Page 18 of The Secrets We Share

“She’s beautiful.” A voice startles me from my crouched position. I stand, gripping my cell and patting my thigh where I know my knife is tucked safely away.

“Yeah, she is. Thanks,” I reply and shift, putting Cinder between me and the man trying to make small talk.

“So, are you new to the area? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here, and I’m here daily for this.” He holds a pale green drink you couldn’t pay me to try.

“Yeah, we’re just getting settled. Haven’t had much time to explore yet,” I share, hoping he’ll take the hint that it isn’t just me.

He doesn’t look threatening. He has no tattoos or gun bulges, which I would definitely be able to see in the tight athletic wear he’s sporting. Your typical suburban middle-aged man, who probably has a wife and a couple of kids at home but is ready to hit on anyone who catches his attention.

“Hadley,” the barista calls, giving me an out.

I excuse myself and walk to the window, grab my coffee, and head for the exit path. He doesn’t seem to take that as an end to our conversation.

“Hadley, is it?” He looks me up and down, blatantly checking me out, and I don’t hide the disgusted look from taking over my face.

I glance at his left hand, and right there for everyone to see is the wedding ring I expected. He steps in my path, and Cinder growls, standing between us. I don’t chastise her behavior; she can read the situation.

His self-preservation kicks in as he steps back. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Keith. If you’re ever looking for a running partner, I’m over on Sitka Drive.” He holds his hand out, but I let it hang in the air between us.

Maybe I’m used to the city where people mind their own fucking business and let you move along your day without interrupting it, but apparently that isn’t the mindset here. I know we need to blend in, but a city girl can only fake it so much.

“Thanks, but I usually run with my partner. He’s just busy this morning.” I make to move past him again, and this time, he lets me.

“See you around, Hadley,” he calls after me, and I send a prayer to the universe to not let that happen.

Cinder and I walk back toward the house, but I decide to take a detour to the place James and Stacey are renting. Logically, I know the coffee shop incident is nothing more than an overly friendly and flirtatious neighbor, but I’m not trying to lead Keith back to our place, just in case.

Knocking on their front door, I sip the last bit of iced coffee from my cup and wait for an answer. James pulls back the door and looks at me, surprised.

“What are you doing? You didn’t tell me you were on your way over. And where did you get that? Did you go out?”

“Woah, there, buddy. One question at a time.” I laugh and walk into their place. “Where’s Stace?”

He joins me in the kitchen and gives me an incredulous look, telling me all I need to know about my bestie’s whereabouts. That girl’s still tucked in bed, snoring, no doubt.

“Why didn’t you text you were coming over? I would have come picked you up.”

“I was bored and wanted to get out of the house. A coffee sounded good, so I stopped there first. But—” I let my sentence drop off, more so to annoy him than anything else. James seems to have the patience of a saint, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find joy in trying to push him over the edge whenever I have the chance.

“But, what?”

“I think we might need to look into someone here in town. It’s probably nothing, but to be safe, you know?” I shrug and go to their fridge, looking for a bottle of water.

“Help yourself,” he says with fake annoyance as I pull it out with a cup of yogurt. “So, who is this person you think we need to check out? What happened while you were out?”

“His name’s Keith. He lives on Sitka Drive. I’m pretty sure he’s just your typical piece of shit husband. Oh, and we should probably not tell Harkin he was hitting on me.”

“I’m not telling him shit about that. The last thing we need while we’re laying low here is a murderous Harkin on the loose because you couldn’t stay out of the public eye for a few days.”

“It’s fine, James. He wouldn’t—No, you’re right.” I let out a little laugh. “So, you think you can find this guy?”

“You wound me. Shit, with everything Harkin told me he taught you, I’m surprised you can’t do it yourself.”

“I could. But I figured someone else should know in case I go missing again.”

“Jesus, help me,” he pleads and pops open his computer on the counter.

“I don’t think we have any sway with him,” I joke, trying to pull a smile from him. It doesn’t work. He ignores me while tapping away at the keys.

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