Page 79 of Shadows of Justice

“Wait!” I scream, the noise of traffic drowning out my voice.

I take off after him, narrowly avoiding a left-turning Mazda, and grab him by the shoulders from behind. He turns, stunned, removing an AirPod from his ear with a look of shock on his face.

“What the hell, lady?”

“The return address,” I say, gasping for air. “I need it.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he asks, some of his customer service returning, but still eyeing me like the crazy woman I am.

He types some things into the iPad and clicks and clicks, moving maddeningly slow. I tap my bare foot against the pavement—yuck—and try to not peer over his shoulder like I want to. He finally shakes his head and shrugs.

“Sorry, Ms. Schaeffer, but the sender paid to remain anonymous. I can’t disclose that information.” My face falls.

“I don’t care, Marcus. I need to know that address.”

“I understand your frustration, ma’am, but at NatureHaven, our customers trust us with their security, and we don’t ever do anything to break that trust.”

I resist rolling my eyes. Leave it to me to get the fucking Boy Scout deliveryman.

I bite the inside of my cheek, tasting blood. Just one last time—and then I’ll play by every rule that life and my career and even sweet baby Jesus throws at me. Cross my heart.

I set my face in a pleasant smile, and take the badge out of my back pocket.

“It’s Special Agent Schaeffer,” I say. “I can assure you, Marcus, the security of that address will be safe with me.”

Chapter Twenty-Six - The Storm

Sunday, August 23rd

The only thing more unbelievable than actually being on my way to Leo’s undisclosed house, is that it’s raining.

In August.

It never rains in August. But, I bet Leo never has women he’s slept with show up unannounced on the doorstep of his top secret house on Sunday nights either.

Apparently, Doughnut doesn’t like lightning and thunder, and he’s letting me know that by howling like a dying animal every time it lights up the sky. The answering rumbles shake my Camry, the rain pelting the car in torrents.

I could have left him at home, but I didn’t know how this was going to play out and he’s kind of become my security blanket—as embarrassing as that sounds.

I double-check I have the right address, and pull into the long driveway. The frothing waves of the coast crash to my left, and a gorgeous stretch of maintained landscape spreads out on my right. The house is nice, but not over-the-top or showy—a two-story colonial farmhouse nestled in a large valley, trees and manicured greenery all around. There are lights on inside, and they pull me forward like a beacon. I park in front of the house, my windshield wipers dashing back and forth across the windshield as they try to keep up with the raging storm.

I try not to get my hopes up, but that’s easier said than done.

I really don’t know what I’m expecting at all, actually, but I just need to do this.

I grab Doughnut’s face and smoosh it, wrinkling all of his features together like a bowl of squish. I kiss him hard on the nose and tell him that I’ll be right back.

Then, I check my appearance in the mirror, looking into the face of someone that I have had to get to know again—and then again—over the past few weeks.

I hop out and dart into the storm, gunning it for the front porch as a crack of lightning streaks across the sky.

At least it’s not cold rain.

I’m drenched, my sandals sticking to the bottom of my feet, hair hanging around my face. None of it matters, though, if who I believe is behind that door is really behind that door.

I take a measured breath . . . and knock.

Nothing happens, but I note that the rain is very loud. So, I knock again, after an appropriate amount of time.

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