Picked(31)

What? No. Wait a minute. “No way. Can’t you just tell him I was with you?”

“No, but I’ll call him for you. I’ve got things to do. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“You don’t have to babysit me. Stop!” I ordered, pulling his phone from his hand. Goddamnit, I didn’t want to stay in Davenport with Matt. I wanted to spend the evening with Becker. Grrr. I hated my life. “Just go. This is bullshit. You think maybe you could have told me? I don’t even have clothes.”

“Really, Cassie? Maybe you should check your voicemail.”

Looking for my cellphone, I found it in the bottom of my purse. He was right. Three new voicemails. One from him and two from Justine. I opened my text messages and read the ones from Justine first.

Justine – I am going to kill you dead!!!! Call me

Justine – This isn’t funny. I’m going to call your dad.

Justine – Okay. That’s it. You’re dead, laying beneath a pile of decomposing leaves, aren’t you?

I texted Justine and told her I was alive and well before reading Becker’s, saying good morning with a smiley face.

Cass – Good morning. I think I may have to cancel our plans tonight. It looks like I am going to be out of town for work.

I immediately got one back from both him and Justine. Justine demanded that I call her and tell her about my weekend, but to wait until after five. She was at work. Even though hers was meant to be serious, I took Becker’s more seriously.

Becker – I thought you were a secretary of some sort. Why are you going out of town?

Cass – Convention, I was proud of my quick response back.

Becker – For what?

Shit.

Cass – We’ll talk later. I have to go.

I needed time to think about that one. I had nothing. I was blank.

Becker – Cass?

Cass – Yeah?

Becker – What kind of foundation do you think we’re building if we start off with lies?

Cass – Really? Let’s not talk about lies.

Becker – What does that mean?

Cass – We’ll talk later. I promise.

Becker – Okay, have a good day.

Cass – Thank you. You too.

“I’m about ready to drop your ass off at the next gas station,” Matt said, pulling my attention from my cell phone. The cell phone Becker Cole had made me forget about for two whole days.

“What?”

“What part should I repeat?” Matt asked smartly.

“Hmmm.”

“Forget it. Do you want to swing by your place for a change of clothes or not?”

“Yes. That would be great, but I still shouldn’t have to do this. You’re not the boss of me.”

“Then stay home. I don’t care. I’m doing this because your father asked me to. You don’t belong out here anyway.”

That hurt my feelings. I thought he volunteered to help me because he cared. I should have known my father threatened him. The other thought crossed my mind, too. The one where I could get out of the car, stay home, and lie to my dad. No. That wouldn’t work. Matt wouldn’t lie for me.

“Just take me to get some clothes,” I barked. He was ruining everything. “Why do we have to stay there anyway?”

“I need to stake the place out. The guy’s got a room reserved there. We’re going to catch him with his pants down.”

I rolled my eyes. Great. I was going to be stuck in a room with Matt for god knew how many hours. I would die of boredom and irritability for sure. I pouted most of the two-hour drive, listening to the radio rather than the adultery case Matt was rattling on and on about.

I was wrong. I didn’t have to worry about being stuck in a room with Matt for hours and hours. We were stuck in the car for hours and hours.

“Why the hell are we just sitting here?” I moaned.

“We’re on a stakeout. Is this your first day?”

“It’s so stupid. Why do we have to sit here all day? We didn’t even see him leave the airport. He probably isn’t even coming here.”

“You were standing there when I asked if he was on the plane. I have no idea what time the guy is going to check in. Do you? My time, unlike yours, is valuable. I don’t have time to give this case more than today. We’re waiting until something happens.”

Thank god I had Becker. We spent a lot of time texting. I laughed out loud more than once. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it. Becker was telling me stories of him and Mason growing up. They were funny little boys. I laughed, picturing the two of them as little boys, pissing on the radiator because it sizzled.

“Who is he?”

“Who?” I feigned ignorance.

“The guy. Who’s got you so riled up?”