Page 80 of Say Yes to the Death

“For Kyle and Nicole? Yeah, I’ll be there. Fair warning, I played a lot of flag football in my day.”

“That doesn’t scare me,” she teased. “I’ll see you there. Also, there’s this thing that I have to go to next Friday.”

With Luke dead to her and Nicole and Mindy in a meeting, she had no date for the awards. Maybe it would be nice to have a friendly face along. And, as a bonus, he could strictly enforce a perimeter around Claire if the alleged serial killer ring decided to act up at the ceremony. Or if Wendy came over to gloat about the lawsuit.

“It’s an awards ceremony for entrepreneurs in the valley,” she continued. “I am currently dateless, and my nemesis—the one who’s suing me—will be there with my ex-fiancé. Any chance you’d want to come along as a friend?” she asked, putting perhaps a little too much emphasis on the f word. “Maybe tackle anyone who tries to murder me?”

“I will be your personal security detail,” he said, winking as he went inside.

By the time she had made it back to her car, she and Rosie were drenched from head to toe and her stomach was in knots. She popped her trunk open and pulled out a towel. At least she hadn’t neglected her emergency towel. She flung it into the back seat before buckling Rosie into her seatbelt.

The windshield was hopelessly fogged up from the volume of wet hair in the car. Claire cleared a circle on the inside of the windshield and saw a small plastic bag tucked under her wiper blade. A paper was barely visible inside.

“Seriously, a ticket? Thanks, universe,” she muttered to herself about unclear street cleaning schedules as she opened her door, welcoming another wave of water into her already hopeless hair.

She snatched the bag from her windshield and shut the door behind her.

Her blood ran cold at the sight of her name scrawled across the front of the paper. This was no parking ticket.

She engaged her automatic locks. Sawyer had been very clear on the importance of vehicle safety. Should she run back to Sanctum? Sawyer would open it. Or Kyle and Nicole. But she had burdened them enough this week.

With shaking hands, she opened the bag and carefully unfolded the note.

Welcome back. We are always watching. Stop digging for the truth, or westart digging your grave.

CHAPTER TWENTY

To Do:

- Order some furry handcuffs

- Update social media release form

Claire’s arms were asleep when she awoke the morning of Tyler’s proposal.

“Ha!” She shouted to the ceiling. She may have invisible pins and needles stabbing along the lengths of her arms, but she hadn’t woken up standing in the middle of Market Street at midnight eating a bowl of pot pie. Hopefully, this would be the first of many wins today.

Rosie leapt onto the bed and licked her face. Claire wiggled against the scarves that anchored her to her headboard. Maybe she hadn’t thought this through.

Ten minutes later, after extricating herself from her restraints and barricaded bedroom door, she sipped her first cup of coffee and peeked out her hallway window to the ground below.

“Oh, shit. Not again.”

News trucks lined the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. The landlord had closed the rear entrance to repaint. And her dog very much had to pee. She was trapped. What had suddenly piqued their interest? She had done a quick internet search that morning and there was no mention of a second (or third) note. Sawyer hadn’t told anyone.

Rosie whined and licked her ankle. How was she going to get downstairs without being spotted? She glanced at her watch. Tyler’s proposal wasn’t taking place until dark, but there were so many details to check up on. Everything had to be perfect. She needed to take care of this now.

Claire opened her hallway closet and pulled out a backpack. “Come on, Ro. You know the drill.”

Rosie climbed obediently (for once) into the backpack. Claire slung it over her back and threw on a pair of sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat. She shut off the motion sensor and opened her bedroom window. Distant car horns and the smell of freshly baked bagels greeted her as she swung one leg over the sill. Her stomach lurched at the smell. The buttery croissants she and Luke had shared on their way to the Champs-Élysées had smelled almost the same. But that was a lifetime ago.

With one leg hanging out the window, she stopped and glanced at the news vans. Two anchors from separate channels were speaking on camera thirty yards from her window, but they didn’t seem to notice her.

She shuffled out onto the fire escape and quickly descended the three rickety flights to the sidewalk. She nipped around the corner of the building and hustled to Buchanan Park before letting Rosie out to pee and scrambling back up the fire escape.

She stopped when she hit her floor. She had just openly left her bedroom window ajar in a city of 300,000 people, at least one of whom was taking an inordinate amount of personal time to threaten her. Detective Smith had told her when she’d turned in the latest note that they were waiting for approval to place Officer Schiccitano as her full-time guardian angel, but it hadn’t been approved yet. Sure, she had only been gone for ten minutes. But what if they were watching her? Were they inside her apartment right now? She didn’t have time for this.

She stuffed her phone in her bra and slid the window open wider. She swung the backpack off and let Rosie out. Rosie ran happily to the bedroom door, panting. Surely she would have noticed if there was a stranger in the house. But Claire wasn’t in the business of taking chances. She scuttled across the apartment to her purse, which hung next to the front door. She dug her Taser out and held it out in front of her.

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