Page 117 of Say Yes to the Death

“It’s probably more of an after-class kind of discussion,” she said, nodding at the blinking security camera in the corner of the practice room.

“Understood.”

Claire unloaded all of her frustrations into the next punches—frustration with Luke, anger with her father and herself. Unbridled rage at the press.

“Whoa, killer. You’re going to wear yourself out. Slow and steady,” Sawyer said.

“You’re giving conflicting messages.” She glared at him and blew a flyaway hair from her eye.

Rosie yawned in a corner and rolled onto her back, watching curiously as Claire beat the crap out of the punching bag.

“All right, that’s enough for today. Your form is improving,” Sawyer said, releasing the bag.

“Is it really? Or are you just saying that because my life is in shambles?” Claire tugged her hair from its ponytail. Honeysuckle shampoo warred with pit sweat.

“Both,” he said, cracking a smile. “Froyo?”

“Definitely.”

The three of them left the building, blinking in the sun after the windowless practice room. It was in the 80s today. Sweat dampened the back of her neck. The dreaded back sweat had returned. At least this time, no one would be erotically pressing their body against it.

Rosie trotted along happily, chasing discarded coffee shop napkins and wrapping herself around Claire’s ankles.

“No wonder you trip so often,” Sawyer noted.

She shoved him. “She lacks focus.” Her phone beeped, and she reached for it, expecting an email from Mindy with the finalized catering menu from the gallery proposal. Aaron, at least, had understood Claire’s explanation of the news article. She stopped when she saw Sawyer’s side-eye.

He sighed. “It’s ok, check your email. I’ll keep an eye out. But tell me what’s going on.”

She glanced suspiciously over her shoulder. “Is this a pop quiz? Is that guy reading the sports section at the bus stop going to jump me?”

“No, but nice observation skills.”

“That’s nothing. I’ve been practicing. There’s a pregnant woman wearing yoga pants pushing a double stroller, but there’s only one kid in the stroller. There’s a watermelon wearing a diaper in the other seat. And then there’s the little old lady pushing a rolling grocery cart with an unusual number of green beans, but not the right bulk to be anything dangerous,” she said without turning her head.

“Wow. You don’t need me anymore. See ya,” he said, abruptly turning off down a side street.

“But froyo!” she called after him. He came back seconds later, laughing.

“Enough deflecting. What’s really bothering you? Are you worried about next week?” Sawyer asked.

Claire stared at him blankly.

“Interrogating Barney? In prison?”

“Oh, no. Not that. I mean yes, obviously I’m worried about that. I’m still not sure that he’ll give me anything of value and his buddies could be kidnapping women left and right for all I know. More things to weigh on my conscience.”

He raised his eyebrows and kept staring at her.

She sighed. “It’s Luke.”

“Surprise, surprise. How was he after your discussion yesterday?”

Claire tugged Rosie away from a discarded hotdog. “He apologized. We talked. But then he said something that really bothered me.”

“What’s that?”

“He thinks you are somehow involved in my kidnapping and the stalking situation,” she said, shooting him an apologetic glance.

---