Page 61 of Date With Danger

I register the moment Amelia sees him because her smile freezes in place and the blood seems to drain from her face.

I’m already off the bench and pounding down the pavement in her direction. Is her ex stalking her? What is he doing here? I can’t get too close to the door without being seen so I park myself at a small coffee stand outside, peeking through the gaps in the Styrofoam cups.

“Can I help you?” the woman running the cart asks.

“Still deciding,” I grumble.

My cell rings and I pull it out.

“We have to go,” Cruz says. “A local museum’s been robbed.”

I tug at the end of my hair. “Hawthorne?”

“That’s what they think.”

Does that prove or disprove Amelia’s innocence? She hasn’t had contact with him, that we know of. And I’ve been inside her apartment, the woman doesn’t care about art in any form. Except for her taste in clothing. She’s a walking masterpiece.

This is all Liam.

“What was taken?”

“A single painting,” Cruz says.

“Security?”

“Didn’t see a thing. And all footage was erased.”

“I’m coming.”

This doesn’t make any sense. Liam Hawthorne isn’t one to rob small-scale museums. What’s going on here?

There’s no way Amelia is in on this.

Standing here now, my accusations against her feel ridiculous. Maybe Darla was the neighbor who lived in Amelia’s apartment before she moved and the old man can’t keep track. Maybe the jewelry box was her grandmother’s. Maybe her meeting Liam was a coincidence. In the harsh light of day, I thought I would see through the cracks in her manipulations, but all I see is her good soul. What was I thinking? This woman doesn’t work for thieves and killers, she’s kind and sweet.

But I’ve been fooled before.

I cast another glance back at Amelia and the man who appear to be having a heated conversation. Maybe I’ll wait a few more minutes, just to make sure she’s okay.

Chapter 25

Amelia

The Justin standing in front of me is not the same man I ran into last night. But maybe the one from last night was all wrong because this unhinged version of him reminds me of the night we broke things off. He begged, I think there were even some tears, telling me over and over again that he couldn’t lose me. I was the only thing that mattered.

“Maybe you packed it in with your stuff during the move,” Justin tries again. “Can I come by and look for it please?” His tone is far from pleading. His fists are curled until his knuckles are white and there’s something scary flashing in his eyes.

“I promise I don’t remember seeing your ring.” I’m outright lying now, but I don’t want this man anywhere near my apartment. “How did you find my new salon?”

He moves to the left so I do too, pulling my cart with me to keep it between us.

“That doesn’t matter.” He shoves a hand through his hair, which is greasy today and unkempt. So unlike him.

“Yes, it does. Maddie was right; I need to get a restraining order.” The entire salon is quiet. Collectively holding their breaths while they take sides. They better be on mine.

“No. Please.” He takes a breath, but it doesn’t seem to calm him. “I’m sorry. I’m…in some trouble. I lost my job.”

“At the nursing home?” Being a lifeguard was his whole personality. Maybe that’s why he’s so rattled.

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