“The Rockettes-style kick line after the home run.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And yours?”
“The relief pitcher’s Michael Jackson ‘Thriller’ dance.”
“Oh, before I forget, I still have your phone.” He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She took the device and frowned at the smudge marks on the screen. As she tried to wipe it clear of fingerprints with her T-shirt, it glowed to life.
Three missed calls. It was probably another spam bot.
“Do you remember where we parked? I should’ve taken a picture,” Charlie asked.
“Um, yeah . . . we were on Kern Street,” she said half paying attention, trying to open the voicemail. “Ugh, the signal is spotty.”
“You’ll have to lead us there,” he said in a resigned tone.
She mentally kicked herself. She should’ve been paying more attention. Charlie was talented at disguising when he had problems with his memory. They’d spent so much time together that sometimes she even forgot he had problems until he asked for help.
“I’m sorry. Of course.” She shoved the device into her pocket. “Do you need me to get us on the freeway too?”
“If I have the GPS voice talking to me, I can manage.”
She laced her fingers through his. His hands were soft. She knew them intimately from spending hours upon hours holding on to them. They were long, slender, and powerful.
“Did you have fun tonight?” she asked.
“I did. It was the perfect escape.”
They reached Charlie’s black SUV. He clicked the fob to unlock the doors. “Do you want your bags in the back seat?”
“No, I’ll just put them by my feet.”
He nodded and opened the back door. “Remind me when we get home that these are back here.”
“I’ll put the reminder in my phone now.”
Opening the passenger door, she slid inside and unlocked the screen. The glowing red number three reminded her about the voicemails. She tapped the button and held it to her ear. A robotic voice said, “You have three unopened messages. First message. Hi, Frankie; this is Suzy. Please call me as soon as you get this.”
She frowned. Why would Suzy be reaching out to her? As far as she was aware, her dad was supposed to be home tonight watching his James Bond movie marathon.
“Second message. Frankie, I’m sorry to call you again, but your father has called me twice now and left an incoherent message. Have you heard from him at all?”
Frankie’s heart lurched. What was going on with her dad? Why hadn’t he tried to call her? She tapped to the next message. “Frankie, I’ve driven over to your apartment and your father has a high fever. I’m taking him to urgent care.”
She gripped the edge of her seat. Her pulse pounded erratically like a horse galloping full speed ahead.
Charlie climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door. “Okay. Let’s see. Maps. Sequoia Valley directions.”
She dropped her phone and then scrambled to find it inside the bag with her merchandise. She leaned forward, but the seat belt held her in place.
“Sloth got your phone?” he joked. But the words died on his lips.
She shook her head and started to cry. Racing around the car, Charlie was by her side in an instant. “Frankie? What happened?”
He removed her seat belt and took her into his arms.
“Suzy called. Something’s wrong with Dad.”
CHAPTER 21
