And why was a helicopter in the backyard? “It wasn’t there to life-flight me,” she whispered. Wasn’t that really all she needed to know?
Searching the Mustang’s interior, she found her cell, then cursed softly. Seven messages, mostly work. She was a day late on MP3’s, not that she couldn’t catch up, but since Road Rover, work was pouring in. Paulie and Sally had found her jacket. Good. She stopped scrolling. Emily Madden, aka Mom Mad. Dad Mad was the principal of the high school and Mom Mad oversaw the library.
With a groan of frustration, she pressed the phone to her ear. “Aribella Madden, are you alright? Call me as soon as possible. The Higginses said your car was at Boondocks, so you must have had car trouble again.”
“The Learning Investment,” she whispered. Getting the contract would impress her folks. Her gut told her the slogan was going to be as big as “Just do it.” Better than “A mind is a terrible thing to waste.” If she landed the account, her parents could tell their friends their black sheep daughter was doing something more with her life than explaining erectile dysfunction to the masses.
As she drove off the lot, Ari adjusted the rearview mirror, putting Pants on Fire in hindsight. She could swear he’d solicited physical responses she’d only read about in Cosmo magazine. Pushing away the memories was no use. Definitely, she wanted to drive to his house and wake him in a very nice way. Suddenly, a part of her didn’t care about Raleigh, or packing, or Road Rover, or the upcoming Final Event. All these years, she’d dreaded the morning after letdown. But for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel it. She just wanted more. She wanted him.
“It was your imagination,” she whispered.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Ari shivered as she sped toward the police station. It was 9:20 a.m. and she’d left in such a hurry that she hadn’t brought a jacket or umbrella. It was drizzling, the temperature near forty. Over the hypnotic sweep of windshield wipers, a newscaster announced a tornado watch for later in the day, typical mercurial weather for this time of year in the South.
“What kind of maniac would do such a thing?” Ari said into her cell.
“I don’t know. I’m glad you’re on your way,” said Lizzie.
Not as glad as Ari. She wanted to focus on anything but the stranger. When the phone rang, she’d been trying to fix the weird echo in the soundproofed walk-in closet before running errands to stock up on supplies, in case there really was a tornado. She wanted to take the guy’s coat to the cleaners, too, but first, she’d had to knock out the MP3 for the acid reflux people. They were patient—she loved acid reflux—and then she’d decided to finish a voice-over for sleeping pills. That turned out so well that she, herself, had almost fallen asleep. Would have, if she hadn’t been thinking about Mr. Electricity.
Steering with her knee, she shifted gears and repositioned the phone. “This settles it, Lizzie, I’m getting you a Taser and pepper spray. And we’re taking concealed carry classes.” She’d shot guns a few times, if only during the few weeks she’d dated Jason Orley who owned a gun shop. “Lizzie, start at the beginning and tell me everything again.”
“I was following my usual routine,” Lizzie began, delivering the story in stops and starts, since she was shaken. “I went to work. Got my muffin and tea, just like every morning. Maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention. I was thinking about the rice bags we still have to get for the wedding, and I wanted to check with the florist, to make sure the yellow roses will be really fresh.”