I regret to inform you that this is my letter of resignation. I have found a position at another company more suited formy career path and skill set. Thank you for the opportunity to work at Bradshaw Enterprises as your personal assistant.
Respectfully,
—Kate Dawson
I read it four times before moving into action. I run out the door to the kitchen.
“What spa did they go to?”
Jackson looks up at me with his mouth full, shrugging. “No idea,” he mumbles while chewing.
“Dammit,” I say under my breath as I jog toward the elevator.
“Where you going?”
“To get her back.”
I run through what I’m going to say the whole way down to the parking garage. I practice out loud in my Lamborghini while searching for spas in Dallas on my phone.
The fact that it’s nearly ten p.m. hits me, and I realize there’s no way she’s at a spa right now.
Why would she leave without talking to me?
After I sent the sunrise photo this morning, she texted back, and nothing seemed wrong.
The FBI must have said something to her to scare her off during the interview. My chest squeezes with the realization that the right thing to do would be to let her go.
It’s better this way, safer.
CHAPTER 39
KATE
It’s beenfour weeks since I last saw Luke. I haven’t heard anything from him since the late-night phone call the day I left his penthouse, which I never answered.
If he wanted to talk to you, he would. If he wanted to see you, he would explain.
I found an affordable apartment to rent. Even if it is in a sketchy part of town and across the street from a strip club, at least it has some privacy. I love Mel, but I would rather sleep under a bridge than go one more night on her lumpy sofa.
I finally retrieved my belongings from the apartment I shared with Maddie. She and Stephen have let the place deteriorate from slightly messy to downright disgusting. He was high off his ass when I went by. I was vibrating with rage as I threatened to shoot him between the eyes if he ever tried to talk to my dad again.
Okay, I also threw his precious guitar off of the third-story balcony into the murky pool in the courtyard. I don’t usually go for revenge, but I felt slightly better afterward. I still put him on a no-visiting list atMemory Care to be safe.
It’s my second week at my new job with Greetings from Us,a company that designs and sells birthday cards. I’m a personalassistant once again, but the designer I’m working for has already asked to see a portfolio of my drawings. A glimmer of hope seems to be blinking on the horizon of my life even though my crumpled heart feels like it might never recover from falling for Luke and ultimately crashing into a concrete wall.
Will a career doing what I love fill the void of losing the man I love?
The man who might actually be a murderer?
I shove the negative thoughts about Luke aside as I walk through the back exit of the nursing home. Sandra, sitting at the front desk, directed me to the garden and pond area, where my dad is participating in a two-stepping night for the senior residents of the facility.
I immediately spot him among the others because he almost looks like he works here, considering he’s under sixty. He’s up, dancing with a white-haired woman whose head is thrown back in a laugh.
“If my wife shows up and sees this, you’d better run, Shirley!”
I laugh out loud at his statement, shaking my head as I approach. I went home to change after work, so I’m wearing a short yellow sundress I bought because I was sad and it made me feel pretty. My blonde hair is in a loose braid.
“You’re killing it, Shirley,” I tell her as I approach.
