arrest, as well as when she was going through accounting school. With her gentle persuasion and tough love, she had helped Dory find a new path and a new way of doing things. She’d even helped her find a place in this apartment building.
Heat and tears welled in her eyes as she noticed the way Marta’s son’s eyes were glistening. No way would this be good news. Greg was a strong man—a happy man—and she had never seen him cry.
She stowed her gear and ran over to them, wrapping Greg and his wife, Claire, in a tight hug before offering words of comfort. Nothing could truly be comforting, but she would try anyway. For Marta.
“Dory, oh, Dory.” Greg ran a hand down the back of her hair, smoothing what she was sure was total helmet head.
“Greg, I’m so sorry!”
“Why, honey?” He held her at arm’s length, and she finally got a good look at him without the bias of her own feelings. “They found her, honey. She’s going to be okay.”
Relief flooded through Dory, making her weak-kneed. They’d found her? “Who’s
they?”
“I don’t know, but some guy dropped her off at the hospital. He said that he found her walking around the old business district. Jackson something or other. They said he wasn’t involved at all, and Mom is talking her head off about all the things she remembers.”
“Did they hurt her?”
“She has some cuts and bruises, a few bumps, several broken bones. I haven’t been able to see her yet, but I’m told she’s going to be fine. All of this is hard to swallow, but I’m trying to remember she’s a tough old broad.” Greg held her hands, which were icy from the shock of thinking Marta was gone. Slowly she warmed up, and a smile bloomed on her face.
“Well, when you do see her, tell her I’m thinking about her and hoping for her speedy recovery.”
“Will do. Now, I’d better get back to the police officers to see when we can get into the hospital. You take care of yourself. Be careful.” Greg walked back over to Marta’s apartment and then let himself in the front door.
His words so closely echoed Garrett’s that it brought the man front and center in her brain. Where had he been? Was he home now?
Taking the stairs as quickly as she dared in her low heels, she made it to the third floor in record time. No one was on the landing, and Garrett’s door was closed. She didn’t think he’d be waiting for her in the hallway, but there was a part of her that wished she at least had his phone number so she could make sure he was all right. He wasn’t the only one who was allowed to worry. And just because the only other man in the building hadn’t been attacked didn’t mean the bad guys couldn’t change things up in an instant if they wanted.
She’d just knock on his door to see if he was home.
But when she knocked, the door creaked open under her fist. She had never known Garrett to leave his apartment open. He’d told her once that he was all about locks, warning her to get into the habit of locking her door behind her even if she only had to run a quick errand.
Curiosity and a sense of impending doom propelled her over the threshold and into his home for the second time in a little over twelve hours. She searched the rooms, calling out his name, her voice soft. If he had come home to sleep off their lunch and heal his wounds from this morning, she didn’t want to be the one to wake him. But he wasn’t on the leather couch, and he wasn’t in the kitchen. The bathroom door was partially open, so she peered in. Empty. His bedroom was last. She really didn’t want to intrude, but the thought of finding his body half-naked again was not exactly unappealing. She’d been crushing on the dark-haired man ever since he moved into the building. But she’d admired him only from afar. That glimpse of his chest this morning had set something off in her girly bits that she was having a hard time tamping back down. The kiss had only added fuel to that fire.
Very
Heat and tears welled in her eyes as she noticed the way Marta’s son’s eyes were glistening. No way would this be good news. Greg was a strong man—a happy man—and she had never seen him cry.
She stowed her gear and ran over to them, wrapping Greg and his wife, Claire, in a tight hug before offering words of comfort. Nothing could truly be comforting, but she would try anyway. For Marta.
“Dory, oh, Dory.” Greg ran a hand down the back of her hair, smoothing what she was sure was total helmet head.
“Greg, I’m so sorry!”
“Why, honey?” He held her at arm’s length, and she finally got a good look at him without the bias of her own feelings. “They found her, honey. She’s going to be okay.”
Relief flooded through Dory, making her weak-kneed. They’d found her? “Who’s
they?”
“I don’t know, but some guy dropped her off at the hospital. He said that he found her walking around the old business district. Jackson something or other. They said he wasn’t involved at all, and Mom is talking her head off about all the things she remembers.”
“Did they hurt her?”
“She has some cuts and bruises, a few bumps, several broken bones. I haven’t been able to see her yet, but I’m told she’s going to be fine. All of this is hard to swallow, but I’m trying to remember she’s a tough old broad.” Greg held her hands, which were icy from the shock of thinking Marta was gone. Slowly she warmed up, and a smile bloomed on her face.
“Well, when you do see her, tell her I’m thinking about her and hoping for her speedy recovery.”
“Will do. Now, I’d better get back to the police officers to see when we can get into the hospital. You take care of yourself. Be careful.” Greg walked back over to Marta’s apartment and then let himself in the front door.
His words so closely echoed Garrett’s that it brought the man front and center in her brain. Where had he been? Was he home now?
Taking the stairs as quickly as she dared in her low heels, she made it to the third floor in record time. No one was on the landing, and Garrett’s door was closed. She didn’t think he’d be waiting for her in the hallway, but there was a part of her that wished she at least had his phone number so she could make sure he was all right. He wasn’t the only one who was allowed to worry. And just because the only other man in the building hadn’t been attacked didn’t mean the bad guys couldn’t change things up in an instant if they wanted.
She’d just knock on his door to see if he was home.
But when she knocked, the door creaked open under her fist. She had never known Garrett to leave his apartment open. He’d told her once that he was all about locks, warning her to get into the habit of locking her door behind her even if she only had to run a quick errand.
Curiosity and a sense of impending doom propelled her over the threshold and into his home for the second time in a little over twelve hours. She searched the rooms, calling out his name, her voice soft. If he had come home to sleep off their lunch and heal his wounds from this morning, she didn’t want to be the one to wake him. But he wasn’t on the leather couch, and he wasn’t in the kitchen. The bathroom door was partially open, so she peered in. Empty. His bedroom was last. She really didn’t want to intrude, but the thought of finding his body half-naked again was not exactly unappealing. She’d been crushing on the dark-haired man ever since he moved into the building. But she’d admired him only from afar. That glimpse of his chest this morning had set something off in her girly bits that she was having a hard time tamping back down. The kiss had only added fuel to that fire.
Very
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