Katherine stood up and stretched her arms wearily, shaking the tension out of her wrists as she looked over the row of desks in front of her. Her back ached from bending over a desk that wasn’t designed for drafting, but she couldn't complain. Wesley had insisted she work where he knew she would be safe, so she’d agreed to work out on the floor of his office with the rest of his workers. He’d wanted her to work in his office, but when she’d sweetly informed him it was either on the floor with the rest of the employees or back to Pamela’s beach house, he’d come around to her point of view real quick.
She liked it out on the floor, and this way she didn’t feel as though she were imposing too much. Telephones ringing, secretaries walking quickly back and forth in their high heels, engineers in stiff-collared shirts busy at their desks. The bustling scene had turned into background noise for her and she had been able to focus on her work quite well—until now, when she was taking a short break and admiring the scene. The only downside was that she’d found it hard to mingle with the other workers. Whenever she approached, conversations were quickly ended. She sensed it was because everyone knew she and Wesley had been an item and they were afraid of losing their job for saying the wrong thing, but it still made her uncomfortable.
The ringing of the telephone interrupted her few minutes of break.
She grasped for the black receiver. “Hello?”
“Hey, baby, it’s me.” Johnny’s voice on the other end sounded tired.
“Johnny . . . are you at work?” Her mind couldn't think of more interesting conversation.
“Not right now. I had to get out of the office for an hour or so. I’m at the diner down the street from you. Want to join me?”
“Oh, I can’t, Johnny. Not today.” She fumbled for an excuse, knowing if she saw him she wouldn’t be able to focus for the rest of the day. “I’ve got to get this work done and finish up early so I can make it to Pamela’s housewarming party tonight. You are going, right?”
“Of course. If you’re going, then I’m going.”
“Good.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
“Because sometimes it doesn’t seem like you do. Feels like you’ve been avoiding me ever since that incident out at the beach house. For a few weeks now.”
Awkward silence. Katherine closed her eyes. Yes, she had been avoiding him. How else was she supposed to figure out if he was involved or not, unless she took a step back from things to sort them out? “I have to sort things out, Johnny. Somehow.”
The other end was silent for so long, Katherine wondered if he’d hung up. “You should know—wait a minute, I need to put in another dime, just a second . . . I know I had one around here somewhere . . . there we go. Can you hear me?
“Yes. I’m surprised you had change.”
“Yeah, me too. Too bad for the waiter, guess he won’t be getting much of a tip, but you should know I didn’t have anything to do with that attack. I can’t believe you’d think that.”
“How can I help thinking that when I was attacked by your coworker?"
“He’s not my coworker anymore. The cops have a warrant out for his arrest. He’s hiding out somewhere.”
“With you?”
“No. Not with me. He knew better than to ask that. I’m not sure where he is. What I can’t figure out is how he knew you were going to be at the beach house that day.”
She paused, unsure whether she should tell Johnny or not. “It took me a while as well, until I remembered I’d seen him at the drive-in on the corner.”
“Drive-in? What drive-in?”
“Dave’s.”
He chuckled. “The one with the huge coffee cup sign? I would’ve never guessed you hung out there.”
“Yes, it actually has very good coffee.”
“So, he saw you there and followed you over? I guess that makes sense.”
“It seems to now.” Kate left out the part about seeing another man with him and Green shadowing her. She didn’t want him to know too much about her police protection.
“Well, I better get going. Basically used up all my lunch hour and my change. I’ll pick you up for the party tonight.”
“Actually, since I’m already at his office, I was going to go with Wesley. I’ll meet you there, okay?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Tears began to well up behind her eyes at the pain in his voice. “I’ll see you there,” she said quickly and slammed the phone down on the receiver before he could argue. Why couldn’t she feel safe around him like she used to? Why can't I run to him anymore?
The ache in her throat reminded her why: because his trusted friend had tried to kill her. How could she be positive he wasn’t involved in some way? She rubbed her throat again; the bruises were almost healed. Good thing, she thought on a lighter note—she was sick of wearing turtleneck sweaters. But she had to admit she was in love with the gray one she was wearing right now. She looked down in admiration at its simple good fit, at the stitch line that ran down the arms, looked down at the raspberry pleated skirt she'd paired it with, at the large belt she'd cinched around her waist. Nobody was any the wiser.
Deciding it was hopeless to focus on work, she absentmindedly shoved her sketchpad into her handbag and straightened some of the clutter on her desk as troubling thoughts about Johnny filled her head. Green would probably be ready for some coffee soon, and the drive-in’s really wasn’t bad.