Patrick’s buoyant mood at the pseudo-date with the love of his life ebbed. This was a small-town police department, not “CSI.” They couldn’t recover deleted files or get DNA off a social media photo. The odds were slim John or anyone else had even been trained to get metadata off a photo.
“Look, so far it just sounds weird and creepy but kind of harmless and bumbling. Keep an eye out, lock your doors, and if anything else comes up, keep it and call me back. Send me a copy of today’s message. I’ll see what I can dig up.”
Which would likely be a big fat nothing. Patrick worried more about Anita. Her stalking seemed more perilous than someone’s misdirected love letters.
“Thanks, John.” Patrick sighed. “Take care.”
“Tell your fiancée I’m happy to help.” In her voice, he could hear how Anita struggled to maintain her professionalism. It must be exhausting to wear a mask like that all the time. “I’d love to choreograph something for you.”
“Thanks,” John replied. “But don’t get too excited. She’s a huge U2 fan and, for some reason, wants our song to be ‘The Sweetest Thing.’”
The phone beeped twice, and the call ended. Anita’s face had gone ghost sheet white.
Patrick concealed his snicker behind a cough. “Isn’t that song about how Bono forgot his wife’s birthday?”
She nodded. “Oh well, bigger fish to fry and all that.”
She looked so lost.
He would give anything to knight-in-shining-armor her. If only she would let him. “You all right?”
Anita paused. “Yeah. Let’s practice. I need to shake this off, and I have lessons soon.”
“As you wish.” Patrick nodded gallantly, sweeping into a bow.
Chapter Eleven
She sat in her car, inhaling the scent of cheesesteak and fried peppers and onions. Across the street, she could see him through the large glass windows of the dance studio. His head was back, laughing. He was so fucking handsome, it hurt. It burned.
“To be frank, I’d have to change my name,” she whispered, letting her lips linger over the punchline. He would love her jokes. Throaty, deep belly laughs that would turn into a smoldering gaze. He was turned on by a good sense of humor. That frigid dance bitch could barely crack a smile.
She could cut a smile into her face. Yes. That’s what she deserved. Pretty little heart-shaped mouth stretched like the Joker. Who’s laughing now?
She crumpled the greasy sandwich paper in her hands and threw it into the back seat. She had had to drive all the way into the city to pick it up, but he had posted about how it was the best cheesesteak in the city #PhillyProud, and she knew she had to try one. She thought about how she would talk to him about the differences between Tony Luke’s and Geno’s and how she had always thought the best was from this hole-in-the-wall in Wayne. He would like that, she knew.
Not like that bitch. Her lips drew into a thin line as she watched the blonde dancer spin and swivel and shake her ass in Patrick’s handsome face. “Selfish cow,” she spat. That bitch did not appreciate him. It was not fair.
Patrick. Even his name was sexy sweet.
He would see her soon enough.
****
“That’s all for this week!” Patrick clapped his hands, and the couples all turned out to take their bows. “You guys all did great.Make sure to email me if you need help with your routines for Keystone, but I expect to see all of you there.”
The bell in the Lewis High School gymnasium sounded, and the kids in Patrick’s dance elective chattered animatedly among themselves.
Some things never changed. He watched one of the girls, Lana, holding court. She reminded him so much of Anita in high school. The gentle leader. Back then Anita had glowed.
She still did. It just required a bit of polish to find the shine. Mikhail’s leaving and Nikita’s murder had dulled her. Too much work, not enough time to enjoy herself. Patrick closed his eyes. If only…
“Hey, man,” said a voice from across the gymnasium. Patrick turned to see Will Forbes, one of the high school coaches and an old friend from varsity soccer.
Will was also the only child of Lewis’s beloved Sheriff Forbes. And had apparently grown some sort of weird facial hair.
“You have a thing on your chin.” Patrick gestured vaguely with his hands toward his own face.
Will grinned and ran his fingers over the strip of hair on his chin. “Really? I kind of like it. Gives me a soulful vibe.”
