keep hoping the police will find whoever is behind the unfortunate incidents. Have they made any strides at all?”
“None they’ve shared with me.”
The woman exhaled. “I’m sorry to hear that. I noticed that nice-looking young detective leaving your house Saturday night and I hoped there’d been a break in the case.”
“No.” Eve took another bite of cookie. How to explain Brent’s visit? If she told her neighbor about the incident in the school parking lot, Olivia would worry more. “He was here to follow up on a few details.” True—except the details were about the latest attack.
“Oh.” Olivia’s face fell. “That’s disappointing.”
“I know they’re working hard to find the culprit—but in the meantime, I’m hoping he’ll get tired of the game and my life will return to normal.”
“I wonder if that’s already happened? It has been six days since that call to the station.”
“True.” Eve picked up another cookie and changed the subject. “These are delicious.”
“I’m glad you like them, my dear. Best of all, you don’t have to worry about how many you eat. Hard as you work, you’ll burn those calories off in a jiffy.”
“I wish.”
“No wishing necessary. It’s true. You’re refinishing floors, for heaven’s sake.” She shook her head. “In my day, women didn’t tackle such jobs. Not that we couldn’t have, mind you—but letting a man do the heavy work does have its advantages.” She winked.
“I see your point.” But having someone to work with her, side by side, on projects like this would be even more appealing. Especially someone with dark brown eyes . . . warm, firm lips . . . and character stamped on every contour of his face.
“Besides, all your running around keeps you in shape too. Going to the radio station at the crack of dawn, riding your bike, taking those spanning classes, your frequent speaking engagements.” She exhaled. “I don’t know how you keep all those balls in the air.”
“There are days I don’t either.” Eve took a third cookie.
“You gave a speech last weekend, didn’t you? At an outdoor event—a rally, I believe?”
“No, that’s a week from Saturday. Last weekend was the PTA talk.”
“Oh yes. I remember now. The next event is a picnic for politicians . . . or is it young entrepreneurs . . . or veterans?”
“All of the above, I expect.” She washed down the remains of her last cookie. “It’s the annual barbecue for a Young Republicans group. The members fall into all those categories.”
“You are one busy lady.”
“I love my work—and I like doing my part to protect the values that built this country.”
Olivia nodded. “It’s important to stand up for what you believe—no matter the risk.”
“I agree.”
“Well . . .” The older woman pushed herself to her feet. “I should be off. You have to get back to your floor job.”
“And prepare for tomorrow’s radio program.” She rose too. “Thank you again for the cookies. I can assure you they won’t last long.”
“I’ll whip up another batch soon. Don’t work too hard.” Olivia patted her arm and crossed the deck.
“Would you like an extra arm to lean on while you go down the steps?” Eve knew the answer before her spry neighbor responded.
“I’m fine.” She started down. “The doctor’s after me to use a cane, but I’m resisting. These legs may not be as strong as they once were, but they get me where I have to go without any propping up.”
Eve waited until Olivia crossed the lawn and disappeared onto her patio, then wandered back inside, locking the door behind her.
Quiet descended.
Too much quiet.
It was a shame she didn’t have an excuse to call Brent for an update.
But he’d left one on her voicemail yesterday, while her cell was stowed in a locker during spinning class—and it had been both detailed and concise. The CSU tech had found a few dark hairs clumped beside her car, and Brent had promised to call her if they yielded any useful information. He hadn’t asked about the status of the tire situation, nor offered to drive her to the school parking lot to retrieve her car, so she’d hitched a ride in the mechanic’s truck.
Sighing, she set the plate of cookies on the counter and tossed the two empty soft drink cans into the recycle bin.
Why, oh why, had he called during her class?
Eve trudged back to the living room, slipped on the dust mask, and flipped the switch on the buffer.
But her mind wasn’t on the task at hand. It was busy trying to