Kirsten was making a sandwich. An open mayonnaise bottle sat next to a loaf of multi-grain bread.
“They’re comfy to sleep in,” she said.
“You sleep in these?”
She smiled coyly without looking up. “Sometimes.”
Now he felt even more weird.
Kirsten carried the mayo bottle and a plate covered in plastic wrap to the refrigerator. “You said that guy grabbed you before you had any dinner,” she said, “so I made you a sandwich. Is ham and cheese okay?”
Rob’s gut rumbled. “Unbelievably okay. Thanks.”
“Want some milk with it?”
“Sure.”
“Why don’t you take the sandwich into the living room and I’ll be right in.”
Music poured quietly from the stereo speakers that bracketed the couch. A record spun on the turntable. The Police. Every Breath You Take. Rob looked down and smiled when he saw the battered old plastic milk carton full of record albums still sitting in its usual place.
He sat on the couch, deposited the plate on the end table, picked up half the sandwich, took a huge bite and almost groaned out loud with pleasure. Kirsten put a glass next to the plate and sat down beside him.
Rob swallowed and said, “I see you’re still playing your mother’s old albums.”
She shrugged. “Same old Kirsten, I guess.”
He attacked the sandwich again.
“I don’t know if all the blood will come out of your clothes,” Kirsten said.
Rob reached for the other half of the sandwich. “Don’t worry about it. I’m still tempted to throw them away. I don’t really want any reminders of this night.”
The next song on the album started playing. King of Pain. How appropriate.
Kirsten chewed on one side of her lip, her face growing pensive.
“You didn’t do it, did you?” she said.
Rob paused in mid-chew and stared at her, his mouth too full to respond.
“The thing at the bank, I mean,” she said. “You’re not the one who messed up those bank accounts.”
Once his mouth was empty, Rob said, “What makes you say that?”
Kirsten rubbed her hands together in her lap. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”
“You must have some sort of reason.”
“You,” she said, “and Tim.”
Rob just looked at her, his brow furrowed.
“When I heard you were arrested,” she said, “my first thought was, that can’t be right. Rob wouldn’t do that. Then … the timing bothered me, you know? First I see Tim act all happy about the attacks, then the very next day you get arrested and Lesley dumps you.”
“Coincidences happen all the time.”
“Or he knew it was going to happen.”
“There’s no way he could have known that unless he was the one who—” Rob stopped and blinked.
“Exactly,” Kirsten said. “That’s what’s been bugging me.”
“Look, someone made good and sure all the evidence pointed to me. They had to work at it — break into my apartment, use my computer, stuff like that. Even if Tim did sabotage the computer, why wouldn’t he pick someone else for the fall guy? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“So you didn’t do it.”
Rob’s pulse was tripping along at high speed. He still held the second half of the sandwich in his hand.
“No,” he said, “and I can’t believe Tim did either.”
“I already told you he wanted you out of the way.”
“Because of Lesley?”
“Uh huh.”
“That’s crazy. He and Lesley dated for, like, two weeks back in high school. No big deal. And he’s one of my best friends.”
“You may think he is,” she said, “but he sure doesn’t act that way when he sees the two of you together, especially when he doesn’t realize anyone’s watching.”
Rob put the sandwich back on the plate. He didn’t feel hungry anymore.
“Besides,” Kirsten continued, “not many people know you and Tim like I do. I can see Tim doing something whacko. But you?” She shook her head. “Doesn’t fit.”
“Not much to go on.”
“Call it woman’s intuition.”
“So I’m supposed to go to the police and tell them my friend is framing me, and my only reason is woman’s intuition.”
Kirsten looked down into her lap where her hands continued their wrestling match.
“I don’t know anything, all right?” She looked up again, directly into Rob’s eyes. “But I couldn’t stand thinking about this stuff without telling you. I thought you might know some other things and if we put them together … well, who knows.”
Rob took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Whoever did this probably works at the bank.”
“Which would fit—”
“Tim. Yeah, I know, and a bunch of other people as well.”
“Would you have thought any of them would do this to you?”
“No,” Rob said.
“So whoever it is, it’s going to be hard to believe.”
“Yeah, but … Tim?”
The turntable clicked off as the record came to the end. Kirsten got up to put on a different album. Rob could smell her perfume. The fragrance brought back memories of the many lazy weekends he and Kirsten had spent together when they were a couple. The funky precision of Supertramp started playing, still at low volume. They had made love to that album many a time.
“That album brings back memories,” Rob said when Kirsten plumped back down on the couch.
Kirsten smiled. “I guess it does.”
An awkward moment passed while they both looked anywhere but at each other.
“Know something?” Rob said.
“What.”
“You’re the only one who believes I’m innocent … well, except for Dad. But parents are supposed to have faith in you. I think they sign some sort of contract when you’re born.”
“Unless you became a whole new person from the guy I used to know,” she said, “there’s no way you could do something like that.”
A lump formed in Rob’s throat. His face felt warm.
“Thanks,” he said.
She nodded and they spent a few more moments in silence. It seemed less awkward this time.
“Where will you go tonight?” she said.
“Good question.”
“You can stay here if you want.”
Rob thought about going back out into the storm and decided he wasn’t going anywhere.
The Buick turned into the parking lot of Rob’s apartment building and cruised slowly into an empty slot. The engine shut off but no one emerged from the car. Ray Landry sat in the darkness for a while, studying the lay of the land with the engine ticking occasionally as it cooled. Once he was satisfied the place was as deserted as he could hope for, he got out and walked over to Rob’s Pathfinder. He reached one hand briefly inside a rear wheel well, and then returned to his own car.
Landry picked up a GPS device from the passenger seat and placed it on his dash. He clicked it on and a small screen glowed with a map showing Landry’s location. The map also indicated the position of Rob’s car, which Landry’s device received by radio signal from the unit hidden in the wheel well of the Pathfinder. The radio had a range of six or seven miles, which was plenty to allow Landry to tail Rob around the city if need be. At the moment both indicators showed the same location since the two vehicles were so close together.
The Buick purred to life. Landry drove a couple of blocks away, pulled over to the side of the street and checked again. The map now showed the cars in two different locations, along with a readout in the corner showing the distance between them.
He nodded in the darkness, turned off the device and rolled into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE