“He’s still got the puppy dog eyes,” she said.
“Don’t trust them.”
“Oh, I didn’t. Not for a minute. He’s as manipulative as ever, but he really needs to brush up on his surveillance skills. He was parked down the street when I came home from work yesterday evening.”
“Why didn’t you call me then?”
“I thought he would give up and go away.”
“Fat chance of that.”
“I waited twenty-four hours before busting him.”
“He came alone?”
“Yes.”
“How long was he there?”
“Here in the house, for about fifteen minutes.”
“You let him in?”
“For fifteen minutes,” she repeated testily. “Then I sent him packing.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not still watching you.”
“I don’t think he is.”
He had to trust her on that. She was savvy and elusive. Or had been until now. He asked the most pertinent question. “How did he track you all the way to Seattle?”
She explained how her former coworker at Macy’s had spotted her on a newscast. He began to relax a little when he realized that there was no connection between Emory and the FBI agent’s unheralded visit to his sister.
“It was stupid of me to participate in the protest,” she was saying. “I realize that now, but I never thought it would merit national news coverage.”
“But you’ve changed your appearance.”
“Not enough to fool Eleanor, it seems.”
“I remember her. You two were close.”
“She had a mad crush on you, I think. Before…”
What she’d been about to say was before Westboro. Everything had changed after that, but it was a waste of time to discuss what they both already knew, and prudently they shouldn’t talk too long. Especially in light of Jack Connell’s recent reappearance. “You didn’t leave him alone, did you?”
“Only to go to the bathroom, and—before you panic—I listened at the door. He peed and washed up. He wasn’t in there long enough to do anything else. But I thoroughly checked the room after he left anyway.”
Good girl. “What did you two talk about for fifteen minutes?”
“He mentioned Salt Lake City. Texas and Kentucky, too.”
“I don’t suppose they were vacation destinations on his bucket list.”
“Don’t be cute. He asked what I knew about a soccer coach. I played dumb, but of course he didn’t buy it.”
No mention of North Carolina or even the region. No mention of an Atlanta physician who’d gone missing for four days. Breathing more easily, he switched subjects. “How’s Sarah?”
“We’ll get to her. How are you?”