Free Brainstorm by Margaret Belle Page B

open.
    “You have his eyes,” he said. “The other side, though, no
photo of your mom?”
    I closed the locket and covered it with my hand. “I had
one, but it fell out when I was little,” I lied.
    “You could always replace it,” he said. “You must have
another one.”
    “No,” I said, “I don’t. Can we change the subject,
please?”
    He smiled. “Sure. It’s your locket. Maybe you’ll put
someone else’s picture in the other side someday.” He raised an eyebrow, as if
to say perhaps it would be his.
    Instead of getting to lounge in bed, relishing our first
time together, we hopped in the shower (which was fun too), and then got
dressed before our company arrived.
    The interview didn’t take long, and I was not nervous at all,
but I attributed that to Jack. After I answered his questions, the sheriff’s
deputy shook hands with me, then with Jack, and left with the box. I was glad
to see it go, even though I knew it would be the reason my life would become
even more complicated than it was now.
    Jack started to pick up his things – his keys, his cell –
getting ready to go. “I’m going to stay here tonight,” I said, “I want to sleep
in my own bed.”
    “I’m always just a phone call away.” He kissed me
goodbye, and when he went to leave, I pulled him back.
    “One more,” I said, and he happily obliged.
    Had there ever been a time when I’d felt happier than I
did at this moment? In a celebratory mood, I jammied up and threw a bag of
popcorn into the microwave. I was dating a cop! A man who was putting up with
me so far, and someone who could protect me; keep me safe. One who had already
helped me so much, and had helped Harley as well. I couldn’t believe any harm
would come to her, or to me, with Officer Jack Morey on our side.
    I flipped on the news, thinking I wouldn’t need any
medication at all to get to sleep. The first story was a report of a crash, in
which a vehicle had run off the road and sheared off a telephone pole; the
scene was gruesome. A reporter was standing outside, near the scene of the
accident that she said had happened yesterday. I’d turned in early last night
and missed the news.
    The reporter continued, “The name of the driver who
perished in the crash, is Miller Crawford, owner of Miller’s Security Systems,
in Watertown and Rochester.”

Chapter 13
    No! This couldn’t be happening! Miller was dead? I ran into
the bathroom and vomited. Sitting on the floor, with my head spinning, sobs
tore at my body. This was my fault. Had to be. I should never have taken him on
as a client. I knew something could happen to him if I did, and I did it
anyway. What kind of a person was I? Oh, God. Miller was dead.
    I fell asleep right there on the bathroom floor, waking
during the night only long enough to drag myself off to bed, where I remained
awake until morning. When I couldn’t lie there any longer, I picked up the
phone and called Dr. Steele. “Can you see me this morning? It’s important.”
     
     
    “So what’s going on?” Dr. Steele asked, settling herself
into her chair. She crossed her legs, straightened her back, and held a pencil
over her notebook, poised and ready to take notes like a capable secretary.
    “Another client,” I said. “This one died.”
    Her face went slack, her notebook forgotten. “Oh, my God,
Audrey, when?”
    “Two days ago, but I didn’t hear about it until last
night,” I said. “The thing is, I met with him the day he died. We spent an hour
in my office going over his business material. I mean, he was a new client. It
was our introductory meeting, as far as his advertising went.”
    “What do you mean, as far as his advertising went?”
    “He’d been in my office once before, and we’d had lunch
together before that. He installed one of his security systems at my office.”
    “This is most likely just a terrible coincidence,” she
said. “The poor man had an unfortunate accident the day he met with you,