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Authors: A.R. Winters
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grandmother.”
I narrowed my eyes, and next to me, Stone coughed suspiciously. Nanna was wearing a sensible mid-length dress and black orthopedic shoes. She’s my Nanna and I love her, but she definitely looks old enough to be a grandmother. She looks old enough to be Nathan’s grandmother; maybe even his great-grandmother.
Nanna smiled and said, “Oh, stop.”
I looked at Nathan. “What’re you doing in Vegas?”
He glanced at me with his long-lashed, big blue eyes and told me a story about dropping out of college to play professional poker.
“Hmm,” I said. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks.” He sounded sincere, and I tried not to roll my eyes.
“We should go,” I told Nanna. “Good luck with the rest of the hands.”
Chapter Eleven
Half-way down the Strip, Stone’s phone went off, and he looked at it and growled something indecipherable.
“I have to take off,” he said. “It’s an emergency. You’re going to be ok?”
I smiled and tried to look happier than I felt. “Of course! You go ahead. You didn’t need to come with me to The Tremonte, either.”
He said goodbye, looking like he didn’t believe me, and the truth was that the night was making me nervous. It was still too early for the crowds to go home, but as soon as I took a few steps into the side-street I’ve always used as a shortcut, I felt the shadows pressing in. There were enough streetlights to make the place seem well-lit, but I looked over my shoulder every five seconds until I got to my condo. Once I was safely inside the lobby, I decided that for the time being, I’d be taking the longer East Flamingo Road walk instead.
There were no new envelopes under my door, and a quick check revealed that , thankfully, there were no strangers lurking inside either. I made myself a cup of decaf, but I was still too jittery from my walk back home to finish it.
I slept fitfully that night. It was hard to believe that I’d run into Green Eyes again, and once again, he’d disappeared into thin air. I was glad there were no more creepy photos of me, but my thoughts kept returning to the way Green Eyes had walked away from me.
I woke up early the next morning, and the condo was still devoid of any new mysterious white envelopes. I had a glimmer of hope that maybe whoever had taken my photographs had mixed me up with someone else, or maybe they’d just gotten tired of stalking me. For whatever reason, maybe I was off the hook.
After breakfast, I gave Stacey a call. “Did you run those license-plate numbers?” I asked.
“Yes, do you have a pen and paper handy? Ok, here we go. There are six red Ferraris in Nevada that have license plates starting with those three numbers. Three belong to luxury car rental services. Two were garaged that day, and one was rented by a guy – Donald Hughes – who drove out to the desert with three of his friends. The friends all say they were riding around in the wee hours of the morning, and GPS navigation on the car matches up. One of the cars belongs to a resident who was in Toronto on holiday. The other two cars belong to Nevada residents, both of whom were at home at that time. We’re pretty sure they’re not lying, but there’s no way to prove one hundred percent that they’re not. The first car’s registered to a Collette Hill, and the second’s registered to a Jack Weber.”
“Somebody could’ve broken into one of the car rental garages and taken a car out for a joyride.”
“Not likely. Alarms would go off, and the rental agencies would know. I’m sorry – maybe you got the numbers mixed up?”
I sighed. “Maybe I did. Oh well, it was worth a shot.”
Once again, I felt like I’d come close to learning Green Eyes’ identity, and once again, he’d slipped away.
My next call was to Crystal’s sister, Carol. When she answered her phone, I introduced myself, and she said, “Yes, that boyfriend of hers, Max, said you’d be calling.”
There was an awkward silence
I narrowed my eyes, and next to me, Stone coughed suspiciously. Nanna was wearing a sensible mid-length dress and black orthopedic shoes. She’s my Nanna and I love her, but she definitely looks old enough to be a grandmother. She looks old enough to be Nathan’s grandmother; maybe even his great-grandmother.
Nanna smiled and said, “Oh, stop.”
I looked at Nathan. “What’re you doing in Vegas?”
He glanced at me with his long-lashed, big blue eyes and told me a story about dropping out of college to play professional poker.
“Hmm,” I said. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks.” He sounded sincere, and I tried not to roll my eyes.
“We should go,” I told Nanna. “Good luck with the rest of the hands.”
Chapter Eleven
Half-way down the Strip, Stone’s phone went off, and he looked at it and growled something indecipherable.
“I have to take off,” he said. “It’s an emergency. You’re going to be ok?”
I smiled and tried to look happier than I felt. “Of course! You go ahead. You didn’t need to come with me to The Tremonte, either.”
He said goodbye, looking like he didn’t believe me, and the truth was that the night was making me nervous. It was still too early for the crowds to go home, but as soon as I took a few steps into the side-street I’ve always used as a shortcut, I felt the shadows pressing in. There were enough streetlights to make the place seem well-lit, but I looked over my shoulder every five seconds until I got to my condo. Once I was safely inside the lobby, I decided that for the time being, I’d be taking the longer East Flamingo Road walk instead.
There were no new envelopes under my door, and a quick check revealed that , thankfully, there were no strangers lurking inside either. I made myself a cup of decaf, but I was still too jittery from my walk back home to finish it.
I slept fitfully that night. It was hard to believe that I’d run into Green Eyes again, and once again, he’d disappeared into thin air. I was glad there were no more creepy photos of me, but my thoughts kept returning to the way Green Eyes had walked away from me.
I woke up early the next morning, and the condo was still devoid of any new mysterious white envelopes. I had a glimmer of hope that maybe whoever had taken my photographs had mixed me up with someone else, or maybe they’d just gotten tired of stalking me. For whatever reason, maybe I was off the hook.
After breakfast, I gave Stacey a call. “Did you run those license-plate numbers?” I asked.
“Yes, do you have a pen and paper handy? Ok, here we go. There are six red Ferraris in Nevada that have license plates starting with those three numbers. Three belong to luxury car rental services. Two were garaged that day, and one was rented by a guy – Donald Hughes – who drove out to the desert with three of his friends. The friends all say they were riding around in the wee hours of the morning, and GPS navigation on the car matches up. One of the cars belongs to a resident who was in Toronto on holiday. The other two cars belong to Nevada residents, both of whom were at home at that time. We’re pretty sure they’re not lying, but there’s no way to prove one hundred percent that they’re not. The first car’s registered to a Collette Hill, and the second’s registered to a Jack Weber.”
“Somebody could’ve broken into one of the car rental garages and taken a car out for a joyride.”
“Not likely. Alarms would go off, and the rental agencies would know. I’m sorry – maybe you got the numbers mixed up?”
I sighed. “Maybe I did. Oh well, it was worth a shot.”
Once again, I felt like I’d come close to learning Green Eyes’ identity, and once again, he’d slipped away.
My next call was to Crystal’s sister, Carol. When she answered her phone, I introduced myself, and she said, “Yes, that boyfriend of hers, Max, said you’d be calling.”
There was an awkward silence
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