Free I Think I Love You by Stephanie Bond Page B

car and snatch the garage door opener.
    A knock on her window startled her so badly, her hand was halfway to the concealed gun before she realized it was a reporter. She slammed the car into reverse and backed onto the street, scattering onlookers. As she exited the upper-class neighborhood, she called the police department and asked for Lando. After an eternity, the phone clicked.
    "Lando here."
    "This is Justine Metcalf. I just arrived home and realized my garage door opener is missing from my car."
    "You think Lisa Crane took it?"
    "Yes. We have gated security to keep out cars, but she could walk into the neighborhood and get into my house with the garage door opener—I don't lock the door leading in from the garage."
    "What about that state-of-the-art security system?"
    She sighed. "I didn't set it this morning."
    "Ah. Walker and I'll come to check out the house. Will you be there?"
    "No, I'm going to a hotel. Then I think I'll head to my parents' for a few days."
    "Where's that?"
    "Monroeville, North Carolina." She gave him her cell phone number and directions to override the garage door opener.
    "I'll let you know what we find."
    She disconnected the call with shaking hands, then drove away from her neighborhood, east toward the coast. Dusk was falling; tiny bugs collected on her windshield. The decision to visit her folks had been spontaneous, but somehow it felt right. A few do-nothing days to hide out and make her parents happy at the same time—Cissy was always badgering her about coming to visit. Alone. She'd drive down tomorrow and surprise them, like a good daughter. Get some sun. Fresh air. Besides, Lisa Crane would never find her in Monroeville.
    The day's events descended on her and she relived the humiliating incident in the staff meeting in excruciating detail. For years they'd be talking around the watercooler about Justine Metcalf, Miss Unshakable, lifting her skirt at gunpoint. She ground her teeth at the thought of people laughing at her behind her back—she simply had to return to Cocoon and redeem herself, redeem her reputation. Helplessness and rage took hold of her—damn Lisa Crane for destroying her life.
    As her anger escalated, so did the need for release. Her throat constricted and her mouth watered for the bitter taste for which she'd acquired an affinity. She wiped her stinging eyes and tried to concentrate on the road. First things first—find a grocery store. A few minutes later, she pulled into a parking lot and gathered herself enough to go in.
    "May I help you?" a smocked young woman asked.
    "Spices?"
    "Aisle Seven."
    "And tea?"
    "Aisle Eight."
    She found the tea first and selected bags for a lemon variety. By the time she reached the spice aisle, she was sweating profusely. She scanned the racks and experienced a rush of relief at the plentiful supply of nutmeg—as if sometime since her last purchase, everyone else in the country had discovered her secret. The store carried her favorite brand and, thinking ahead to her trip to North Carolina, she selected two tins.
    To cast off any suspicion at the checkout counter, she selected a box of sugar cubes and, while she waited in the express line, a pack of gum. The checker gave her a curious glance, but Justine realized that she probably looked like hell and wondered if there was a chance that her picture was being shown on television by now. She averted her glance, paid with cash, then drove until she came to a hotel that looked safe.
    It was nearly eight, and darkness had overcome Shively. The hotel sign announced a vacancy but no valet parking, so she parked the car herself. A light blinked on in the gauge panel— low fuel. She smacked the steering wheel. If a damn cow could have four stomachs, why couldn't luxury cars have four gas tanks? She seemed to forever ride on empty.
    The triviality was the final straw, bringing tears to her eyes. She gave in to the tears for a full minute, gulping air and making humiliating little noises.