Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,85
mugging for the camera in front of a fountain. Just looking at that poofy white dress made Bailey itchy. It was way too hot for a photo shoot, but maybe with some creative editing the sheen on their skin would look like something besides sweat.
A woman on the sidewalk caught Bailey’s eye.
Slender, sunglasses, black Saints cap with tufts of dark red hair peeking out. Bailey’s pulse sped up. The woman wore a green peacoat and had a blue backpack slung over her shoulder.
“No way,” Bailey muttered, reaching for her phone. Where the hell was Jacob?
The woman passed the wedding party but didn’t give them a charmed smile like everyone else. She walked swiftly, darting her gaze around.
It was her.
Underneath the hat and the shades and the peacoat—who wore a coat in this weather?—it was Tabitha Walker.
Bailey jerked the keys from the ignition and stuffed them in her pocket. She grabbed her phone and got out of the car.
I think I see her! she texted Jacob. Black Saints cap NE corner of the square.
* * *
* * *
SOMEONE WAS WATCHING her. Tabitha could feel it.
She cast a glance over her shoulder but couldn’t pinpoint where the feeling was coming from. Everyone seemed suspicious, from the man at the bus stop smoking a cigarette to the guy loitering near the pub, who seemed to be talking on his phone. Even the couple in front of her strolling hand-in-hand down the street seemed to be moving at an unnaturally slow pace.
Tabitha quickened her steps, darting around the lovebirds and slicing her way through a gaggle of tourists with ice cream cones. Two blocks ahead was a red-brick hotel with wrought-iron balconies and a trio of French flags hanging above the entrance. She trained her gaze on the line of taxis waiting outside. She’d jump in one of those cabs and be at the bus station in ten minutes.
She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder. It felt heavy, and her back was sweating beneath her thick coat. She’d divided her money into two stashes—one in her front pocket and one in the coat lining—and crammed every scrap of clothing she could fit into the backpack. If she got hard up for cash, she could sell off some of her clothes.
Tabitha crossed a street and scanned the hotel. Beside the valet stand, a businessman stood next to a black roll-on suitcase. A uniformed valet stepped into the street and whistled, and the taxi at the front of the line rolled forward.
The taxis were for guests. Tabitha’s chest tightened as she realized her mistake. Could she pretend to be one of them? She glanced at the valet again. Maybe if she tipped him, he wouldn’t care.
The businessman was looking at her now. Something flickered across his face. Recognition? Then he looked away.
Tabitha’s blood turned cold. She turned and ducked into a store.
* * *
* * *
BAILEY CROSSED THE intersection just as the light turned red. She hopped onto the sidewalk, bumping into someone.
“Sorry,” she said.
He shot a glare over his shoulder.
Bailey looked up, and the black Saints cap had vanished.
Damn it, she’d just had her. Now where had she gone? Bailey broke into a jog, scanning all the heads in front of her on the sidewalk. No black Saints cap. Had she removed it? Bailey didn’t see anyone with short red hair, either.
A text landed on her phone from Jacob: Where r u?
* * *
* * *
TABITHA STOOD BEHIND the rack of T-shirts, ducking low as she peered out the store window at the hotel down the street. The businessman was still standing on the sidewalk. Had he seen her step in here? Was he even watching her?
Tabitha’s heart hammered. Her chest tightened until she felt like she was sucking air through a straw. She looked out the window and tried to figure out whether the businessman had noticed her ducking in here. Was she being paranoid? No. The look he’d given her had made her skin crawl.
A taxi stopped in front of the businessman. The cab’s trunk popped open, and the valet rolled the black suitcase to the back as the businessman slid inside the car.
“May I help you?”
Tabitha jumped.
A saleswoman stood behind her. She looked down pointedly, and Tabitha realized she was holding one of the T-shirt sleeves in a death grip. She must look like a lunatic.
She released the shirt and forced a smile. “Sorry, just . . . browsing.”
The saleswoman watched suspiciously as Tabitha left the store.
* * *