She spoke out loud, trying to soothe her frazzled nerves. “It can’t be him. He doesn’t get out for another,” she recalculated the dates in her head, “two days yet.”
But something about the situation had put her on high alert. The way she felt right now was exactly the same as she’d felt back then when he was in one of his tempers and she was tiptoeing around him. In those days, she’d been alert for every irritated sigh, every heavy footstep, every slam of a door.
Jenna swung her legs out of bed and went to the window. The window looked out onto the parking lot, and she slowly reached out and pulled the blind to one side, peering out. A couple of vehicles were parked out on the asphalt, but she didn’t see any sign of movement. She wished she’d taken Ryker’s cell phone number. But then she almost laughed at herself. What would she have done if she had? Call him in the middle of the night, begging for him to abandon his teenage brother and come down to her to check she didn’t have any not-so-strange men prowling around outside her motel room? No, she was being ridiculous.
She knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep again tonight. She was wide awake, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Instead, she went back to her bed, flicked on the bedside lamp, thankful for the welcome glow, and lifted her laptop onto the bed.
Pleased to have something else to concentrate on for the next few hours, Jenna got on with some work. Though her mind kept wandering, and her whole body remained tense, she did her best to write copy for the latest product she’d been sent.
She caught herself glancing continually at the clock, willing the time to go by until it got to a reasonable time to call Detective Nick Harlem.
Finally, 7:00 a.m. flashing on the digital clock. With her copy piece finished and emailed back to her client, she picked up her cell. Nerves caused butterflies to flutter around her stomach. She’d not spoken to him for months; she’d not had any reason to. At one point in her life, Detective Harlem had been her rock, her only support, but now he felt more like a stranger.
Nick Harlem’s number was programmed into her phone, so she scrolled down to his name, hesitated for a moment, and then hit the call button. She took a deep breath and placed the phone to her ear. As the ringing sounded, she chewed at a piece of loose skin on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of iron filled her mouth.
“Nick Harlem.” His voice came down the phone, so familiar it was as if she’d stepped back in time.
“Detective Harlem,” she started, but her voice came out as a squeak, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Nick, I’m sorry to disturb you so early in the morning. It’s Jenna Armstrong.”
He paused and she heard him sigh. “Oh, hell, Jenna. I’m so sorry. I’ve been meaning to contact you, but I forgot to note down last time you changed your number, and I never quite got around to tracing your new one.”
“Well, I’m calling you from it now, so you can note it down, right?”
“Sure, I’ll do that. Changing your number all the time kind of makes you hard to contact.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” she said.
A rustling came down the line and in her mind’s eyes she saw the clean-cut, auburn-haired man in his mid-thirties continuing about his morning routine as he spoke to her, probably getting dressed and making breakfast. “So how are you doing?” he asked her.
“I’ve been better. The date’s coming up, and it’s getting me a little spooked.”
“There’s no need to worry, Jenna. He’s got no reason to come after you.”
She almost laughed. “Are you kidding?”
His tone grew stern. “It’s not your fault he got put away. He was the one behind the wheel, he was the one who was three times over the limit, and he was the one who forced you into the car.”
“All Garrett will think about is how I told the court he locked me in the car, and how I begged him not to drive. I saw it in his eyes during the trial. He blames me for going down, and he’ll find me and punish me for it.”
“It’s more likely he’ll just want to get on with his life.”
“You didn’t know him like I did.”
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
She paused, not wanting to feel like an idiot, but needing to say what was on her mind. “The thing is, Nick, I’ve had this horrible feeling like he’s around again. I can’t describe it. It’s like I can sense him or something.”
“How can that even be? He doesn’t get out for another couple of days.”
“I know, but could you just check for me? I have this horrible feeling and it won’t go away.”