All Good Deeds Read Free Page B

other.”
    “No offense, but I really don’t want to know any more about you,” I said. “I just want to pretend this never happened.”
    Chris dug his wallet out of his pocket and tossed it across the table. “There. Look through it. Take my driver’s license information. Look me up.”
    Now I was certain he needed the psychiatric evaluation. “Are you crazy? Besides, this could be fake.”
    “Except it’s not. And you can easily confirm that.”
    I stood up and slipped on my coat. My insides burned with panic, and my brain felt sluggish. I needed to get away from Chris, into the fresh air. Figure out what to do next.
    Chris scribbled something down on his napkin and then slid it over to me. A phone number. I put it in my purse. I’d throw it out later.
    He stood and stretched. His shirt hiked up enough for me to see the muscles of his abdomen. I looked away only to see the women at the next table trying to check him out without being noticeable. “It was nice meeting you, Lucy.”
    “You know my name.”
    “I’m observant. I’ll be looking forward to your phone call.” He flashed me one last annoyingly captivating smile and then disappeared into the crowd.
    My phone call? I wasn’t about to get into any sort of partnership with some guy who crawled out of Chetter’s woodwork, even if he turned out to be exactly what he said he was. Especially if he turned out that way . With him out of sight, some of the tension in my muscles evaporated. I leaned against the wall trying not to throw up. Life has tossed me curveballs for as long as I could remember, and I was good at lobbing them out of the way with ease. Cops I could deal with. Angry family members, parents who feel they’ve failed their child because they didn’t realize the kid was being molested–those situations I could handle. I knew when to fight and when to walk away and save the battle for next time. When I finally accepted our justice system wasn’t black and white and decided to strike out on my own, I prepared myself for the inevitable day I was caught for my decisions.
    But Chris Hale was an entirely different monster, and I had no idea what to do with him.

3
    S leep eluded me most of the night. Instead of dreams of falling into the black void of death, every time I closed my eyes, Chris Hale’s face danced in my memory. He was unpredictable, and that sort of person is always the most dangerous. How long had he been following me? And why? More importantly, how did I miss him? So much for being self-aware.
    Dawn cracked through my blinds, and I imagined the city beginning to wake up. Windows glowed with life, hopefully with happy families starting their day, and furnaces vented out tufts of white smoke that looked like swelled clouds. The thought made me feel peaceful. A rare emotion.
    Since my first eradication of a sex offender eighteen months ago, I’d accepted that one day I’d likely be caught. With every scumbag I silenced–five in all, as of now–a dozen new scenarios of my own judgment day raced through my head, dramatic and filled with chaos. None of them included being approached by a man like Chris Hale.
    A warm, chubby body pressed against my shoulders, flicking its tail in my face. Mousecop, the fat tiger cat I’d rescued a few months ago, needed sustenance. Meaning he could see a spot on the bottom of his food bowl, which somehow translated to starving in cat-speak.
    I rolled out of bed, and Mousecop immediately rubbed against my side, purring loudly. I scratched between his ears, and his green eyes glowed with appreciation.
    “Somebody knows our secret, Mousey,” I said. “What am I going to do?”
    He blinked and then rubbed his head against my hand, demanding more skritches.
    “I wish my problems were solved with food and scratches.”
    I spent the morning catching up on paperwork and cleaning my small apartment. I’d only been working as a private investigator for a year, but because of my background in social