Page 30 of Fortune's Control
I turned on the television for background noise and found a reality show of people performing dumb stunts for laughs. They weren’t funny.
My mind wandered, reliving our evening, as I searched for the missing clue. His attraction wasn’t my imagination, no matter how the evening ended. I gave him a peck on the cheek, but Shane said he wanted more. That wasn’t my imagination either.
“What did I do wrong?”
Was I too forward? I refused to believe that, and Shane didn’t strike me as someone who saw that as a negative.
The reality show didn’t help. I opened my laptop next and performed the same Internet search I had a hundred times before.
It was a stupid ritual that only increased my anxiety.
The latest news articles didn’t have any updates. It put Sandy Cooper’s face in the top left corner, like always. Every story I read used the same photo from a couple of years ago. The pixie haircut had since grown out, but she still wore the same glasses. A drop of blood covered one lens when I found her.
I dialed my phone, uncertain if Sarah Jane would answer on a Saturday night. My mother coveted her social life, and dealing with her daughter’s relationship problems would put a crimp in any plans.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Delilah? What’s going on? George is over right now.”
Her latest beau. Sarah Jane didn’t have boyfriends or significant others. Her life was a parade of beaus and gentleman callers. You could pin a shiny label on them if you wanted, but that didn’t change the relationship. “We haven’t spoken much since the night Sandy Wilson died. Can you talk?” The last word was a whisper. Strange.
“I thought they caught him. What was his name? Wilbur?”
“His name is Wilson Skane, and the police said they did. That’s also not why I’m calling.”
“Oh, thank goodness. Can you imagine a crazy killer on the loose? He’d be after you for certain. What’s wrong? Did you have another car accident? How’s the job search?”
“I haven’t found a new one.”
“You will soon, I’m sure. Honey, is there something important or not? George is pouring wine and asked me to go on a cruise tonight.” Her voice lowered, sounding like she put a hand over the receiver. “He bought me a gorgeous set of diamond earrings. You should see them. I think he mightbe the one.”
“He sounds charming. Mom, I met someone.” I could use some advice.
“Did he hurt you?”
Her genuine concern surprised me, although I wished she hadn’t gone straight to that assumption.
“Not exactly. His name is Shane, and I thought he was interested in me, but I was mistaken. What do you do when that happens?”
She hesitated. “I leave them first, always. Never, ever let them see you hurt. If you learn one thing, it’s to leave before that happens. Is this all you wanted? If so, George opened another bottle of wine, so I will let you go.” Sarah Jane hung up.
Why did people say they’ll let you go, like it’s a favor, when they’re the ones who wanted to hang up?
I tried Emma next, knowing her parents’ anniversary party was tonight.
“Do you ever think life would be better with an unlimited supply of chocolate pudding? Someone should get on this. Anyway, leave a message!” Emma’s high-pitched lilt at the end of her voicemail greetings always brought out a smile. Most people left a terse greeting or didn’t even bother setting one up. Emma constantly changed hers, based on her mood or some random incident that had occurred that day.
“It’s me. Call me tomorrow when you can. Shane kissed me, and then everything was awful and miserable. Now, I’m wearing pajamas and looking for a movie to cry over. Also, my mother thinks she’ll get married, and my grandmother probably doesn’t exist. Call me back. Hurry. Oh, also, I hope the party went well.”
Shane’s bedroom light stayed on. A figure moved, blocking the light seeping through the closed blinds before it stopped, planting itself on one side of the window.
“Hello, Shane. If you’re peeking out at me, please know I’m having a fabulous time watching a reality show and not thinking about you at all.”
The show’s closing credits came on.
I considered waving to acknowledge Shane’s existence, but decided against it. Our night went from perfect to horrible, and I wasn’t in the mood to give him a casual greeting. He could go on spying for all I cared.
I tilted my computer screen away from the window. I didn’t want to share it, even if Shane couldn’t see the contents without binoculars. He struck me as a man who kept binoculars close by, given his former military career and his need for control.
