Head Start (Cedar Tree #7) (5 page)

“Coming up.” I hear her footsteps retreating but keep my gaze on the glass in my hand.

“Relax.”

I hear the rumble of his voice at the same time his large, warm hand finds my jeans-clad knee and gives it a squeeze. The brief contact leaves his palm print burned on my skin.

“Work still busy?” I ask, trying to distract him, and myself.

“Nah,” he says, but there’s something about the tone of his voice that has me look up. He is staring straight ahead, and suddenly he looks much older with evidence of strain on his face. Without thinking, I put my hand on his arm. Big mistake. I feel the muscles of his forearm shifting under my hand as he clenches his fist on the counter.

“You okay?” I prod, watching him as he slowly turns his eyes to me.

“Promise you’ll be careful out there?”

The question catches me off-guard. Actually, it’s the intensity in his eyes that throws me. “Of course I’m careful. What’s going on?”

“Just...fuck.” Neil clasps his hands around the back of his neck. “I can’t talk about it, but please trust me when I say I need you to be careful.”

“I promise,” I say softly, a little unnerved. It doesn’t help when he covers the hand I still have resting on his arm with his.

“Can I ask you something? Don’t get mad. When I cleaned out your computer last week, I couldn’t help but notice you’d been on this dating site.”

Okay, that’s embarrassing. I’d figured he probably would have seen that, and I did my best to pretend otherwise. I try to pull my hand back, but he just folds his big fingers around it and holds on.

“Don’t. Don’t be upset, just listen. For the foreseeable future, please don’t plan to meet up with someone you met online. I can’t tell you more and it drives me fucking insane, but trust me when I say it’s important.”

My mouth opens to object, to tell him it’s no business of his who I date, but the serious look on his face shuts me up. For a second, I consider telling him about my coffee date tonight, but decide not to. I’ve done my due diligence on Lars and from what I can gather, he is everything he claims to be. A single forty-something-year-old teacher from Gallup, New Mexico. Besides, it’s just a coffee.

“Okay,” I lie, a little niggle of doubt messing with my stomach. Neil gives my hand a little squeeze before releasing it. Before either of us can say anything else, Arlene is back with two steaming plates of meatloaf and potatoes. Good country fare if not for the slightly exotic twist of spinach and goat cheese stuffing.

N
eil

A sight for sore eyes; the familiar shapely silhouette and signature ponytail sitting at the counter.

I’d just spent a stressful afternoon in the GFI office, reporting some of the things I’d discovered over the past day or two.

Cora Jenning’s e-mails showed her conversations with a man she’d originally met through an online personal ad, by the name of Alan Cymars. There was no mention of a specific website, just some reference to the descriptions in the ad early on in their e-mail exchange. Two months of e-mails before Alan had sent her his phone number to call. No e-mails after that which would support that she, in fact, contacted him by phone after. Gomez promises to check her phone records for his number.

Sitting with Gus and Katie in the conference room, and Gomez on speakerphone, we outlined our findings to him. Katie was also able to tell him that the number Alan Cymars had listed in his e-mail had since been disconnected. Another red flag. In his e-mails, this guy had been the one to ask the questions, but said little about himself, other than that he worked for a bank in Farmington and his hobby was hiking. From what Damian told us, a colleague of

Cora’s had voiced some concerns when she’d mentioned meeting this guy. Apparently, the night she disappeared had been her second time meeting him. The first time had been for coffee, but the night of her disappearance, they were supposed to go out for a hike and dinner. Alan Cymars’s name was at the top of the list. Except there’s been no trace of him. He doesn’t exist, therefore there is no way to connect him with the other possible victims.

It’s not until I sit down beside her at the counter, that I think about  the website link I’d discovered on Kendra’s computer and a niggle of worry takes form. Stroke of luck, I decided to stop in for a quick bite before retreating to my apartment upstairs and the stack of files waiting for my attention. I’m well aware that lives are at stake. Still, I’m unable to resist the draw of the woman who has been the main focus of my fantasies.

I can’t help teasing her a little when I sit down. Seeing her reaction each time I push her a little out of her comfort zone gives me hope that one of these days, she’ll forget to slam the door in my face. Again. I take the liberty of touching her leg when I notice her tensing up beside me. I don’t want her tense. I want her at ease with me. But then she turns those gray eyes on me, and the concern I see there when she asks me about work brings my worries back to the forefront. Her embarrassment is obvious when I voice my concerns about the dating site I found on her computer, and I’m frustrated as fuck that I can’t explain to her why. But her promise to be careful puts my mind at ease. I don’t have the right to ask more of her. Not yet anyway.

Seb’s special is amazing, as usual. I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal here I didn’t like. Kendra and I eat in silence, except for the little sounds of appreciation she makes with every bite of her dinner. Torture. Her little moans are like nails scraping down my spine and I have to shift around my seat to get comfortable. When she puts down her fork, wipes her mouth and groans deeply with her hands rubbing her stomach, I push my stool back. I’m this close to throwing caution to the wind, yanking her off her stool and kissing the breath out of her until she moans like that for me.

“Be right back,” I mumble as I walk, a bit uncomfortably, to the men’s room. By the time I’ve done my business, wash my hands and splash some cold water on my face, I walk out to find the counter empty. Fucking hell. My head whips around, just in time to see her take off in her green Toyota RAV4. She took off on me.

Arlene stands by the cash with a big smirk on her face. “She had to go. Had some last boxes to pack before she had to meet someone for coffee. Paid for your meal, though. Says to consider it payment for your help with her move tomorrow.”

My jaw clenches. My mind gets stuck on her meeting someone for coffee. Could be anyone, I guess. A friend, a neighbor...but for some reason, I don’t think so.

“Did you hear what I said?” Arlene nudges my shoulder as I lean on the counter, staring out at the now vacant parking spot outside.

“Sorry?” I turn to face her.

“I said you might wanna gear it up a notch before it’s too late. Going for coffee sounds like a first step.” Her eyebrow is raised to her hairline.

“Did she say who with?” I lean over the counter.

“Nah, but there was something about the way she said it. Dang, that girl is proving to be a tougher nut to crack than Beth was.” Her knowing eyes smile at me. “Good thing we’ve all got your back on this.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” is my futile response. Because I know by now that everyone sees the situation much clearer than either Kendra or I do.

A bit disappointed, but even more determined to make good use of my time with her tomorrow, I push off from the counter and head out the door. Arlene’s cackle following me all the way outside.

K
endra

I should probably be nervous, but if I’m honest, the anxiety over tomorrow’s move overshadows anything else I might feel. Particularly, meeting this man I’ve been talking to for months. He seems like the perfect guy for me. The right age, a respectable job, many similar interests, not the least of which is hiking.

The moment I pull the door open to the Espresso House, the mouth-watering scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts out. I know I’ll have to go with a decaf, or I’ll be up all night, but they make it so good here, you don’t even notice the difference. I lift my hand in greeting to one of the baristas I’ve become friendly with since discovering the place, and let my eyes roam around. I know it’s him the moment my eyes settle on the tall, rather lanky but undoubtedly handsome man. Dark hair neatly trimmed, pale eyes behind the studious glasses and a tentative lop-sided smile as he looks at me. I smile in response as I walk over. He pushes up from the chair and rounds the table, stumbling over a backpack by his feet before righting himself.

“Hi, Kendra?” His voice is soft. Softer than it sounded on the phone. I reach out and grab his proffered hand.

“Hi. Yes, and you must be Lars.”

“Right. Nice to finally meet you face to face.” The smile he shows me seems a little uncertain. In fact, he seems a little awkward. Maybe nerves, or maybe he’s just shy. “Can I get you something?” he asks as he pulls out a chair for me.

“Please. I’d love a decaf café latte.” I sit down and watch as Lars makes his way over to the counter, placing our order, but I quickly turn my head when he walks back my way.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted something to eat. Hope you don’t mind, I ordered us a slice of pecan pie. It’s my favorite.”

I look up to find him staring down at me, a little too intense, so I lean back in my chair to create a bit more distance. This whole situation may well be a waste of time. I can already tell there is no real connection and I don’t feel any kind of spark.  Besides, there is something about the way he seems to scrutinize me that feels a bit uncomfortable. In fact, I regret not canceling the way I’ve wanted to do in the last few hours. Lars is a very handsome man, but he seems a little socially inept which doesn’t give me good vibes. In fact, he puts me on edge a little.

I rummage through my tote and pull out the stack of trail maps I managed to find earlier. “I promised you Mesa Verde maps,” I explain when I see the blank look on his face. Instantly, his face warms with a smile.

“Right. Yes, you did mention that. Wonderful, can I have a look?” He immediately starts unfolding the first map, spreading it out over the table.

For the next twenty minutes, we talk about the best trails, favorite places we’ve been, and spots we hope to visit in the future. I spend some time boasting the beauty of Mesa Verde, a place I’ve enjoyed since I was young, and Lars seems quite interested. By the time we finish our coffees and the pie, I’ve almost forgotten the uncomfortable start. I fold up the maps we’ve been looking at and hand them over to him.

“Here, you take them. I can always pick up new ones.”

He looks at me strangely before accepting them and examining the covers. “These are older. Had them for a while?” he asks, tapping his finger on the date stamped in the corner.

“I have, some of them I’ve had since I was a teen. Like I said, I’ll pick up some new ones next time I go. It’s not an issue.” At least I hope it’s not. Lord, he’s a strange duck. Suddenly that slightly creepy feeling is back.

“No. Not an issue, I just thought...” He doesn’t finish his thought, and I know I should let it go but I can’t help myself.

“What?” I prompt.

His eyes flick up to my face as he pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Oh, I was hoping we’d be able to hike these trails together. I’ll be back on Monday. I can leave Grand Junction early and be back here in the morning. We could pack a lunch or something?”

Oh boy. What now? One look at his face tells me this is not going to be easy.

“Look,” I start and immediately his expression changes. His eyes go hard and his mouth sets in a stark line. He knows what’s coming. “I really have enjoyed talking to you and hope the maps will bring you as much enjoyment as they’ve brought me over the years, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I’m moving this we—”

“You’re moving?” He cuts me off mid-sentence and suddenly I’m so relieved I never told him about my place in Cedar Tree. I don’t think I made mention of the clinic there either. At least I hope I didn’t.

Grabbing my bag in one hand, I stand up from my chair. “Actually I am.”

“Where to?” he inquires, standing up as well and towering over me.

“Right. I’d better head out. I have packing to do. Good to meet you and again. I hope you enjoy Mesa Verde.” Before he has a chance to react, I turn on my heels and beeline it out the door. By the time I get to my car, my keys are already in my hand, and only when I’m inside with the doors firmly locked do I allow myself a deep breath.