My sneakers splashed through patches of dappled sunlight, the crisscrossed shadows climbing up my bare legs as I walked. Someone had a magnifying glass over the Earth today. The sun was baking everything it touched to a crisp, including me. Sweat dribbled down my back, soaking into my tank top. Strands of hair clung to my face and neck, but as hot as I should have been, inside I was freezing, the chill from my nightmare turning my marrow to ice. No matter how hard I tried, how many different ways I attempted to distract myself, I couldn’t shake it.
I crossed my arms over my chest while I meandered through Central Park. I’d entered the park on the wrong side, taking a circuitous route to our meeting spot, pausing every few minutes to make sure I wasn’t being tailed.
Stooping to retie my shoelace, I glanced up and casually took inventory. A jogger hustled passed, a couple walking their dogs strolled by in the opposite direction, and the old man I’d passed several yards back was still safely ensconced on his bench doing the weekend crossword.
Standing, I brushed my hands over my shorts and walked the last fifty feet to the bench my father was sitting on. He had one end, I sat on the other. Neither of us immediately acknowledged the other.
He held a newspaper in front of him, his gaze hidden behind his sunglasses. “Any trouble getting here?”
“No.” I riffled through the bag I’d brought with me, unearthing my sketchbook and a pencil. Without thought I started to transfer an image to the page, letting my mind stay on full alert. The base of a tree appeared, the branches spreading toward the top of the page. “Is something going on? We weren’t supposed to meet again until next week.”
Which was one of the reasons I’d even considered going to the Hamptons with Gavin. God, Gavin. I tried not to cringe. My stomach curled in on itself as I relived the early hours of this morning. The things he’d seen . . . not only was the embarrassment unbearable, but I knew without question he’d never be able to let what happened go. He’d want answers, and who wouldn’t? But the answers lay deep and buried. Unearthing them and sharing them meant I’d be giving him another piece of the puzzle. Too many more pieces and he’d be able to put them all together. And that wasn’t an option.
Besides, if just the flash of a memory had completely unraveled me and brought back a nightmare I’d managed not to relieve for years, I could only imagine what opening the door to that vault would actually do.
All that didn’t even take into consideration that I’d abandoned him without a word.
Again.
“Dani.” Dad’s voice was harsh, annoyed. “Are you listening to me?”
I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “Sorry. It was a long night.”
He didn’t say anything; he just let the silence stretch between us. It was a technique he was a master at, one he’d taught me as well—nothing made people more uncomfortable than an awkward slice of silence. And when people were uneasy with the quiet, they liked to fill it.
I tipped my head back. Overhead the tree branches hung limply, not a breath of breeze to stir them. “The nightmare came back.” The statement didn’t need any more elaboration than that. He’d experienced firsthand the repercussions from that particular dream—the cold sweats, the screams that could wake the dead, the tight ball I’d curl myself into, completely unable to move.
He grunted. “Visiting the past likely stirred it up.”
He meant the city, of course, but it didn’t make it any less true.
A sigh rushed through his lips as he scratched his fingers over the stubble coating his cheeks. “Maybe it’s time we say goodbye to New York.”
For a second my entire façade slipped and I nearly dropped my pencil. It took every ounce of effort I had to keep from looking at him. “What? Just because of a nightmare?”
“Because of this.” Without diverting his attention from his newspaper, he gently placed a photograph down between us.
My heart jerked like it’d been electrocuted as my fingers closed over the edge of the picture. I knew without even looking what it was. He’d found out about Gavin. He knew I lied to him. He—
I finally focused on the picture and my racing thoughts screeched to a halt.
My forehead crinkled, my frown deepening. The picture was a little grainy, like someone’d taken a quick snap with their cell phone. A man in jeans and a polo glanced back over his shoulder. Judging by the windows at his side it was easy to peg him as tall. Hair dark, nose long and pointed, jaw wide.
The newspaper crinkled as he flipped the page and shook it out. “You seen him around?”
“Never.” I set the photo back on the bench. “Who is he?”
“A nuisance. He’s popped up a bit too frequently for my liking.”
“You think he’s tailing you?”
“There’s nothing to suggest it’s anything more than a coincidence.” The picture disappeared back behind the paper. “Yet.”
My pencil scratched across the page, hard enough it left an indent in the paper. “You don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Neither do you.” Finally, his gaze met mine, almost like he was trying to make a point. “I’ll let you make the call. Do we leave or let it play out a little longer?”
“You want me to decide?” I nearly dropped my entire sketchbook right on the ground. My opinion was always considered, my voice always heard, but never, ever, had he put the full weight of the decision on me.
His answer was a heavy dose of silence that made me squirm.
Slowly, I let the anxiety flow out from me as I went back to my drawing. It was already ruined by the inconsistent line weights—the delicate tracery of the bark too dark, the leaves a garbled mess of line thicknesses—but even if it was garbage it still helped ground me. Think, Dani.
I blew out a breath. I’d been on the receiving end of this conversation so many times, surely I could take the lead. “Do you think your apartment’s been compromised?”
He lifted his foot to rest it on his opposite knee. “The apartment’s clean.”
“Work, then?”
A nod. “We’ve crossed paths several times en route.”
I ran my tongue out over my lip. “The risk seems low. Is it possible you’re both just heading in the same direction?”
The corners of his mouth tightened. “Anything’s possible, Doodle.”
Internally, my heart was doing its best to make an argument for staying. We’d barely been here a month, and the thought of leaving made my throat close up tight. As much as I wanted to take in the Gavin factor, add it to the equation, I absolutely couldn’t. There couldn’t be a hint of him in my decision-making process.
I grit my teeth together. Ignoring that aspect, the risk really did seem fairly negligible. If this man, whoever he was, wasn’t trailing him to work or loitering outside his apartment, maybe they really were just headed in the same direction. Two parallel lines that never really intersected.
I watched two guys carrying a football walk by, waiting until they were out of earshot to say, “I want you to take a different route to work. See if he’s still showing up on your radar. If he is . . .” I hesitated, not wanting to say the words I knew were necessary. “If he is, send the message and we’ll put this place behind us.” To mask the ache, I tried to inject some humor. “You remember what it is, right?”
A smile flashed across his mouth, a momentary burst of amusement. “You do a half good impersonation of your old man, Doodle.” He stood, stretched. “You’re still protecting yourself?” A glance toward my bag.
I tilted the top slightly toward him, just enough for a flash of cool metal to peek through. “Assuming there aren’t any further complications, we’ll meet again two weeks from today. The first spot.”
He folded the newspaper, tucking it underneath his arm.
I stood, offering him my back while I packed up my sketchbook. “So, did I pass the test?”
Even though I couldn’t see him, I heard his sigh. “It wasn’t a test, but it’s beyond time I start really preparing you for a certain eventuality.”
Unease drifted over me. “And what eventuality is that?”
“One day, Doodle, I’m not going to be around anymore.” His hand landed on my shoulder, warm and comforting while his words were the exact opposite. “More than anything I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
I lifted my hand to cover his, to prolong that rare moment of affection, but by the time I’d managed it my fingers met nothing but the echo of his. My throat felt tight and warmth pricked my eyes. By the time I finally managed to swallow past the lump clogging it and turn around, he was gone like he’d never even been there in the first place.