Sasha parked in her reserved spot behind the condo building. The predawn sky was gray and the air was cold when she left the car. Connelly joined her on the sidewalk and they hurried into the building.
In the hall outside her unit, Connelly took out his gun and motioned for her to unlock the door. After she turned the key, she stood back. He eased the door open and stepped inside, gun drawn.
Two minutes later, he poked his head out. “All clear.” Then, “Nice place.”
She shrugged. It was a nice place. The building was an old paper warehouse that has been renovated into condos with new wiring and plumbing and high-end finishes. It was in a great location. She still missed the drafty Victorian house she’d rented before she’d bought the place. But the allure of original woodwork, pocket doors, and a clawfoot tub couldn’t compete with convenience. With the hours she worked, homeowner tasks like using her hairdryer to thaw the frozen pipes under the kitchen sink in the morning and going from room to room to bleed the air from the radiators had become too much of a chore. The condo was almost maintenance free. An investment.
Once inside her soulless home, the first thing she did was take off her heels. The second was to head to the kitchen to grind coffee beans. As she set up the filter, Connelly started randomly opening cabinet doors. Then, he pulled open the refrigerator.
“Can I help you with something?” she said over her shoulder.
He stared at the contents of her refrigerator. Skim milk. A shriveled lemon. A jar of wheat germ. Olives. A six-pack of beer.
“Don’t you have any food?”
“Uh . . .” She opened the pantry. A bag of rice and a jar of cashews stared back at her. “Nuts?”
He just shook his head.
“Sorry, Connelly. I’ve been working on an appellate brief. Haven’t had time to shop.”
It was true. It was also true that Sasha never had much food in her house. She didn’t really spend any time there. Keeping groceries on hand just meant she’d have to throw them away after they went bad. For the same reason, she had no pets or plants. Her brothers always said her place looked like a builder’s model or a hotel room, as if no one actually lived there.
As the coffee machine came to life, she looked at Connelly. He was wrinkled and rumpled. His change of clothes was a bloodied dress shirt and a suit that had been shoved into a duffle bag.
“Do you want to take a shower?”
“Thanks, but there’s no point. I don’t have anything else to wear. I’m thinking I’ll drop you at your office and then go to my place and clean up. Get something to eat. You know, food? “ He pantomimed eating. “I’ll check in at my office and then come to yours. I assume you’ll be safe there.”
She smiled an apology for the lack of food.
“Could you turn the rental car in at the airport and pick up my car for me?” If she was going to be stuck with a bodyguard, at least he could make her life easier.
“Anything else? Do you want to give me a shopping list?” His tone was light.
“I guess that depends on how long you plan to stick around.”
She left him with a steaming mug of coffee and headed into the bathroom to shower and change for work.
She emerged from a very hot, very long shower feeling almost rested. She dressed in a charcoal gray suit dress and a warm black sweater. Then she dried her hair and headed out to the kitchen, a pair of black pumps dangling from one hand.
Connelly sat at the breakfast bar, looking out the window at the parking lot. She slipped her feet into the shoes and took a coffee mug from the cabinet.
He turned. “A silver Camry has cruised through your parking lot twice.”
“Okay?”
“It has Maryland plates.”
Sasha’s heart skipped. She put the mug down and went over to the window. The lot was almost full. Most of the cars had been sitting all night, and a light frost covered their windows. Not the rental car, though. Its engine was still warm. It sat there, with its Nebraska license plate, like a big arrow pointing at Sasha. Here she is, it yelled to the world. She pulled her sweater tight across her chest and turned away from the window.