using Healy’s name for some crazy reason that the two men had agreed on, it made no sense that Healy would insist that he was being impersonated by a thief and then have her spill the whole story to Ungaro. And surely based on her description of the Florida mystery man, Ungaro might have guessed she was describing a former employee. Or Healy may have even told him.
Other questions followed. What was on the flash drive masquerading as a pen? What kind of “precarious situation” was X involved in? And most important, who were they? Even if X left her alone from now on or she turned him in to the police, they would still pose a danger.
She wondered briefly if Sasha might shed any light on things. She could call and try to nudge her into rescheduling their appointment. But Sasha had her antenna up big time, and would have her suspicions aroused if Kit suddenly tossed out the name of a former colleague, particularly one who might have left under suspicious circumstances.
Kit glanced at her watch. On Sundays she often made pasta for herself, but she had little appetite tonight. Besides, cooking would entail running out for groceries and she’d worry that they were out there, the people X had alluded to. They might be watching her the way X had clearly been, and even worse, planning to hack their way back into her apartment now that they’d discovered that the stolen flash drive wasn’t the one they’d been searching for. And there might be no appeasing them with a glass of Pinot Grigio.
Damn, she thought, clenching her fists. She had to figure out who they were and what was really going on. Only once she’d done so could she go to the police with real information and not just vague references to a mystery man.
She splashed more wine into her glass and took another sip. As she set the glass down, her fingers grazed the edge of the glass X had used. Next to it lay the slip of paper on which he’d scribbled the number for his burn phone.
Which version of him was she supposed to buy? Garrett Kelman, a con artist who’d tricked her in Florida, forced his way into her home to obtain what he wanted, possibly murdered a man, and was now trying to trick her with a new, improved version of himself?
Or Garrett Kelman, not a criminal mastermind at all, just a man who had unintentionally drawn her into harm’s way and was now offering information of value if she’d only “trust” him? She hadn’t a clue.
She thought of the words he’d said as he’d departed: “And just for the record, I felt it, too.” There was no denying that she’d experienced an electric jolt at that moment, and some part of her wanted the Florida fantasy back, might always yearn for it, but as far as she knew, the man she’d been attracted to two weeks ago was nothing more than a phantom.
She covered her mouth and breathed into her hand. Inside she was churning.
I have to call that number, she thought. I have to talk to him again. The idea of another encounter with X frightened her—he hadn’t hurt her this time, but there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t in the future.
And yet she knew it was the only way to lay her hands on the information she needed. It was the only way to ultimately escape the danger she was in.
So much, she thought again, for no strings attached.
chapter 12
That night she hardly slept. She jerked awake every hour or so, startled, as if roused by a sound that was out of place. Each time she lay in the twisted sheets straining to hear, wondering if X had returned and was creeping around her apartment. She told herself that he couldn’t be, that the door alarm would have begun to shriek.
After waking again just before six, it was clear to her there was no chance of falling back to sleep. She made coffee and sat at the island, replaying her encounter with X. She still didn’t know what version of the man she was supposed to believe.
What she did know was that over the past few days she’d fallen behind in her work and she needed to snap into gear. Of course, this would require faking it around clients, pretending that life was perfectly peachy when the world really seemed to be spinning off its axis.
She showered, dressed,