What She Doesn't See Read Free Page B

had wooden porches.
    Frowning at her wet tracks, Alex returned to
her bedroom and opened her lingerie drawer. When she would have
selected a clean pair of underwear, she hesitated. Something wasn’t
right. Her pulse skipped as she checked drawer after drawer.
Everything was there but different somehow… as if someone had
riffled through her things.
    She shook her head. Evidently her mother had
been borrowing her clothes again. The jangle of her cell prevented
Alex from marching up to her mother’s apartment and demanding an
explanation. She hoped it wasn’t a potential client. Alex was beat,
she was ready for bed and a couple hours of mindless TV
watching.
    “Alex Jackson.” She’d stopped answering with
hello years ago. It seemed her regular customers, various
landlords, cops and whoever, assumed she was available at any
hour.
    “Hey, Alex, it’s Louis.”
    Hitch. What did he want? Guilt pinged her.
She didn’t actually mind hearing from him, but she’d learned from
experience that maintaining frequent contact proved nothing more
than a segue to
let’s try again.
She pulled the lapels of
her robe together, suddenly self-conscious that she was naked under
her robe.
    “What’s up?” She mentally weighed the pros
and cons of having another beer. Two was usually her limit, but
this night had the definite makings of necessary third. Somewhere
in the back of her mind a little voice reminded her that alcoholism
could be genetic. So far having a few beers hadn’t been a problem
for her. Maybe she’d seen enough drunken brawls out of her parents
to override genetics.
    “I just wanted to call and thank you for
alerting me to that piece of potential evidence you found this
afternoon.”
    She hesitated at the fridge and her forehead
pinched with a frown. Evidence? “The contact lens?”
    “Apparently it’s state of the art
top
secret
technology. I’m on my way back over to Morningside to
pick it up from that whiz kid I told you about. I’ll be taking it
straight to the state lab tomorrow. Outstanding call, Alex.”
    “That’s great.” She didn’t know why it
mattered or what exactly his obvious excitement meant, but she was
glad Hitch was happy about it.
    “Anyway,” he went on, his enthusiasm
palpable, “I thought maybe you’d let me take you to dinner on
Friday night to repay the good deed.”
    Oh, man. There it was. “I’d love to, Hitch,
but unfortunately I already have plans for Friday night.” It was
almost true. She’d planned to ask Shannon to go see that new movie
with her.
    “Maybe some time next week,” he offered.
    “Next week… sure.” She hated constantly
turning him down. He really was a nice guy.
    “Well, look. I’m getting another call. Night,
Alex.”
    “Goodnight, Hitch.”
    She wandered to the bedroom and plugged her
cell into the charger. After drawing the covers back, she reached
to close the curtains over her bed. Movement across the street
snagged her attention. Alex leaned closer to the glass. A figure
ducked into a black car. Male, she thought. The car didn’t belong
to one of her neighbors. Something sporty and foreign. The vehicle
remained dark and nothing else moved. Parking was a premium in this
neighborhood. The street was fair game for visitors. The hot car
could belong to a friend of any one of her neighbors.
    After another minute she closed the curtains
and turned out the light. It was late and she was tired. As she
drifted off to sleep she experienced the usual tiny glimmer of
loneliness… and then it was gone.
    Alex Jackson was not lonely.

Chapter 4
    Wyatt moved through the alley until he
reached the dumpster. He’d already taken care of the one street
lamp. His next goal was to disable the security camera pointed at
the entrance to the alley. Wyatt shook his head. If a security
company had installed this setup, the shop owner had been screwed.
No self-respecting criminal would enter from the main street side
of the alley.
    He scaled the dumpster. The top