Page 32 of Nicole's Shelter

“Sure.” Rick started the car, but didn’t put it into gear. “I’d like to get that picture of Roberts by the fountain to my boss as well.”

“Of course,” she said with a nod, biting back the plea to get them out of here. “Want me to drive?”

“I want you to tell me what happened.”

How did he know anything had happened?

“Don’t be coy,” he pressed when she didn’t answer. “Is there a threat out there?” He jerked a thumb at the street.

“No. Maybe?” She took a deep breath. “The marshals assigned to me were walking by. I’m sure they’re just trying to track me down.”

“I’m sure.” He put the car in reverse and backed out of the space. “They probably won’t recognize you.”

“It took me a second, but I remembered that when we were in the bank.”

“You tensed up, but I don’t think the security chief noticed.”

She laughed at herself. “I nearly tapped your shoulder but thought that would look more suspicious than waiting it out.”

He pulled out into the bright daylight and joined the rest of rush hour traffic. The clear morning underscored her decision to make a fresh start. When the bank was a few blocks behind them, she removed the ball cap.

“Not quite yet,” Rick said.

She tugged the hat back in place, then swiveled in her seat, wondering who was following them. “What’s wrong? Who is it?”

“It would be nice if you’d tell me.” He raised a hand when she started to protest. “Before we get to that, we’re going by the apartment building.”

“Why?”

“I want to look around.”

She hunched down into the seat, her bravado and confidence fading away. “I thought you planned to get the preliminary report some other way.”

“I do. But if your marshals are hanging around your office we should be all clear to do a walk-through there.”

It was pointless to argue. She’d learned when Rick dug in, he was immovable. “What about the kid with the knife?”

“You know of any reason he’d be after my trainee?”

“Funny.”

“No one knows, but my real dream is to be a comedian.”

“Spare me.”

“The only way to get out of my admittedly terrible amateur routine is to tell me about this guy you think has found you.”

She clenched her teeth and clamped her lips together. The urge to spill it all—the good, the bad, and the gory—was unbelievably strong. She didn’t know this man. Only his actions, that little voice deep inside her mind whispered. It sounded remarkably like her mother: kind, direct, and true as a compass.

He’d been helpful and steady, if a bit unorthodox at times. Without him, she might have walked into a trap at the train station. Her picture was out there and she didn’t know how wide a net had been cast. Without Rick, the marshals might have reeled her in already. The idea made her stomach churn.

“Why are you so well known at that cemetery?”

“Even trade, is that it?” He shifted in the seat, obviously uncomfortable. She was sure he’d make some excuse, but instead he said, “My wife is buried there.”

“You’re a widower?” She slapped a hand to her mouth, wishing she could take it back. Could she be any more insensitive? “Sorry.”

“No apology necessary from you.” He rolled his shoulders. “Your turn.”

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