Party Crashers by Stephanie Bond Page B

pulled at her with a promise of comfort. Once again she had the overwhelming urge to confide in this stranger. But as the seconds ticked by, the desire to spill her guts was overridden by the fear that Gary might still be watching her, might even be within hearing distance. “I’m fine,” she said, dragging a tissue from her purse. “I’m not feeling well, that’s all.” Now accustomed to the man seeing her at her worst, she blew her nose noisily.
    “Let me drive you home,” he said.
    “No.” She stuck the key into the ignition and turnedover the car engine. “I’ll be fine. I just need a good night’s sleep.”
    “I’ll follow you home,” he said.
    “ No ,” she said, more vehemently than she’d intended. What kind of mess was she that in the space of a minute she could find him suspicious, then trustworthy, then suspicious again?
    “Good night,” she said quietly, then buzzed up the window, displacing his hand.
    As she pulled away from the curb, she glanced in the side mirror and watched him standing with his hands on his hips, staring after her. He had to be thinking she was the most bizarre woman he’d ever met.
    Considering her current predicament, she would have to concur. In the past couple of days, she felt as if she’d entered the Twilight Zone. As she proceeded north on Peachtree Street, she scanned the sidewalks for any sign of Gary on foot, while keeping an eye on her rearview mirror for headlights. She wiped the corners of her eyes and exhaled heartily, then turned on the air conditioner full blast to dispel the faint smell of cigarettes and body odor Gary had left behind. How long had he been following her, waiting for her? She shivered, remembering the desperate edge to his voice.
    What had been in the envelope he’d sent her—money? Drugs? And was this “they” he was talking about intercepting her mail? If so, “they” had already made a connection between her and Gary. Who were “they”…friends of his? People who knew about the missing person’s report she’d filed? Police officers? Was that why Gary was afraid for her to go to the police, because they were involved somehow? Of course, the missing persons report was a matter of public record, for anyone to access.
    She shook her aching head, realizing she was buyinginto Gary’s thin explanation of a conspiracy. Because, despite evidence to the contrary, she wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. Because she needed to justify her decision to become involved with him? Otherwise, what kind of a woman would she be if she could be conned by a con man?
    Gullible? Or, in this case, criminal ?
    She reached for her purse and rummaged with one hand until she came up with her cell phone, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her thumb hovered over the number pad as she tried to decide whether to call Detective Salyers.
    But what information could she provide really—other than the fact that Gary was alive, which the police already suspected? He’d given her no names, no specifics at all, to support his contention that he was set up. Salyers would probably dismiss his ramblings as those of a strung-out fugitive, then have him hunted down. And maybe haul Jolie in for good measure.
    If he was guilty and she didn’t call Salyers, he would eventually be found and brought to justice. If he was innocent and she didn’t call Salyers, he might be able to gather more information in his defense before the police closed in.
    So in reality, there was nothing tangible to be gained from telling Salyers about Gary’s sudden reappearance. And if she implicated herself further, the police would pester her to no end. Gary’s warning to be careful rang in her ears…The police couldn’t help her there, either, other than to reiterate his warning…and maybe make things worse if “they” thought she was cooperating with the police.
    She glanced down at the phone, wavering. When shestopped at the next intersection, she punched in a number