Locked, Loaded And Sealed. Carol Ericson

turned to him, her mouth gaping open. “You expect me to know that?”

      “You worked with him. You were close to him. He treated you like a daughter. We know that.”

      Her throat felt heavy and she cleared it. “He told me very little about his life before. He always emphasized looking forward.”

      “You said you noticed something different about him in the past few weeks. Was he nervous? Jumpy?”

      “Yes.” They’d had a dinner planned and he’d cancelled it. He never canceled plans with her because he knew how much stability meant to her.

      “How so?”

      “He was secretive. He took a few phone calls behind closed doors. He also saw some mysterious patient. He gave me his file, but he never included the person’s information in the regular patient database.”

      “Is this your street?”

      “The apartment building at the end of the block on the right.”

      “That behavior was unusual for him?”

      “It was in retrospect. If he hadn’t been murdered today, I probably wouldn’t have thought much about it—except for the dinner.”

      “What dinner?” He pulled the car alongside the curb in front of her apartment building and left the engine running.

      Did he expect her to hop out and go up to her apartment by herself while he left her car at the curb and loped off into the night? Hadn’t he assured her he’d keep watch tonight? Of course, he owed her nothing.

      She coughed into the sleeve of his jacket. “We had dinner at least once a month, and he canceled this month.”

      “He never canceled before?”

      “Never. I mean, I did once or twice, but once Dr. Fazal made plans he kept them.”

      “If they’d just killed him, that would’ve been the end of it. But why the search?”

      This time she knew it was a rhetorical question, as Austin stared out the window at nothing.

      He reached for the ignition. “Should I park here or do you have a parking spot?”

      She released a breath. He wasn’t ditching her—yet. “If you go up ten feet, there’s an entrance to our underground parking garage. I’ll direct you to my spot.”

      They rolled into the garage and she pointed out her parking space, which she’d left what seemed like a lifetime ago but had only been that morning.

      “I’ll go up with you just to make sure everything’s okay, and then I can check your security and monitor the front of your building and watch the elevators.”

      “A-all night?”

      “Whatever it takes.”

      He said those three words with such conviction, she had a feeling Austin would always do whatever it took.

      “Thanks.” Was that enough? What did you say to someone who’d just saved your life? She hadn’t even thanked him for that. “A-and thanks for saving me from the man with the gun back in Cambridge.”

      “Of course.”

      She slipped out of the car and he was beside her in a second. When they got into the elevator, she pushed the button for her floor. “I’m on the third floor.”

      As they passed the second floor, Austin pulled a gun from his waistband and crowded her to the back of the car. He raised his weapon and the door opened—on her empty floor.

      She huffed out a breath, feeling dizzy with relief. “My place is on the left, smack in the middle of the floor.”

      She held out her hand for her key chain but he shook his head.

      When they reached her door, he tucked her behind his body and dangled the keys from one finger. “Which one?”

      She tapped her front door key and he inserted it into the deadbolt lock above the door handle and unlocked it. Then he opened the door, and stepped inside, leading with his gun.

      “Wait outside the door for a minute.”

      She held her breath as he stepped inside, continuing to lead with his gun.

      He disappeared inside and her heart skipped a beat. “Everything look okay?”

      “Just a minute.”

      His voice sounded muffled, and a picture flashed in her head of Austin going through her closet and personal effects. Gripping the doorjamb, she leaned into her small living room. “Nothing looks out of place in the living room.”

      Austin emerged from the hallway, his gun still out but dangling at his side. “I wanted to make sure no one was hiding in the back.”

      “First time I’ve ever felt good about my small apartment.”

      “Nothing’s out of place?” His eyes flicked over the sparse room, devoid of personal photos and treasured mementos.

      She pulled back her shoulders and marched to the console that housed her TV and a few books and placed the cracked photo of her and Dr. Fazal, which had been stashed in her purse since she’d left the office, on a shelf.

      “Everything looks fine in here. Nobody under the bed?”

      “Or in the closets or hiding in the tub behind the shower curtain, but only you can determine if anything’s messed up.”

      Again that quick glance around her sterile living room. Could she help it if she traveled light? She’d always had to pick up and go at the drop of a hat, so she kept her possessions at a minimum.

      “I’ll check the bedroom and bathroom—good thing there’s only one of each.”

      Austin trailed her as she took a few steps down the short hallway and turned into her bathroom. A small row of bottles stood at attention on the right-hand side of the vanity, her electric toothbrush claiming the left. She tugged open the mirrored medicine chest that contained toiletries, no medicine. She didn’t believe in drugs.

      When she closed the cabinet, she met Austin’s green eyes in the mirror. How had she missed those eyes before? Probably because this was the first time she’d seen him in full light. Even the bar in Cambridge had been dark.

      “All good.”

      She pointed to the shower curtain dotted with blue seahorses. “You moved that, right?”

      “I swept it aside and back again.”

      “Next room.”

      She kept her distance as Austin awkwardly backed out of the bathroom. His presence overwhelmed the small space—overwhelmed her.

      He stood aside, flattened against the wall as she brushed past him on her way to the bedroom.

      She walked into her room and surveyed the matching bed, nightstand and dresser, and a little smile curled her lips. She’d just bought the matching set two months ago—her very first matching furniture, her very first new furniture.

      She passed by the bed and ran her fingertips along the green-patterned bedspread. Then she tripped to a stop as a wave of adrenaline washed through her body and a strangled cry twisted in her throat.

      “What’s wrong?” Austin placed his hand on the small of her back.

      She turned toward him and had the strongest desire to throw herself against his solid chest. Instead she dragged in a long breath and whispered, “Someone was here.”