Gold Rush (Blackwood Security #4) - Elise Noble Page 0,3

lost Momma, I gained Missy. We bonded in the cafeteria over a shared love of stale sandwiches and lukewarm coffee, and she helped me through the most awful time of my life. What would I do without her?

I cracked the door open. “He was here again.”

She pushed her way in and hugged me. “Oh, honey, you should call someone.”

Like who? Did she mean the police or a psychiatrist? “My phone’s got no credit.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a crumpled ten-dollar bill. “Take this.”

My eyes prickled with tears at her generosity. She was saving up for her wedding, and money was tight. “I can’t.”

She tucked it into my pocket. “You can and you will.” After another rummage, she held out a can. “I brought you a gift.”

“Pepper spray?”

“A girl needs to be prepared. You should take a self-defence class. The one I did last year kicked ass.”

I didn’t want to kick ass. I just wanted to sleep in my own bed at night without some freak staking out my apartment.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Call me if you change your mind. The instructor was hot.”

I loved that girl. Even when she thought I’d gone insane, she still tried to make my padded cell a happier place.

Tried and failed.

Feeling slowly returned to my bottom as I went into the bathroom to put my pyjamas on. Once, I’d have changed next to my bed, but now the madness had set in, I locked myself away before I peeled off my jeans.

In bed, I wrapped the blankets around me like a shield, regressing to my childhood belief that if the bogeyman couldn’t see me, he couldn’t get me. Even so, I barely closed my eyes. The prospect of being murdered in my sleep kept me awake better than a double dose of caffeine.

The next day, I was wiping down the bar at Buck’s when my phone rang. My heart skipped as “Unknown caller” flashed up on the screen. Only a handful of people had my number, and my hand shook as I answered.

“Lara Reynolds?”

“That’s me.” I hated the quaver that crept into my voice.

“I’m the detective who took your statement a couple of weeks ago. The mugging? I thought I’d check up to see if everything was okay.”

Oh shoot, should I tell him about my fears? Momma always said a problem shared was a problem halved, but if Missy didn’t believe me, why would a complete stranger? I had no proof, just instances of untidiness and an intangible scent problem. I may as well tell him I was being haunted. Hey, maybe I had a poltergeist? Did ghosts smoke?

“Hello?” His voice crackled out of the speaker.

“Yes, I’m here.” I hesitated. “I’m not sure… Sometimes I think…”

“You sound nervous, and that’s perfectly normal. A lot of people get jumpy after an assault. If you want, I could refer you to a…” I heard the rustling of paper in the background. “To a therapist. Now, where did I put the card with the number?”

Therapy? He thought it was all in my head, didn’t he? “No need for that. Everything’s fine, really.”

“You’re sure?”

“Never been better.”

“Glad to hear it. You know where to find me if you ever want to talk.”

As the line went dead, a ball of dread rolled around in my stomach. Perhaps I should have said something? Well, it was too late now.

Things only got worse the week after. I had four teabags left, enough to last until my next visit to the grocery store. Tragic that I should have to count them, but every cent counted when you lived on the breadline. When I got in from cleaning at lunchtime on Wednesday, four had turned into three. Had my math skills deserted me as well as my sanity? I thought they had until I touched the kettle and found it warm.

Heart pounding, I tried phoning Missy. I needed a hug, her positive words, and a hot self-defence instructor. No answer. A single tear escaped, and I wiped it away with the edge of my T-shirt. Now what? I checked my watch, did the math in my head, and calculated it was 8 a.m. in England. Tori would be awake—her kids never let her sleep past seven.

I’d known Victoria since I started elementary school. She was the one person who stuck by me after Pop left, and even though we attended different junior highs, we’d stayed close. When she moved to England at fourteen, that was the greatest loss I’d experienced up until Momma’s

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