He was standing outside Hannah’s apartment building, hidden in the shadows, hoping she’d return soon. Not daring to hang out at the coffee shop like he used to, he would just pass by every so often, keeping an eye out for when she returned. After confirming she was there this afternoon, he’d gone to her apartment building to wait for her. They needed to talk.
The trust fund money was just sitting useless in a bank. He needed that money. Not even all of it. A few hundred thousand would be fine, and that was a small fraction of what she had. She would barely miss it, but it would solve all of his problems. He could pay the property taxes for his grandparents and all their delinquent medical bills and still have plenty to check himself into rehab and get clean. That was vital to putting his life back together, getting a job, taking care of his grandparents, and finding a place of his own. Ever since his parents died and his grandparents took him in, he vowed to take care of them when they needed it. He would do whatever was necessary to keep that promise. Hopefully, Hannah would see reason and not put up a fight. He didn’t want to hurt her, but if it came to it, he would.
With the drugs, he could function. Without them, he was a sick mess, so he’d taken just enough to get through a conversation with Hannah.
Ah, finally. From where he was hiding, she couldn’t see him, but he watched her walk around the corner to her apartment building entryway. He waited until she entered, quietly caught the door just as it was about to latch, and slid in unnoticed behind her. She was waiting for the elevator, staring at her phone. Without looking her way, he walked casually in the opposite direction to the stairwell. Losing the red hat had been a no-brainer. When he watched the news and saw that they kept referring to him as the man in the red hat, he’d mentally slapped himself around and blamed the drugs for such a stupid decision. What an idiot to wear something so conspicuous to attempt murder! Without it, he was unnoticeable, and she didn’t even glance his way. As soon as he entered the stairwell, he ran up the stairs as fast as his drug-ridden body would take him. Wow, he’d become weak. Five flights of stairs had him huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf.
His first idea had been to enter the apartment and wait for her to get home, but the building manager must have changed the locks after his last break-in, because the key he’d stolen then no longer worked. This was his next best idea. Trying desperately to calm his breathing, he waited in the recessed doorway of the apartment one door down from Hannah’s. He didn’t think she’d had time to get off the elevator, walk down the hall, and enter her apartment, but his thoughts were a little fuzzy, and he couldn’t be sure how much time had passed.
A second later, the elevator doors opened, and she exited, bouncing down the hall as if in a hurry. She rifled through her purse, pulled out her keys, and opened the locks. As soon as she turned the doorknob, Zach came out from his hiding spot and pushed her into the apartment, following close behind and locking the door behind him.
“Zach! What are you doing?” she asked with a horrified look on her face. The phone she’d been carrying had fallen to the floor, and he kicked it away when she went to reach for it.
“Hi, Hannah. You remember me, huh?”
“Yes, I got my memory back about two weeks ago. I know it was you that pushed me into traffic, and I’ve told the detectives. There’s a warrant out for your arrest.”
“Shit.” Why hadn’t he thought of that? He plowed a hand through his hair. Of course, she could identify him. This was bad.
“Look, Hannah. I don’t want to hurt you. I just need you to sign something for me, and then I’ll go.” He pulled out the wrinkled form he’d printed from the Internet. He’d get her to sign the form and then worry about disappearing from the police later.
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess. A power of attorney form?” Hannah smirked. “You’re not getting access to my trust fund, Zach. I don’t know how on earth you think you could. You have absolutely no claim to it. Even if I did sign it, the second you walked into the attorney’s office, they would call the police.”
Damn it.Thathadn’t occurred to him, either. What was wrong with his brain? The room started to spin, and he really wanted to sit or lie down, but he couldn’t leave without what he’d come for. He gripped the chair back for support as a bead of sweat ran down his face.
“Oh, my God. Are you on drugs right now? What the hell happened to you?”
“My life is shit, Hannah. Ever since you left, it’s gone straight to hell. I need that money to take care of Archie and Elaine.”
“Yeah. I’m sure this is all about your grandparents and has nothing to do with your drug problem.”
He had to sit down. Or take another little bit of the pill in his pocket. He’d done a little meth before coming to her place, but it was wearing off fast. Stupid street shit. You never knew what you were going to get. Sometimes it was more potent than you expected, and other times it was cut with who knows what and basically useless. He staggered to the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water. While his back was turned, he pulled half of a tiny white tablet out of his pocket, threw it in his mouth, and chewed. Crinkling his nose at the bitterness, he rubbed it into his gums with his tongue. It wasn’t the most effective delivery, but he couldn’t very well crush it up and snort it right here in front of Hannah. He had some dignity.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jake was sitting in the squad room, typing a collision report on his laptop, when Kris walked in holding a Grinder’s cup. Great, just what he needed, something else to remind him of Hannah. He glanced at it and frowned.
“Hey, Mopey Joe,” Kris said, setting her things on the table across from him. “Saw your girl at the coffee shop earlier today.”
“She’s not my girl.” He hoped he wasn’t pouting but couldn’t be sure.
“She saw us leave the bar together last weekend,” she said. Jake’s head snapped up, and Kris raised her eyebrows to indicate what Hannah had thought of that. “I set the record straight.”
A flicker of hope took root. “You think she misunderstood? And that’s why she hasn’t called?”
“High probability on that. She seemed shocked but relieved when I told her we took your butt home and left you there. I was with Trisha, and I think she riddled out that I wouldn’t be interested in youthatway, anyway.”
“Shit. Maybe I still have a shot then. What should I do? You think she’ll give me another chance?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“How long ago did you see her?” He nodded to her cup. “Hannah usually only works mornings.”
“Oh, yeah. It was a few hours ago. I’ve just been refilling the Grinder’s cup with regular coffee.”
“I gotta go.” He slammed his laptop shut and shoved it and his papers into his bag. “Tell sarge I’m taking the rest of the day off. I’ve got a woman to woo!”
“Woo?” Kris laughed.
