn’t care if he warned her. She was going to see me. We were going to finish this. Shelly Punter could not enter my life and then whirl around like the tornado she was, ruining everything in her path.

I stopped in front of her apartment building and pushed buttons until someone buzzed me in. Then I took the stairs up three flights and stopped at her door. I didn’t even wait to catch my breath. I knocked. Hard. So hard that my knuckles throbbed.

No one answered. I knocked again.

The lock slid free on the other side of the door, the scraping sound of it doing nothing to calm my nerves. The door opened, just a crack. I leaned forward to look inside. I saw no one, so I laid my palm on the door and slowly pushed it open. “Shelly,” I called out.

I didn’t step inside. At least not yet.