interferences, she might try to wrestle the whole damn case from him.
“Um…we’ll park adjacent to the beach. That shouldn’t cause a problem. After you finish your lunch just head back to the car. I’ll be…”
“Yes, I know. Twenty to twenty-five feet behind me.” She rolled her eyes.
After they entered the car and he raised the garage door, he headed for the Great Highway. When they reached the Beach Chalet, he swung off the thoroughfare and trolled for a parking place. He found one facing the ocean, which gave them approximately a four to five-minute walk to the restaurant. The wind had subsided, and the sun had gained enough strength to poke through the wispy clouds floating beneath an azure blue sky. A thin layer of sand dusted the walkway; a hint of salt-freshened the air. He appreciated the fine weather as much as he’d once enjoyed the Beach Chalet’s famous home-brewed ale. Alcohol was off limits now, since he was on duty.
The moment he shut down the motor, she pushed her way out of the car, picked up her gift then walked away at a pretty fast clip. He grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment, shoved them on his face and followed behind at the promised twenty plus feet. He kept his eyes on her legs and tried not to think beyond the next couple hours.
Chapter Eight
When Allie arrived at the Beach Chalet, the usual lunchtime crowd packed the restaurant. One of only two dining spots with a full-on view of the ocean, the restaurant currently enjoyed a renaissance after having fallen into disrepair years before.
Allie had started the morning in a celebratory mood. Now, without warning, something within her shifted toward a darker emotion, and a sudden overwhelming sense of vulnerability gripped her. Her heart thumped noticeably inside her chest. The only reason she could find to explain her apprehension was being outside the safety of her house. Not for the first time, the deadly realization that she was the target of a serial killer hit her full-on. Was Dave still miles away? Or had the gap narrowed, further elevating her danger level?
She stepped through the doorway and scanned the room. Her friends occupied a corner table abutting one of the expansive windows and offered both some privacy and a lower noise level. A silver Happy Birthday balloon floated above a quartet of smaller pink-and-red ones tied to the back of Jen’s chair.
Although she faced a room overflowing with diners, and with Sutter somewhere close behind, she felt very much alone and at risk.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to banish her disquieting thoughts. The birthday lunch was a rare, welcomed break. The week ahead promised long hours accompanied by the usual stress she often experienced when meeting a deadline. Then there was the nightmare possibility of another phone call from Dave. The cops were certain he’d get in touch with her again. This lunch posed her best chance to relax, if only for a couple hours.
Once her heart returned to its normal rhythm, she headed for the table, maneuvering past waiters who threaded through the crowd, balancing food and drink-laden trays. The subtle aroma of grilled seafood and charbroiled burgers wafted on the air. A pleasant vibe spread within the multi-windowed room. Across the Great Highway, waves slapped gently onto the beach.
Allie gave each of her friends a hug, before settling into the empty seat beside Michaela. She placed her gift on the table along with the others. A square box tied with string held the birthday cake Sarah had baked—three chocolate-frosted layers with raspberry filling and decorated with white roses—her specialty. Allie set her wristlet on her lap. She sat across from Sarah, the only one of the four who possessed blonde hair and blue eyes. Best friends since grade school, they sometimes referred to Sarah as “the foundling.”
Michaela, a personal trainer, wore her hair in a French braid. That along with casual jeans