Grabbing a second cup of coffee, Drea tried to wrestle the fluctuating ideas in her head.Racked with indecision, it was impossible to figure out where to start.She took a seat on the sofa in the living room and flicked on the television.A bubbly TV anchor was waffling on about some latest show on HBO that was meant to be the next big thing, but it meant nothing to her.
Her phone rang and she answered it.“Hello?”
“I’m Don Hexley.I’m looking for Andrea Caron.”His accent was hardcore Boston.
“I’m Andrea.What can I help you with?”
“I’m sorry, Andrea.I just became aware of a photograph you’ve been circulating.She’s a colleague of mine.Lynn Alexander.”
The phone slipped from Drea’s grasp and she caught it quickly, returning it to her ear.“You know her?”Lynn Alexander.Finally, the efforts were going to pay off.A tremendous sense of relief washed over her.
“Yeah.I was forwarded the picture you’d originally sent to somebody in Alberta.A Gilliam Gillespie?Can you tell me what you know?”
She wanted to, she really did.But what did she know about this guy?“Can you tell me a little bit more about Lynn first?”
“Lynn has reported to me for a number of years.You could say she is an investigative reporter of sorts.What she does is confidential.Why are you looking for her, and where is the photograph from?”
Drea considered her options.Hexley wasn’t giving her much to work with, but sharing the information that made up the television appeal seemed safe enough.It was public knowledge.
“I’m sorry, but the police believe she was chased and abducted from a café in Miami.I just wanted to figure out who she was.”
Don inhaled deeply.“Dear God, do you know what happened to her?”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?“I don’t, I’m sorry.Her case is being dealt with by a Detective Carter.Let me give you his number.”Drea scrolled through her phone and read the number to Don.
“I appreciate that,” said Don.“And you said Miami, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you for helping us find Lynn.And now I must ask you for another small favor, Andrea.”He sounded almost fatherly.
“What is that?”she asked.
“Step away from this now.For whatever reason Lynn was in Miami, broadcasting her presence may drive those who have her to hurt her.Lynn works with very sensitive information, and there are more people than just Lynn at stake.For your own safety, leave this alone and let me handle it with Detective Carter.”
The phone went dead.Drea looked at the screen.She checked the call log and there was a number there, not the “private number” she’d been expecting.
At last they knew who the woman was.She had a name, and a history, and a job.All of these things could help Carter find her.Perhaps it was time to step away and let them take over.After all, all she had wanted to do was identify Lynn, and now she had.
She flopped back on the sofa.Stuck in a weird intersection between boredom and paralysis, she closed her eyes.Her head hurt a little.Maybe a nap was in order to catch up from all the days and nights she’d experienced grabbing sleep between shifts.It seemed indulgent and unnecessary, but Drea got comfortable and closed her eyes.
There was banging.In her dream.Loud, thunderous knocks accompanied by someone shouting her name.
“Come on, Shortcake, I’m getting soaked.”
Drea gasped and sat upright.The sun had dropped to a dwindling half-light.Rain pounded against the window.
Thud.Thud.Thud.
The loud hammering continued.The door.
Drea leapt up and ran to open it.A very wet Cujo stood on the steps.So wet, his white T-shirt clung deliciously to his pecs and had turned opaque in places,
“Thank fuck for that, Shortcake.Thought I was going to get washed away down the street, fall down a storm drain, and meet one of those fucking weird Stephen King clowns.”
Relief washed through her that he was here, and she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs tight around his waist and her arms around his neck.He gripped her butt and stepped inside.
“I missed you, too, Shortcake.”
