Disconnecting, he set the phone to both vibrate and ring. Don’t panic. She sounded okay.
He wasn’t panicked. He was just concerned. He wouldn’t relax until he knew what had put that note of fear in Sam’s voice.
Alec suddenly felt completely cut off. The elevator hadn’t returned-the crime scene technician, still smarting from missing the candle wax, was probably going over every millimeter of it. He was stuck hundreds of feet in the air when what he wanted was to drive straight to that restaurant, wherever it was, and see what had frightened Sam.
He dialed Lily again.
“Hey, I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker. I called about setting up the meeting with Flynt, but I need more than ten minutes to get a response.”
“It’s not that. Are you at your desk?”
“Of course.”
“Do something for me, would you? Pull up Samantha Dalton’s Web page.”
“I checked it forty minutes ago. He hadn’t posted.”
“Humor me.”
This time, the clicking was more audible, since he was more sheltered from the wind. And he easily heard her when Fletcher murmured, “That’s new.”
“What?” he snapped. “Is it Darwin?”
“No, no. I guess Ms. Dalton has some kind of inside joke with her regulars or something. She put a new blog post up. Kind of unusual, too.”
Alec’s heart pounded. Sam had not done any such thing. “What does it say?”
“Just five words, in big, bold print. They take up the whole screen.”
“Read them to me,” he ordered.
“It’s not threatening or anything.”
He gritted his teeth. “Lily?”
Apologizing, she did as he asked. “It says, ‘What was in the box?’ ”
11
Trying to maintain a smile and a normal conversation, despite the nervousness rising higher with each passing minute, wasn’t the easiest thing Sam had ever done. Somehow, though, she pulled it off. With her shaking hands clasped together on the table, a steady supply of water in her dry mouth, and constant chatter from her mother and Tricia to cover up her silence, she honestly thought she conveyed an I’m-perfectly-fine attitude.
Not an I’m-freaking-out one.
She hadn’t freaked out at first. In fact, when she’d first logged on this morning, she’d been so relieved to find Darwin still had not responded to her blog post, she’d been almost complacent. A quick check of e-mail and of her site right before she walked out the door an hour later had been simply a matter of habit. So it hadn’t sunk in at first.
Oh, she’d noticed the fake blog post immediately, but, as she’d said in her message to Alec, it wasn’t the first time. It hadn’t happened often; usually the content management software she used for blogging was good enough to prevent such attacks. But spammers loved to target sites like hers, if only to show they could “get” the Spaminator.
Today’s annoyance, therefore, hadn’t been unusual enough to inspire panic. Already running late, she had figured she’d handle it when she got home from lunch.
The panic had come a few minutes later. Not wanting to deal with parking, she’d grabbed a cab, and while sitting in the backseat, idly staring at passing cars, she’d finally allowed herself to really think about the words that had filled the screen.
What was in the box?
Her heart had nearly stopped, though she’d called herself a fool. It was pure coincidence that someone would post such a thing less than twelve hours after Alec carried the boxed computer up to her place.
But what if it wasn’t?
Jesus. What if it wasn’t?
“Hello, Earth to Sam!”
She jerked when Tricia waved a heavily ringed, spangle-braceleted hand in front of her face. Tricia Scott wasn’t a typical real estate agent. No conservative blazers or Lincoln Continentals for her. The attractive red-head wore silky pantsuits in jungle patterns and drove a monster SUV when showing her clients around the city. She’d managed to survive the downturn in the market through sheer personality and verve. Sam had stayed with Tricia for a short time after she’d walked out on her marriage and credited her friend with keeping her sane.
“Sorry. Just deep in thought.”
“Well, stop it,” her mother scolded. “You look so serious. You’ll get frown lines.”
“You don’t have any, Mrs. H.” Tricia’s smile was far too ingratiating. Her next words showed why. “Who’s your plastic surgeon?”
Beside her, Uncle Nate, who had hovered in the background, quiet and content to be surrounded by chatty women, coughed into his napkin to hide a laugh. Love Sam’s mother he might, but he also saw Christine Harrington for what she was: a somewhat vain, overly romantic woman who longed to be taken care of and kept herself in tip-top shape as she watched for the next prospect to do exactly that. That she had never even considered him as a prospect had to have hurt him, though he’d never said a word.
Her mother had sparred with Tricia for too many years to be surprised by the jab. She smirked. “I’ll get you his number; I can see you already need it.”
Tricia snorted a good-humored laugh. The two women had a lot in common. Though they would never admit it, they also liked each other.
“Do you have any special plans for your birthday tomorrow, Samantha?” Nate asked.
Staying alive would be good. Avoiding a certain psycho who might have been watching her last night? Good also.
“Not really,” she murmured. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your standing offer to come up to the sportsmen’s club and learn how to shoot.”
He appeared pleased. “You know I’ll teach you anytime you want.” He leaned over and patted her shoulder, studying her closely. “A girl can’t be too careful nowadays.”
“Neither can a judge,” she said with a pointed stare.
“Touché,” he replied, his slight smile acknowledging that he had a gun somewhere on his person at all times.
Tricia had overheard.“I should learn, too. You wouldn’t believe some of the sleazeballs in my business. A few weeks ago, I did an open house for one of my listings, and this couple came in, but then disappeared. I went looking and found them in the master bedroom closet, going at it right on a pile of the owner’s dirty clothes.”
Sam’s mother wrinkled her nose.“Imagine that. I’d have to throw everything away and buy a new wardrobe.”
“Disgusting, yeah. But as disgusting as being the one to lie naked on somebody else’s dirty underwear to have sex? Talk about doing the nasty,” Tricia said.
Sam honestly didn’t know which was worse: coming home to find your dirty clothes all sexed on, or going at it with someone on a pile of dirty clothes belonging to a stranger. Either way: ick. Yet somehow, she found herself smiling at the conversation, rather than cringing. Because after the week she’d had, it was nice to watch her best friend try to scandalize her mother, and the older woman take it in good grace, their typical song and dance.
Falling silent, Sam sat back and listened to the others converse. It was more than nice; in fact, being here was pretty wonderful. Watching the verbal sparring, seeing the reactions. It was all so normal. Which felt better to her right now than any wild, dangerous adventure ever could.
She wanted to let them know that, to thank them for coming and admit she might actually have reached a personal milestone and would hopefully be returning to some kind of normal life.
Before she could say a word, though, a male voice intruded. “Sorry I’m late.” Sitting in the empty chair beside her, he smiled pleasantly at everyone, particularly Sam. “Happy birthday.”
She gawked. “Rick? What on earth are you doing here?”
His brow went up in confusion. Sam cast a quick glance across the table and saw the excitement sparkling in her mother’s eyes.