Instinct told her he most certainly had.
Popping open the drawer the rest of the way, she looked inside. The slot that should have held a stack of twenties now contained a lone bill, as if someone hadn’t wanted to be so obvious as to empty out the space. “Hey, Chase. Hold on a sec.”
His jerky look back over his shoulder, the defensive glint in his eyes, confirmed her fears. He’d lifted money from the cash register.
Jacob would be livid. Hell, she was livid. She couldn’t even bear to consider what this meant for Emily and Madison.
She reacted with her heart rather than her head, wanting to save Jacob from knowing. “Put the money back, Chase, and we can let this go.”
With a snap of his head, he flicked a hank of walnut hair from his face. The defensive glint evaporated, a belligerent glare taking its place. “What money?”
“I’m not stupid, so don’t act like I am. Put it back.”
Chase sauntered forward. Smugness mushroomed from his every step like an insidious threat. “Even if there was money missing, how’s Jacob gonna know you didn’t take it?”
He stopped almost toe-to-toe with her. The lobby suddenly seemed small…and deserted. Wind moaned through the eaves while Dee struggled not to flinch. How could she and Jacob both have misjudged this kid?
Chase didn’t look much like a kid at the moment.
The phone shrieked through the silence. They both twitched, but Chase didn’t budge.
“Fine, Chase. We’ll play this your way.” She pivoted away to dismiss him, cowardly, maybe, but she wanted him out of the lobby. Now. She reached for the phone.
His hand fell on her shoulder. Dee’s stomach lurched as if she’d taken a wrong turn off a mountain curve.
Show no fear. Regardless of how he looked he was just a kid. Pull out the adult authority, put him in his place and get him out the door.
Dee plastered her best “schoolmarm frown” in place and shrugged his hand loose. “Chase, step back.”
His bravado slipped. Dee almost sagged with relief—until his eyes narrowed with a male arrogance meant to intimidate, insult.
The phone stopped ringing.
Where was the child who’d swung a shovel at snowballs? The boy who’d chased his girlfriend through the snow, the young man who held his baby tenderly?
Chase ambled forward, forcing her to retreat until the backs of her legs pressed against the computer chair. He smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant or in any way childish. “You have quite a rep around here thanks to all the gossip. No secrets in this town. People aren’t sure what to think of your whacky amnesia claim. You’re not in any position to be talking trash about me.”
His eyes journeyed a slow drag down her body and back up again, lingering on strategic places.
A shiver trickled down Dee’s spine like a melting icicle. Without another word, she pushed past him. Maybe she could lock herself in Jacob’s apartment. Chase’s hand snaked out. He grabbed her shirtfront.
“Not so fast.” He twisted the fabric, yanking her forward. “Where do you think you’re going?”
The chill iced all the way through her veins.
Where do you think you’re going?
His words echoed in her head, deeper pitched.
Where do you think you’re going?
A Midwestern twang sounded, rather than Chase’s local lilt.
Fear gripped her tighter than Chase’s fist on her shirt. Dee’s feet tangled. The shirt pulled taut. Panic frothed, higher, higher still, until she screamed. Couldn’t stop screaming. “No!”
“Calm down.” Chase eyed her warily. His hold on her still unrelenting, he shook her. “Don’t get wigged out or anything. Hey now—”
—not so fast, growled the Midwesterner’s voice, a voice from her past.