Don't Look Back by Lynette Eason Page A

cylinder, then pushing it back out.
    She had not left the pen on her desk clicked out.
    “Jamie?”
    Blinking, she looked up, then shook her head. “I’m coming.” Dropping the pen on top of the folder, she grabbed her purse and followed Dakota into the hall.
    Dakota said, “I asked George if he’d go to lunch with us.”
    “What?” she frowned at him. “Why?”
    “I want to get his perspective on the things going on with you. Use his profiling and psychological expertise.”
    “What if I’m wrong?”
    “What makes you say that?”
    She blurted, “The third is Sam’s birthday. What if I absently circled the three on the calendar? What if I . . .” She stopped, swallowed hard, and averted her eyes. George strolled toward them.
    “Jamie . . .” Dakota laid a hand on her arm and she didn’t pull away.
    Forcing a smile for the approaching newcomer, she said, “Never mind.”
    Leaning over, he whispered in her ear, “You’re not crazy.”
    Appreciation for this man flooded her and she felt herself relax. A little.
    “Hey, guys, I’m ready. Thanks for asking me to tag along. Being the new person in the house makes for some lonely lunches some days.”
    Guilt hit Jamie. “I’m so sorry, we should have asked you to join us long before now.”
    George flashed a grin. “No worries. I’ve actually been buried under all the paperwork and the act of figuring out what I’m doing that comes with a new job, meeting clients, et cetera. So it’s not a big deal.”
    “All right then, let’s get going.”
    Dakota led the way and the trio headed out of the building and stepped onto the sidewalk. Jamie gave a small gasp as heat and humidity pressed her lungs flat. “Whew! I’m ready for fall.”
    Two minutes later, they entered the cool interior of the restaurant and Jamie pointed. “Look, Connor’s already got us a table.”
    “Great, I’m starving.”
    After Connor and George exchanged greetings and handshakes, they seated themselves. The waitress took their order, and Jamie looked around the table. She didn’t know whether to laugh or get up and run. She, Jamie Cash, avowed man-hater, sat at a table with three men.
    Okay, God, this is just a little further out of my comfort zone than I think is necessary. She examined herself and realized . . . she was fine. No signs of a panic attack, and only the faintest desire to flee the premises and escape to her bed – or the lab. Gladness lifted her and she took a sip of water. Thank you, God.
    “. . . haven’t you, Jamie?”
    The question threw her. “What?”
    Connor’s eyes crinkled around the corners. “Are you with us?”
    Flushing, she took a sip of water. “Yes, sorry. I was thinking.” “About what?”
    She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What were we talking about?”
    George leaned in. “They were telling me a little about what’s going on with you. You’ve got a stalker?” Concern wrinkled his brow and he looked eager to help.
    Grimacing, Jamie shrugged. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that I . . . jumped to conclusions.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean the things that have happened have been things I could have overlooked, forgotten about.” She sighed. “Things I could have done myself.”
    “But you don’t think so?” George asked.
    Jamie looked away. “I don’t know what to think. Everything that’s happened has been something that I could have done. Nothing was found by Jake, so . . .” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”
    “Have you had episodes of forgetfulness? Leaving the stove on when you thought you turned it off? Thinking you put something on the coffee table, then finding it in your bedroom. Little things like that?”
    She thought about the picture in her Bible and looked him in the eye. “No.”
    He blinked and looked over at the other two men. “Then I would say it’s a distinct possibility that you have a stalker.”
    “But how did he get in my house?” Frustration boiled in her