Chasing Shadows. Terri Reed

to take that. “And you know this…how?”

      She waved a hand. “Just one of the many things I learned in college.”

      “Ah, yes.” She’d been enrolled at Boston University when they’d met. He couldn’t remember her major. “You a psychologist or something?”

      “No. Just took some psych classes.”

      “So what color car do you drive?”

      She gave a small laugh. “Oh, my car won’t reveal anything about me. It’s my grandmother’s car.”

      He glanced sideways, taking in Kristina’s profile, liking the straight line of her nose and the arch of her brows. Her cheekbones were high and her jawline strong yet feminine. She’d actually grown more beautiful over the years.

      She’d taken off her black cap. Her long blond hair fell over her shoulders, the strands illuminated against her black clothing.

      Gabe slowed the car as Frank parked at the retirement center and hurriedly entered the facility through a side entrance. “Investigation’s over tonight.” Unless Gabe wanted to break in and follow, which he didn’t. He made a U-turn and headed back the way they’d come.

      “Did you find out anything about Carl and Lena?” Kris asked.

      “Not yet.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t some game, you know.”

      “I’m not playing a game,” she said with a huff.

      “You can’t go around sneaking through the night like some superhero looking for danger. Eventually you’ll find it, and then what?”

      She batted her lashes at him. “I’ll call you.”

      The mockery in her tone made his lips twitch but deep down he did want to be the one she turned to.

      As she had today.

      Pushing away that errant thought, he had to make her understand that putting herself needlessly in danger was not a good thing. “Listen, Kristina. I appreciate your loyalty to your grandmother and her friends, but you can’t go around sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

      “No one else will believe Grams,” she asserted defensively.

      “It’s difficult to believe such accusations without concrete proof.”

      “Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, find proof,” she shot back.

      “But you could get hurt.”

      “I didn’t.”

      Gabe sighed.

      She touched his arm, drawing his gaze. There was no mistaking the sincerity in her eyes. “God sent you to protect me.”

      Gabe’s stomach sank. “That kind of thinking can get you killed.”

      

      Through the slit in the curtains inside his apartment at the far end of the retirement center, Frank watched the dark vehicle’s taillights as it left the parking lot. His gut churned. What should he do?

      After turning on every light, he grabbed the phone and punched in a number.

      A few moments later a groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

      “It’s me, Frank.”

      “Do you know what time it is? What do you want?”

      “I’ve got a problem. I think Sadie Arnold’s granddaughter followed me tonight. I think she saw me.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would she do that?”

      “I don’t know,” he whined. “She’s been at the center a lot lately. I don’t like the way she looks at me.”

      “Have you been careless?”

      He plopped down on the old blue couch that had come with the room. “No.” At least he hadn’t thought he’d been. “What should I do?”

      “Stop worrying. She’ll be taken care of.”

      “She will?” Frank breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t have to do anything. “Good. Okay, good.”

      “Now, good night, Frank.”

      He hung up and hugged his waist, trying to settle the gurgling in his stomach.

      

      The headlights of Gabe’s SUV sliced through the dark to illuminate the road back into the city. Gabe glanced at Kristina’s pale hand still resting on the sleeve of his jacket. His words hung in the air. “He flicked a peek at her face and met her gaze.” With the faint bit of moonlight, he could see the stunned concern in her expression.

      “How can you say that?” Kristina finally asked, tightening her hold on him.

      He forced his gaze forward to the road. “You can’t count on God to send someone every time you get in trouble.”

      “I trust He’ll provide what I need. Tonight, He provided you.” She tapped his arm before withdrawing her hand. “God takes care of those who love Him.”

      He glanced her way. The earnestness in her expression made Gabe tighten his grip on the steering wheel. “You sound like my mother. She’s always saying things like that.”

      “So I take it you don’t believe in God.”

      Concentrating on the road ahead, he replied, “I don’t believe in anything I can’t see, touch, taste or smell.”

      “What a Doubting Thomas you are. Don’t you put stock in gut feelings?”

      He frowned. “Of course I do. I’ve had plenty and they’ve kept me alive. But that’s not God.”

      “How do you know?” she challenged. “How can you be sure those feelings weren’t God warning you?”

      “I just am.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Once his ex-partner, Brody McClain, had asked him the same question, right after they’d survived a shoot-out.

      Gabe had felt something, an inner knowledge things were about to go bad, a feeling that had made him pull Brody back from the door just as the wood exploded in a spray of gunfire. The incident still puzzled him.

      But God protecting him? No way. God hadn’t been there when Gabe had been a child and needed Him. Why would God suddenly take an interest in him as an adult?

      “So after college…what?” he asked, needing to change the subject. He hadn’t divulged information about his childhood to her the first time around and he had no intention of doing so now.

      “I’m a photographer and I love it.” She shifted toward him, her face animated in the moon’s glow. “I was fourteen when Grams gave me my first camera. I never went anywhere without that little Nikon.”

      “I remember.” She’d carried the thing with her all the time. He hadn’t given it much thought then.

      “Drove my family crazy because I was always snapping off shots.” She looked out the front window. “Every summer my parents sent me away to Camp Greenleaf. The only thing that made camp bearable every year was my camera and Meg McClain.”

      “That’s how you two met?”

      “Yep. She liked going there.”

      “And you didn’t like camp.”

      She plucked at a wayward strand of hair. “Not really. I wasn’t used to the rustic life, which earned me a lot of teasing.”

      “I can imagine,” he murmured, thinking back to the days they’d spent together. She’d liked restaurants and the ballet. He’d preferred sidewalk vendors and baseball games.

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      He shrugged. “You’re