“Do that.” He opened the door and indicated Sullivan could leave. “Give her my best.”
Because Ramsey put no restrictions on when he could call, Sullivan had a dial tone as soon as he was behind the wheel of his truck. He knew she was still at work so he was surprised she answered as quickly as she did. He did not waste breath on pleasantries.
“What is it, Ramsey? How can I help?”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“I just do. Tell me.”
She swallowed hard, wondered if he knew she hesitated in order to clear the ache in her throat. “Give me a moment. I have to move somewhere quiet.” She left the coffee shop and headed to lawn and garden, which was virtually deserted. She went to the back where steel shelves loaded with towers of clay pots mostly hid her from camera view. “Are you still there?”
“I am. It sounds quieter now.”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to say something else. When she didn’t, he prompted. “Ramsey? Talk to me.”
“Yes. Right. Of course. Um. I saw Buddy this morning.”
“I know. He told me.”
“Did he mention I was with someone?”
“He did.”
“I thought he might. I want to explain.”
“Isthere something to explain?”
“I think so, yes, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. I get off at six.”
“Okay. Your house? A restaurant?”
“Neither. Can I come to your place?”
“Sure. I’ll make you dinner.”
“Don’t. Not for me. No appetite.”
“Sounds serious,” he said. His attempt at levity fell flat. “Sorry. I didn’t—”
“Don’t apologize. This is new for me too. I never…um, that is…I’ve been so careful not to…” She blew out a breath. “Fuck it. I don’t know what I want to say let alone how to say it. We’ll talk later. All right?”
“All right,” he said before he realized he’d said it to dead air.
Ramsey took a circuitous route to Sullivan’s house, watching her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed. She hadn’t seen Jay’s silver Audi Quattro in the parking lot, but then she hadn’t gone up and down the aisles to locate it. She wasn’t even entirely sure that he knew where she worked, but since he knew other things, it stood to reason he knew that. She doubted her reference to Burger King had thrown him. And his motivation to find and follow her would be in proportion to how much money he owed. More than ten thousand? she wondered. More than twenty? She was probably low balling it, but then she had never been a gambler.
Well, only the once.
Ramsey circled the block around Sullivan’s house before she decided to park on a side street and walk through three back yards to his place. If he lived in an older neighborhood as she did, he’d have an alley, and she wouldn’t have to skulk and worry about someone calling the cops.
She leaned against the rail of Sullivan’s back deck while she waited for him to open the door. He turned on the light and looked out. He was on the phone. She gave him a little wave.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Tereshko,” he was saying into the phone as he ushered her in. “I see her now. Yes, it’s a she, not a he. And no prowler. Yes, ma’am. Got it under control. Yes, I’ll make sure she knows you don’t appreciate her traipsing through your yard. You have a shot gun?” He lightly slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Sure, I’ll tell her that too. G’night, Mrs. Tereshko. That’s right. Call any time.” He set the phone on the table and looked Ramsey over.
“Why don’t you have an alley?” she asked without preamble. “There should be alleys. That’s where trash collection is supposed to happen. Not on the street. Garbage trucks lumbering down the street are not a good look.”
“Huh. Not what I was expecting, but okay.” Sullivan accepted the coat she gave him and went to the hall closet to hang it up. “You want to sit in the kitchen?” he called to her when she didn’t follow. “The living room?”
