At least her makeup and hair were done. Throwing on the outfit she laid out last night would take two minutes, racing down the three flights of stairs and along the sidewalk to her car two and a half, and the drive to the office ten—fifteen if traffic was snarled.
“You can’t go to work. You have to call the police and report this.”
Grace tugged her skirt over her hips and zipped it, frowning. “Why?”
Lisette blinked. “Because your home was broken into, cher. The police are here to protect you. Let them do their job.”
She snorted and pulled her blouse over her head, muttering, “They wouldn’t know how to do their job with a flashlight, map and CliffsNotes.”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t see the point.”
Lips tightening, Lisette planted her hands on the generous curves of her hips. “What’s wrong with you? You act like it don’ madda’! I’m a fixin’ to do it myself.”
Grace winced. Whenever Lisette’s Louisiana drawl thickened, the poo was about to hit the fan. If she started spewing French, it was time to hit the deck. Grace slipped on her shoes and jewelry, stalling. The amount of faith she had in the police could be measured in a thimble, thanks to her childhood experiences.
“Lisie, you know how my boss is. I have a presentation this morning and I absolutely cannot be late. I’ll call the police,” she tried not to gag on the lie, “the moment I get home.”
“Promise me.”
“Cross my heart.”
Lisette stepped out of the doorway and Grace flew past her. Flipped off the coffeepot, snatched up her purse and briefcase, and yanked the door open.
Lisette zapped her with a gimlet-eyed stare as she walked out. “I’m gonna be checking on you tonight.”
Grace smiled. “Thank you.”
Her friend disappeared into her own condo. Grace quickly locked her door, turned and froze. Back pressed to the door, she flicked her gaze up and down the open-air hallway. A stranger had likely stood in the very same spot before stealing inside her condo while she slept. Oblivious.
Tears stung her eyes. Her nails dug into her palm. She took a deep breath and blinked the moisture away. Life wouldn’t wait while she had a meltdown.
Forcefully shoving away from the door, she jogged down the hall. She almost tripped on the stairs in her low heels and forced herself to slow down. A goose egg on her forehead would not be a good look in the board meeting scheduled for…a quick glance at her watch nearly made her trip again. Holy rosebuds. Twenty minutes to get her butt in her office and go over the monthly report on construction progress and actual cost versus estimates before her presentation to Matthew Duncan.
Having her boss’s steely-eyed gaze focused solely on her for the space of ten minutes tried her nerves every time.
She refused to think about what it did to other parts of her body.
“Oh, Gracie. There you are.”
Oh, no. Not now. She didn’t have time. Not to mention her hands were still shaking.
Grace squeezed her eyes closed, reminded herself that she adored her neighbor, plastered on a smile and swung around. Mrs. Freeman’s massive Great Dane strolled beside her, matching his regal walk to the old lady’s shuffling gait.
“Mrs. Freeman.” Grace scanned the area for strangers. No one else was in sight. Grace relaxed a little. “How are you?”
“Just fine, dear. Off to work?”
Apollo pranced, his tongue lolling and eager black eyes focused on Grace. He never once tugged on the leash anchoring him to Mrs. Freeman.
“Yes.”
Grace sighed softly and surrendered, scratching Apollo’s head. He heaved a big doggie sigh of pleasure and leaned into her.
“What are you up to today? Breakfast with your boyfriend?”
Mrs. Freeman glowed with pleasure. “Gracie, you know Roger isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Mr. Gray adores you, and you know it. He takes you out to breakfast as often as you let him, and he’d probably take you to lunch and dinner too. Last week he even took Apollo to his vet appointment when you weren’t feeling well. If that isn’t a sure sign of devotion, I don’t know what is.”
“Roger and I are just friends. He loved his wife, and he still grieves her passing. We fill a space in one another’s life, that’s all.”
“If you say so.” She rubbed Apollo’s back. “We know better, don’t we, Apollo?”
Mrs. Freeman chuckled. “You’d better skedaddle on to work, dear. You don’t want that ferocious boss of yours getting on your case first thing.”
Grace pretended a shiver. “Heavens, no.”
“Some men hide a big heart behind a tough demeanor. My George was that way.” Mrs. Freeman’s eyes went misty. “Tough as a pit bull on the outside, soft and affectionate as an old tabby cat on the inside. Your Mr. Duncan might just need a good woman to tame him.”
“Maybe, but that good woman won’t be me.” Grace glanced at the parking lot then did a double-take. Her car wasn’t in its usual spot. The pit of her stomach fell. “Where’s my car?”
Mrs. Freeman edged her walker forward. “There it is, dear. Across the way.”
Grace followed the direction of the old woman’s trembling, wrinkled finger. Her brand- new tango-red Honda Accord Crosstour sat on the far side of the parking lot beneath a big tree. She blinked, her pulse skittering. Her lips tightened. What the hell?
Mrs. Freeman tutted. “The carport is safer than that old tree.”
“Um-hmm.”
She clutched the handle of her briefcase tight enough to leave finger imprints. No way had she parked there last night. She was never that tired. There’d better not be a single hairline scratch on the finish, or someone was going down. As a practical joke, the humor escaped her. As something more…She didn’t want to think about anything more. She scanned their surroundings again.
Casual expression firmly in place, she glanced at the elderly woman. “Have you heard about any weird break-ins in the complex?”
Mrs. Freeman’s smile disappeared and a little frown crinkled the white skin between her slim brows. “No, dear. Why? Is something wrong?”
Grace forced her stiff cheeks into a smile. “Goodness, no. Just something I overheard in the hallway the other day. I’m sure it’s nothing. You know how kids are.” Leaning down, she planted a soft kiss on Mrs. Freeman’s age-weathered cheek and patted Apollo. “Lovely to see you both. I’ll be by to take Apollo for a walk when I get home.”
She glanced back as she reached the parking lot. Mrs. Freeman’s smile was troubled. Guilt bit hard. Grace waved at Roger Gray as he eased his big Lincoln to a stop near the curb. So he was taking Mrs. Freeman out for breakfast.
As she neared her car, the hair on her neck rose. She glanced around. No face peered from the bushes, no curtains twitched and nothing shifted in the cool morning air. Rubbing her neck with an unsteady hand, she circled the car. Not so much as a fingerprint marred the gleaming finish. She tried the handle. Locked. Rummaging in her purse for the keys, so jittery she may as well have drank the whole untouched pot of coffee, she glanced around again.
A chilly spring breeze ruffled the trees. Shadows skittered for cover.
Grace shivered and hit the remote button to unlock the Honda. With a quick look in the backseat, she tossed in her purse and briefcase, slid into the driver’s seat, slammed the door