Lana pushed those bleak memories aside. “And then you were here. And I had the chance to live out my fantasy and tel you how much I hated you.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asked. There was no accusation in his voice, just gentle curiosity.
“Because it would have been a lie. I hate what happened and I hate thinking about it, but for what it’s worth, I don’t hate you. Not anymore.”
His hand turned over, and he laced his thick fingers through hers. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
Caleb felt like he’d been handed a rare gift. She didn’t hate him anymore. It was more than he’d ever hoped to hear her say.
She tidied up the kitchen while he just sat there in stunned silence. She didn’t hate him.
Caleb’s chest sweled with hope, and some unseen burden he’d been carrying lightened until he felt ten years younger. He hadn’t realized until now just how much her opinion of him mattered. He should have been scared by how much it mattered, knowing that if he cared what she thought, he was already in trouble. But instead, he was too grateful for the gift she’d given him.
She didn’t hate him. It was a long way from trust, but it was a start.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Denny knew better than to let the cal rol over to voice mail. Again. His boss had caled three times, and until now, Denny hadn’t been drunk enough to answer.
“What a naughty boy you are,” said that emotionless robot voice.
“I didn’t know anyone was going to come into work that early.”
“You should have handled the situation better. Now the police are crawling al over the place, patroling her office every twenty minutes.”
“I know,” he said, propping his pounding head in his hand. He’d fucked up big-time. He’d panicked when that lady came in. He hadn’t meant to shoot her, but the damn gun had gone off, and then there was al that blood.
Denny swalowed hard to keep from puking.
“Did you find what I was looking for?” asked the robot.
“No. Nothing like that. Just business stuff. There was a flyer that had some photos of kids on it, but no drawings.”
“And you checked everywhere?”
Denny considered lying, but the thought that his boss might figure it out, on top of him botching the job, was just too frightening. Bruce had come by today and told him he had a week to pay up his dad’s debt. He hadn’t said anything else, but the basebal bat propped up in the back of Bruce’s convertible had done plenty of talking for him.
“I couldn’t get to one of the file cabinets in back. The lady walked in before I finished.”
“You can’t go back now. The police wil interfere.”
“I’m sorry I screwed up. It won’t happen again.”
“I know,” said his boss, but whether it was in response to his first statement or his second, Denny had no idea. That was less than comforting.
“What do you want me to do now?”
“I’m not sure I can trust you any longer.”
Desperation clawed inside Denny’s sour stomach. “Please give me another chance. I swear I won’t fuck up this time.”
Silence stretched out for a long time, making Denny squirm.
“There is one more thing I need you to do, but it is considerably more dangerous than your last job.”
Nothing was more dangerous than facing Bruce again without money in hand. “Anything. I’l do it.”
He could almost hear the smile in the metalic voice. “Good boy.”
Stacie was pale but smiling when Lana was finaly alowed to see her. They shared a teary hug that Lana was careful not to put too much force behind. Stacie’s normaly perfect makeup was smudged in some places and missing in others, and rather than a crisp blouse, she wore a droopy hospital gown.
“How are you feeling?” asked Lana.
“Like I’ve been shot,” joked Stacie. “But they tel me I’l live.”
“Have the police been bothering you?”
“Not much. They had a few questions, but there was so little I could tel them they just gave up and went away.”
Lana felt Caleb’s presence as he stepped up behind her. He said, “I’m sorry to have to ask you more questions, but I realy need to have you tel us what you saw.”
Stacie leaned her head back on the pilow. “Not much. I unlocked the door, turned on the lights, and a man came out of the back room where we keep al the files and office supplies. He pointed a gun at me, told me to get into the bathroom, so I did.”
“Did you see his face?”
“He wore a mask, but I could see enough skin around his eyes and mouth to tel he had coloring about like yours, Caleb. He was youngish. His eyes were bloodshot like maybe he was on drugs.”
“How young?”
“No wrinkles yet, and there was this . . . wildness about his eyes that make me think he was new to the whole armed-robbery experience. I’d guess midtwenties, but it’s hard to be sure.”
“So then what happened?” asked Caleb.
“I went into the bathroom like he said. I backed in, keeping my eyes on that gun. I guess I wasn’t fast enough, because he shoved me. I started to fal and reached for him to catch my balance—which was a stupid reflex. That’s when the gun went off. I hit my head on the sink, or maybe the toilet. That’s al I remember until Lana showed up.”