Lucy sat on the Metro train pretending to read a book. It wasn’t the writer’s fault that she wasn’t engaged in the story. Any other ride and Lucy would have been absolutely riveted by the action-packed plot, but tonight all she could think about was a rapist going back to prison. When the subway train slowed as it approached her stop at Foggy Bottom, she shoved her unread paperback in her satchel and snapped the buckle without thought—a habit from self-defense training.
Muggers go for the easy mark. Don’t be an easy mark.
She stood and maneuvered toward the doors, eager to meet her brother. Patrick was leaving tomorrow morning for two weeks at Stanford University, where he was working on a security system for their new laboratory. He’d been living in D.C. only a month, she was just getting used to his comforting presence in her life, and already he was going away again.
As soon as the doors slid open, Lucy exited amid the throng of commuters. Starting up the stairs, the back of her neck crawled with the all-too-familiar sensation of being watched. She unconsciously stiffened and stumbled, bumping into the businesswoman in front of her. “Excuse me,” she said automatically, but the woman never looked back. Painful tension started at the base of her skull, spreading rapidly, her heart racing as if she were running a marathon. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she was fighting a full-fledged panic attack.
You’re in the damn Metro station! Of course people will see you.
But it was more than a casual perusal of her looks; someone’s eyes were focused on her. Dammit, hadn’t she just gone through this thirty minutes ago? When was it going to stop?
Hand shaking, she reached for her pepper spray while simultaneously thinking she was being ridiculous. Her vision was fading and she willed herself to breathe deeply. In and out. Keep moving forward, no one’s watching, you’re fine, just fine. She focused on the exit and calmly strode toward the stairs. Away from the eyes she couldn’t see.
“Lucy—”
She spun to face the voice and backed up at the same time, stumbling over a briefcase resting next to a businessman talking on his cell phone.
Cody Lorenzo reached out and grabbed her before she fell on her ass. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his face all cop, his eyes glancing left and right.
She pushed him back. “Were you following me?”
“I saw you get off the train. I was waiting for you because—”
“It was you.” She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples until the tension retreated into a tight ball in the back of her head. At least now she could think. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Watch me!”
“I didn’t mean to.”
She shook her head. It wasn’t fair to Cody, but she couldn’t shake the fear. She’d never be normal!
“I thought someone was following me. My fault,” she muttered.
He rubbed her arm. “I should have called. I just got off duty and saw your message, thought I’d take you to dinner to celebrate.”
She discreetly moved out of his reach and said, “I’m sorry, I’m meeting Patrick for dinner. Rain check?”
“Of course. Can I walk with you?”
“Isn’t it out of your way?”
“Not far.”
She relented, though didn’t feel wholly comfortable. She’d met Cody through WCF and they dated for nearly two years before she broke it off. Working with her ex-boyfriend on WCF projects was one thing; socializing with him was completely different.
He took her elbow to steer her through the Metro station and into the chill January mist. She pulled her raincoat tighter around her and tilted the collar up to shield her ears, shivering. Born and raised in San Diego, Lucy still wasn’t used to East Coast winters.
“It’ll snow tonight,” Cody said.
“And you know this because the weatherman is always right?”
“Because I was born and raised in Maryland. The first snowflake will fall before midnight.”
“You sound happy about this.”
He grinned as they crossed the street and turned left on Pennsylvania Avenue toward Georgetown. Cody looked and acted like a cop: broad-shouldered and physically fit, he moved with a swagger and arrogance that came as much from fear as from confidence. He had the Cuban good looks and manners that had Lucy’s mother singing his praises, with just enough wildness on the side that had Lucy enjoying his company. She had thought she’d loved him at one time, but she hadn’t known what love was. She only knew what love wasn’t.
It wasn’t Cody Lorenzo.
When she’d broken up with him, her family took it harder than Cody. They’d parted amicably, as friends, but Lucy knew Cody wanted to get back together. Lucy didn’t.
“Good work getting Prenter,” Cody said as they walked.
“We haven’t put him back in prison yet,” she said. “Do you think the judge will do it? They seem to be big on second, third, tenth chances these days.”
Cody grinned humorlessly. “Fifty-fifty. Though lately we’ve been having more success.”
Her stomach sank. Fifty-fifty. “If he has GHB or another drug on him, that increases our chances.”
“I’m hoping he will. If he’s truly going back to his old ways, he’ll keep doing what worked for him in the past. Possession of a date-rape drug would be hard even for some loony, feel-good judge to overlook. At the very least, Prenter will be spending one night in jail.”
“Small consolation.”
Cody stopped walking, and Lucy turned to look at him. He seemed angry. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure he finishes the full five years, Lucy. I promise.”
“I know—” She frowned, worried about her friend. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Frustrated. I had a domestic violence case earlier that really got to me.” He looked over her shoulder, off in his world, more pain than frustration in his eyes.
“Cody?”
He shook his head, not wanting to talk about it.
She said, “Remember what you told me when I couldn’t stop that teenager from meeting with her online boyfriend?” Lucy had befriended a thirteen-year-old in cyberspace, though WCF strongly discouraged it. Lucy did everything she could to stop the girl from making the same mistakes Lucy had made six years ago. She had failed.
Cody turned to her, gazing deep into her eyes as she spoke.
“You said, ‘We can’t save everyone, so we have to do what we can when we can.’ That changed my life, gave me something to have faith in again. We’re doing what we can. At WCF and on the job.”
His intense stare began to make Lucy feel uncomfortable. Maybe she should have let Cody be angry and frustrated, not tried to talk to him about it. She didn’t want to lead him on, give him any ideas that she wanted to restart their relationship. She smiled, squeezed his hand, then dropped it and started walking. “I’m going to be late meeting Patrick,” she said.
“I’m going to cut through Rock Creek Park to get home.”
She stopped walking and looked back at him. “You sure?”
“It’s only a couple more blocks to Clyde’s. I wanted to make sure you were okay with this Prenter thing, and of course you are. You’re an amazing woman, Lucy.” He stepped forward and kissed her cheek. “See you Saturday at the WCF fund-raiser.”
Cody turned down the pathway through Rock Creek Park and raised his hand in farewell before disappearing from view. She walked briskly toward Clyde’s, already late.
Lucy still had that creepy feeling someone was staring at her. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one even remotely suspicious was there. She stopped, looking in every direction, the street lamps providing ample illumination. The only people not walking stood on the corner waiting for the light to change. No one seemed to be watching her specifically.