Page 76 of Say Yes to the Death

“Any updates since I was out, Candace?”

The receptionist shook her head. “Not really, Mr. Goulding. Just an AFA at Giuseppe’s restaurant. Brad’s on it.” A fork rested in a half-eaten carton of what appeared to be roasted broccoli and brussels sprouts. Either she had a gut of steel, or she wasn’t shy about fumigating the office with cruciferous-vegetable-induced flatulence. She offered Claire a bottle of water as Sawyer filled out a security badge.

“Wow, this is very official,” Claire said as she hung the visitor badge around her neck.

“We are in the business of security.” Sawyer pushed open a set of double doors.

They walked into a training room, complete with wrestling mats, weight equipment, and punching bags. Claire bounced on her toes, beyond ready to start punching things.

“Ooh. Where do we start first? I would love to hit something.” Her purse hit the floor.

He scooped it back up and handed it to her. “You’re not ready for that yet. Especially after what I saw this morning.” He led her to a side door, which opened into a classroom with about twenty desks.

She shot him a dirty look and sat in the front row. “What do you mean?”

Rosie leapt onto a seat at the desk beside her, panting happily and looking quite pleased with her newfound height.

Sawyer leaned against the large wooden desk at the front of the classroom. “The best defense you can possibly have is simply being aware of your surroundings. First lesson: try not to wear your hair in a ponytail when you’re walking alone.”

“But why—ow!” Claire screeched as his hand whipped out and gripped her hair, dragging her head down onto her desk.

Rosie jumped out of her chair and growled at Sawyer with bared teeth.

“Rosie, hush,” Claire said, face smashed against the spiral of her notebook.

“It’s okay,” Sawyer said, releasing her. “I wanted to see her reaction. Good girl.” He pulled a dog treat out of his pocket and tossed it to her.

She sniffed it suspiciously for a moment and looked at Claire before taking it and retreating into a corner. She kept her eyes on Sawyer.

“Ponytails are easy for bad people to grab,” he continued, walking back to the front of the classroom. “Do yourself a favor and make it harder for them.”

“Point taken,” Claire said, rubbing her neck.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked sheepishly.

She shook her head.

“Good,” he said in a much louder voice. “Second lesson: do not wear headphones, earbuds, or anything else in your ears that will compromise your awareness. Do you know why so many women get abducted when they’re jogging?”

“They’re usually listening to music?” she guessed. Running without music sounded almost as bad as getting abducted.

“Exactly. And if you’re listening to music, you can’t hear footsteps or cars approaching. Third problem. Your eyes are glued to your phone.”

“I get it—I should be watching my surroundings,” Claire grumbled, skin prickling.

He smiled. “For someone who is so controlled and disciplined, you certainly have a lackadaisical approach to personal safety.”

“Sawyer, this is central Pennsylvania. It’s not like I’m walking through downtown Detroit wearing a suit made of hundred-dollar bills. I’m more in danger from being trampled by a rogue cow or runaway cheesesteak cart.”

“An interesting take. And yet, remind me. Were you in Detroit when you were abducted?”

She sighed. “No.”

“Where were you?”

“Here,” she said in a mopey voice.

“Exactly. Over eighty-five percent of sexual assault victims know their attacker. It doesn’t matter where you live if someone has set their sights on you.”

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