Terri Reed - Chasing Shadows

She parked in her usual spot and got out, just as Gabe halted beside her and rolled down his window.

“This is where you live?” His dubious expression was priceless.

With a sweeping gesture at the two-story warehouse converted to loft apartments, she said, “Home sweet home.”

“I’d have expected you to live in Beacon Hill near your parents.”

She gave him a tight smile. “This is what I can afford and it’s a safe neighborhood.”

He leaned an elbow on the window ledge. “What? Mommy and Daddy don’t pay?”

Anger swept through her. This was exactly why she went by Kris Worth for her professional work, because people like Gabe expected her to live off her parents. “No. They don’t. Everything I need is close at hand. I have easy access to downtown and the park is within walking distance. And I have lots of space for my business. The other residents are a good group of people. We’re very close-knit.”

“Interesting,” he commented with a bemused half smile.

Uncomfortable with the focus on her, she asked, “What are you going to do about Frank? And Carl and Lena?”

He shrugged. “Nothing tonight. I’ll look into the situation more tomorrow.”

At least he wasn’t blowing her off. “Good. Let me know what you find,” she said and hurried inside.

Before turning on her lights, she went to the front window of her living area. Gabe sat in his car, his gaze trained on the building. Probably waiting to see which floor was hers. If she didn’t turn on the light, would he come charging up to see if she was okay? The thought intrigued her and made her heart pound. What would she do if he did?

She reached over to the table lamp and flipped on the light.

Gabe drove away. Yep, he’d been waiting to make sure she got into her apartment safely. A pleased rush filled her. It was kind of nice having him worry about her like that. Of course, he was just doing his job, she reminded herself. Protecting people was what he did for a living. She was just one of those people.

She took her camera to the back half of the apartment, which had been converted to a photography studio. She’d had walls removed, the floor redone with hardwood and had lighting equipment mounted in strategic places. The remodel had used her entire savings, but the space worked well. And she loved her life here.

In one corner was her processing station. Gabe may not think there was anything more they could do tonight, but Kris knew otherwise. She hooked up the camera to the desktop computer and downloaded the pictures she’d taken.

Within a few minutes she was viewing the shots of Frank and the mysterious man in the alley. She had a clear shot of Frank handing an envelope to the man. Another of the man sliding the contents into his hand. She zoomed the picture in.

“Gotcha!” she stated to the photo. With satisfaction and anticipation, she grabbed the phone and called BPD and asked for Gabe, figuring he’d be back at his desk by now.

She was told he was off duty. So he’d been investigating on his own time. She liked that. She insisted the desk sergeant get a message to him as soon as possible. He couldn’t promise her anything.

Deciding she’d have to wait until morning to further the investigation, she readied herself for bed. Her sleeping area was cordoned off by a sliding divider. A four-poster bed, brought from her parent’s home, sat in the center of the room. A small vanity and chair sat beside the window that overlooked the courtyard behind the building. A flowered love seat with a fat tabby cat curled on a cushion took up the rest of the wall space. Just as Kris was crawling beneath the down comforter, the phone rang.

“Yes?”

“Kristina, it’s Gabe. I got a message you called. What’s wrong?”

Kris smiled at the concern in his voice. “Nothing’s wrong. But I have something to show you. Can I e-mail some pictures?”

“Can it wait until morning?”

Anxious to show him her find, she hesitated. “I suppose. It’s just you said we needed proof that Frank was doing something illegal before you would question him, right?”

“Right,” he replied cautiously.

“Well, I think I have the proof you need.”

“Kristina, listen to me. Don’t do anything or say anything about this until I get there in the morning.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You want to come here?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” A thrill of anticipation skipped over her skin. “First thing?”

“First thing. And, Kristina?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure you lock your doors.”

“I always do,” she answered before hanging up. But just to be sure, she double-checked. Sure enough, locked.

Back at her bed, she snuggled beneath the covers, convinced that tomorrow she’d be able to put Gram’s mind to rest.

Hopefully, with Gabe’s help.

The next morning, Gabe pulled his wool sport coat shut against the brisk air as he left his car and walked to Kristina’s apartment building. He still couldn’t believe she lived here.

He pushed the buzzer next to K. Worth. A moment later the door unlocked and he went inside. The large entryway was sparkling clean. The tiled floor shone with polish and the silver row of mailboxes looked brand-new. So much for slumming.

An elevator took him to the second floor. Kristina’s apartment was at the far end. A large wreath sporting a red bow hung around the peep hole. He knocked on the steel door.

The door slid open. She stood there with a smile on her face. “Hi.”

“Good morning,” he managed to say past the tightness in his throat.

He shouldn’t feel this pleased to see her. This was police business, not a social call. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He really should have just had her e-mail the pictures, but he’d been curious. He wanted to know more about the woman she’d become.

Her faded jeans rode low on her hips. A bright coral, formfitting, long-sleeved sweater accentuated her curves. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a strange-looking rope with multicolored beads hanging down at the end. Mascara darkened her lashes and her lips were glossy. Inviting. His mouth went dry as memories of last night’s escapade stormed through his mind. He should have kissed her and not worried about the consequences.

“Come in,” she said with a sweep of her hand.

Forcing himself to focus, he stepped into her apartment and realized he’d misjudged her. He’d expected a contemporary setting with high-end furniture and expensive decorations. His gaze cataloged the interior. The walled-in, small living room looked cozy with well-worn leather seating and a scarred coffee table strewn with photography magazines. In the corner stood a small Christmas tree, the lights twinkling.

A beautifully carved, yet beat-up armoire sat against one wall. Its opened doors revealed an older television, a stereo and lots of books. To his right was a small eating area and an even smaller kitchen. And he assumed the closed, sliding partition led to her bedroom and bath.

“This way.” Kristina walked toward a curtain, which she pushed aside and motioned him through.

The enormity of the loft-style photography studio surprised him. A large bay window dominated the far wall. Light stands and a stack of props took up one corner. A changing area and a workstation occupied the other two corners. The middle was open and a tripod with a camera sat at the ready.

Large photographs in minimalistic frames were stacked in a corner.

“Great space,” he commented. He walked over to the framed pictures. The one face-out was of what looked like an African village.

“Thank you. It took me a while to get it the way I wanted.”

“You did a good job.” He motioned to the photos. “Did you take these?”