“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s Shannon.”
“What?” My heart nearly stops, memories of a sweet, soulful kiss a long time ago fluttering through the windows of my mind like one of those old-fashioned flip books. “What’s going on?”
“She’s a teacher at a school in Germany now. She’s been in Cologne about a year and has been really happy there, but something weird is happening. I think she has a stalker.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, no, but I know my daughter and she’s worried. There’s nothing concrete, but there have been a lot of little things, and they keep happening. She’s been trying to make light of it, but she was freaked out earlier today and now I’m scared, Andrew.”
“I’m not sure what I can do, but tell me everything.”
“I need you to go to Germany and find out who’s tormenting her.”
“I can’t just pick up and go?—”
“After her divorce, she moved to Germany to get away. It was messy and…embarrassing. I… That’s probably my fault, for being so hard on her, but I’m truly worried now and you’re the only person I could think of who might help us. We don’t have anyone else now that her father’s gone. Please. If not for me, then for Wayne.”
I sigh, though it’s probably more on the inside than outside. I have a lot on my plate and don’t have time for a rich, beautiful damsel in distress.
Not even one whose kiss still haunts my dreams.
“Andrew? I have money. I’ll pay you anything you want. Just please, don’t let anything happen to her.”
I make an impulsive decision even though I’ll probably regret it. “I don’t need or want money, but you have to text me everything you know about her life in Cologne,” I say after a moment. “Phone number, address, email, the name of the school where she works, names of other teachers, bosses, boyfriends—anything and everything. A recent picture. I need as much detail as possible, especially if she’s denying there’s a problem.”
“I’ll send everything right away.”
“I’ll be in touch.” I disconnect and make a call to my buddy Darryl “Chains” Carruthers, who runs Westfield & Carruthers Security in Las Vegas. I’ve worked with them on occasion and trust him implicitly.
“Hey, it’s me. I need any information you can dig up on a woman named Shannon Barrow. Approximately thirty-one years old, daughter of the late Senator Wayne Barrow. It’s important.”
I arrive in Cologne the same night and check into a hotel. I need some rest before I delve into whatever this is. The truth is that I’m not sure if I want to see Shannon or not. Our short encounter a decade ago is one of those memories you romanticize until it’s the end-all of everything: women, relationships, expectations, the lot of it.
I’ve kissed Shannon in my dreams a hundred thousand times since then, and I’d fucked more than one woman pretending she was Shannon. That’s neither healthy nor fair, to the women I’ve bedded or to myself, and my gut tells me seeing Shannon will only rip that wound open.
It isn’t really a wound. More of a faded scar. Something small but momentous that you forget about until the occasional itch reminds you it’s there. Shannon isn’t an itch, though, and the memory never faded. I’ve thought of her more often than I want to admit, and knowing she’s here, just half a mile or so down the road, is going to drive me nuts.
As tired as I am, after going without sleep for forty-eight hours, I still toss and turn. After about five hours, I give up and get out of bed, showering then pulling on clean clothes.
I hit the street and smile. Cologne is a great little town, and I’ve been here on more than one occasion. It’s December, so the Christmas markets are open and even early in the morning I catch a whiff of pastries baking. It’s a wonderful time of year to be in this part of the world. I love Europe any time of year and often toy with the idea of retiring here someday, but the weeks leading up to Christmas are special. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to spend the holidays with someone I’m in love with, but it’s too dangerous in my line of work.
Cologne is just as I remembered it, and I smile to myself as I walk down the street Shannon lives on. Her apartment building is small but a bit more modern than some of the others. The front doors are locked, offering a modicum of security, and I pause to try them, just in case. Definitely locked, which is good. The street is lined with cars, which means it’s a busy area, and a quick glance in either direction tells me traffic will pick up as people get ready for work.
According to Shannon’s mother, she doesn’t have a car. The school where she works is about six blocks away, and I head in that direction. There’s a bakery up ahead, and I can’t help but go in, smiling at the pleasant-faced woman behind the counter.
“Good morning,” I tell her in German. I order coffee and indulge in a pastry, taking both to go as I continue down the street. It’s chilly this morning, and the coffee feels good in my hands.
Shannon’s mother said she usually leaves for work about seven thirty, and it’s just seven now, so I plan to be settled somewhere I can watch her approach the school. It will hopefully allow me to see if anyone is following her. I hope not, but that’s why I’m here, after all. If I can get rid of the guy or at least find out what’s going on and turn him over to the police, maybe I won’t have to talk to Shannon at all. I can update Mrs. Barrow and go back to Limaj without aggravating any of my virtual scars.
That’s laughable.
I’ll be able to stay away from her about as well as I was able to ignore her mother’s plea for help. Samantha Barrow wouldn’t have called me if she didn’t think Shannon’s fears were legitimate, and I’m not going to let anything happen to her.
Not on my watch.
I find the school and check out possible vantage points across the street. There’s an office building that would be perfect if it wasn’t locked up tight. I could get in, of course, but this isn’t an official mission and I need to be discreet until I know what’s going on.
