Blood Red by Heather Graham Page B

said.
    â€œThat’s true. The more gruesome the crime, the bigger the headline,” Lauren said.
    Deanna linked arms with her, adjusting her sunglasses. “But we’re smart, and we’re not going to do anything stupid, like going off alone. You were the one who lectured us on safety way back in college—and we listened.”
    â€œMy dad was a cop,” Lauren reminded her. “I learned my lessons young.”
    â€œRight. And you taught us. None of us wander around alone at night, and we all keep an eye on who’s around us at all times. We’re all street smart.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œEnough of this depressing stuff. It’s time to go shopping,” Heidi said. “Honestly, Lauren—my dear slave—this is my happy time. I know you always worry about the dangerss of the world, but let’s go shopping.”
    â€œRight, shopping,” Deanna agreed.
    Watching from a distance, homing in on the girls and trying to filter out other conversation, Mark took a long look at Deanna. She looked exhausted, as if she were suffering from a serious lack of sleep.
    They hadn’t seen him yet. He had his newspaper up in front of his face, his dark glasses in place. They were wandering slowly through the courtyard, as if unsure whether to leave or not.
    â€œCoffee?” Deanna suggested.
    â€œWe’ll get some on the way,” Heidi said. “Let’s go
    â€œShopping,” Lauren said dryly.
    â€œI can tell you’re still worried,” Heidi said with a sigh.
    â€œIt was that woman last night. The fortune teller,” Deanna said.
    â€œWe should never have made Lauren do what she didn’t want to,” Heidi admitted.
    â€œIt’s over, and I’m all right. Let’s go,” Lauren said.
    She walked right past him and didn’t even notice him, Mark noticed with relief. The other two women followed in her wake and didn’t spare him a glance, either.
    At the exit from the courtyard, though, Lauren paused and looked back, as if puzzled. As if she thought she should be seeing something but didn’t know what.
    Her eyes fell on him, and she frowned. He stared back at her through the dark lenses of his glasses.
    She hesitated, and he couldn’t tell whether she recognized him from the night before or not. The newspaper was shielding most of his face, and her expression was uncertain.
    Deanna, concentrating on arranging the strap of her purse, plowed into her. “Hey! I thought we were leaving,” she said.
    Lauren didn’t respond. Instead, she walked back into the courtyard, and Mark watched her as she came toward him. “Hello,” she said, looking straight at him. His heart lurched. She looked so much like Katie.
    â€œHi.”
    â€œWe met last night,” she said.
    â€œThe bar,” he agreed.
    â€œYou’re staying here?”
    â€œIt’s a great little place. I see that you and your friends have discovered it, too.” He rose, extending a hand. “You told me your name, but I didn’t tell you mine. Mark Davidson.”
    She accepted his hand. Touching her, even so casually, sent a jolt through him.
    â€œMy last name’s Crow. Lauren Crow,” she said softly. She turned to her friends, who had followed and were standing behind her. “These are my friends. Deanna??? and Heidi Weiss.”
    â€œHi,” they chimed in unison, stepping up to shake hands.
    â€œYou two know each other?” Deanna said.
    â€œNot really. We met in the bar last night.”
    â€œCool,” Deanna said.
    â€œWe’re here from LA. Where do you call home?” Heidi asked.
    â€œAt the moment?” he replied. “I’m in the middle of relocating.”
    â€œAre you thinking about moving to New Orleans?” Deanna asked.
    â€œIt’s a great place,” he said.
    â€œI guess,” Deanna managed around a yawn, then excused herself quickly. “Not a lot of