Read Online The Key by Jennifer Sturman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Sturman
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nursing.
“I guess you’re just a goatee magnet, Hil,” said Jane.
“I know. It’s a curse.”
“Maybe you should stop fighting destiny,” I suggested, relieved I was no longer the topic of discussion. But I was distracted, too. I’d seen the man before, and recently, but I couldn’t remember where.
“It would probably feel nice and scratchy against your face,” said Emma.
When I looked up again, a few minutes later, he was gone.
We went to a nearby restaurant for dinner after drinks. I was exhausted, but it was such a rare treat to have all of my friends in town that I lingered with them over the meal. We said our goodbyes on the pavement outside, making plans to get together later in the week. Jane was staying with Emma at the loft she still owned in the city, and Hilary was staying with Luisa at her family’s apartment, so I was awarded the first cab since I was on my own.
I gave the driver my address on East 79th Street, and as he turned up Madison Avenue, I dug my BlackBerry out of my bag and used it to check messages, squinting at the small screen. There was only one voice mail, timestamped 7:05 p.m., and I listened to it as we sped past Barney’s.
“Rachel. It’s Dahlia Crenshaw. Sorry to bother you, especially after the day we all had, but I was watching the news, and I saw something that—well, it got me wondering about something, and I wanted to talk to you about it. Will you phone me when you get this?”
She left her mobile number.
I dialed it in and pressed Send, but then I heard the beep of call waiting. I fumbled a bit with the various buttons. “Hold on,” I said to whoever was calling as I tried to flip back to the call I’d placed.
“Dahlia?”
“Uh, no. It’s Jake.”
“Did I call you?” I asked, confused.
“No—I called you.”
“Whoops, hold on.” Jake must have been the incoming call. I pressed another few buttons but landed on Jake again. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Still trying to master call waiting.”
“No problem. Is it too late to phone?”
“No, of course not. You know I’m a night owl. What’s up?”
“You seemed pretty shaken up today. I wanted to make sure you’re doing all right.”
“I am. Thank you. That’s really kind of you to ask.”
“Glad to hear it. And no more anonymous e-mails?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t checked that account yet. I’m actually in a cab right now, on my way home.”
“And you thought I’d be Dahlia?”
I explained about her message. “I was just calling her back, and then you called.”
“I wonder what she wanted?”
“She said it was about something she’d seen on the news. But maybe she just wanted to talk. Who knows? She must be pretty shaken up, too.”
“Who could blame her? When did she call?”
“A while ago. Around seven.” Then I checked my watch. It was after midnight, and she was probably long since in bed—it was a good thing my call hadn’t gone through. “I’ll catch up with her in the office tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Anyhow, I’ll let you go. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Thanks, Jake.”
The apartment was silent when I let myself in, and a quick peek into the bedroom showed me that Peter was fast asleep, although he’d left the lamp burning on the nightstand on my side of the bed. I returned to the study and waited impatiently as the computer booted up. My conversation with Jake had reminded me I needed to check the new e-mail account we’d set up the previous evening.
I entered my user name and password and waited expectantly for a message to appear. But Man of the People hadn’t written back.
I felt both relieved and disappointed. It would have been nice to have some answers about the Thunderbolt deal. Gallagher’s death had created enough intrigue for one day.
I undressed as quietly as I could and slid into bed beside Peter, careful not to wake him.
And all of my late nights and early mornings paid off
“I guess you’re just a goatee magnet, Hil,” said Jane.
“I know. It’s a curse.”
“Maybe you should stop fighting destiny,” I suggested, relieved I was no longer the topic of discussion. But I was distracted, too. I’d seen the man before, and recently, but I couldn’t remember where.
“It would probably feel nice and scratchy against your face,” said Emma.
When I looked up again, a few minutes later, he was gone.
We went to a nearby restaurant for dinner after drinks. I was exhausted, but it was such a rare treat to have all of my friends in town that I lingered with them over the meal. We said our goodbyes on the pavement outside, making plans to get together later in the week. Jane was staying with Emma at the loft she still owned in the city, and Hilary was staying with Luisa at her family’s apartment, so I was awarded the first cab since I was on my own.
I gave the driver my address on East 79th Street, and as he turned up Madison Avenue, I dug my BlackBerry out of my bag and used it to check messages, squinting at the small screen. There was only one voice mail, timestamped 7:05 p.m., and I listened to it as we sped past Barney’s.
“Rachel. It’s Dahlia Crenshaw. Sorry to bother you, especially after the day we all had, but I was watching the news, and I saw something that—well, it got me wondering about something, and I wanted to talk to you about it. Will you phone me when you get this?”
She left her mobile number.
I dialed it in and pressed Send, but then I heard the beep of call waiting. I fumbled a bit with the various buttons. “Hold on,” I said to whoever was calling as I tried to flip back to the call I’d placed.
“Dahlia?”
“Uh, no. It’s Jake.”
“Did I call you?” I asked, confused.
“No—I called you.”
“Whoops, hold on.” Jake must have been the incoming call. I pressed another few buttons but landed on Jake again. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Still trying to master call waiting.”
“No problem. Is it too late to phone?”
“No, of course not. You know I’m a night owl. What’s up?”
“You seemed pretty shaken up today. I wanted to make sure you’re doing all right.”
“I am. Thank you. That’s really kind of you to ask.”
“Glad to hear it. And no more anonymous e-mails?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t checked that account yet. I’m actually in a cab right now, on my way home.”
“And you thought I’d be Dahlia?”
I explained about her message. “I was just calling her back, and then you called.”
“I wonder what she wanted?”
“She said it was about something she’d seen on the news. But maybe she just wanted to talk. Who knows? She must be pretty shaken up, too.”
“Who could blame her? When did she call?”
“A while ago. Around seven.” Then I checked my watch. It was after midnight, and she was probably long since in bed—it was a good thing my call hadn’t gone through. “I’ll catch up with her in the office tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Anyhow, I’ll let you go. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Thanks, Jake.”
The apartment was silent when I let myself in, and a quick peek into the bedroom showed me that Peter was fast asleep, although he’d left the lamp burning on the nightstand on my side of the bed. I returned to the study and waited impatiently as the computer booted up. My conversation with Jake had reminded me I needed to check the new e-mail account we’d set up the previous evening.
I entered my user name and password and waited expectantly for a message to appear. But Man of the People hadn’t written back.
I felt both relieved and disappointed. It would have been nice to have some answers about the Thunderbolt deal. Gallagher’s death had created enough intrigue for one day.
I undressed as quietly as I could and slid into bed beside Peter, careful not to wake him.
And all of my late nights and early mornings paid off
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