a grilled cheese sandwich. She’d eaten half, but now the small meal felt like a lead ball in her stomach.
She breathed deeply.
“Lucy?”
April’s voice sounded far away.
“Are you okay?”
“I–I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I’ll take you to the bathroom.”
Lucy wanted to tell her no, she was fine to go alone, but instead she nodded. April took her arm and led her toward the bathrooms to the right of the vestibule.
Two uniformed officers brought in a flurry of snow as they stepped into the entry. The cold coming in from the outside felt remarkable to Lucy. “April, I’m just going to step outside for a minute. I think I just need air. I’ll be in before communion.”
“I can go with you,” April offered.
Lucy shook her head. “One minute-it’ll clear my head.”
“I’ll wait here.” April spoke softly to the officers while Lucy stepped outside.
The cold air did clear her head, and she watched the snowfall, thicker than when she’d arrived thirty minutes ago. She still felt ill, but she rarely got sick. She figured it must be grief. She missed Cody. She loved him-not in the way he wanted her to, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t cared for him deeply.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the cold.
Though her skin was flushed, she was cold outside. She turned to go back inside, and the door was farther away that she’d thought. Her black sweater was damp and white from the snow, but she didn’t remember walking away from the doors. Everything was too bright-the snow, the lights in the entry, radiating colors and razor edges.
Something was wrong with her, but she knew she wasn’t sick. It was something else, and panic rose as her heart pounded. She couldn’t think coherently. She opened her mouth to call for April, but only a squeak came from her throat. The church and snow spun around her, faster and faster, and she thought she was a spinning top. Around and around and around …
… she was lying in the snow. She’d fallen … but she was at the bottom of the stairs. How? The streetlight above her beckoned her, a hand, as if God Himself was taking her up to Heaven.
She wanted to go. She was so sad, so lost.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest and she focused on the steady, too-fast beat. Did her heart really beat this fast?
She tried to stand but couldn’t. Her hands dug into the newly fallen snow. She reached for her phone, but it wasn’t in her pocket. It wasn’t there because she’d left her coat in the pew in the church, and her phone was in that pocket.
She wanted to cry, but no sound, no tears, came. She had no control over her body, as if she were paralyzed. She desperately wanted Sean to pick her up and carry her to his bed. To hold her. To kiss her. To make love to her. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about the future, the possibilities, but Sean had walked into her life and she didn’t want him to leave.
She’d crawl. She could crawl home. No, that was two miles away. April would wonder why she was outside for so long. April … who was April? She felt she should know, but she couldn’t remember. What was she thinking? Crawling home? Where was home? Did she have a home?
She tried to call out again but couldn’t. Her mind swirled, as if in a blender, her head aching, her stomach clenching. She was so hot, she stared at the blinding snow and expected to see steam rise from where her fingers clawed the ice.
Who was Sean?
“Let me help you up.”
The voice sounded a million miles away. She rolled over, her body heavy, lying in the snow. She looked up, but didn’t see anything, only a vague shape and a gloved hand.
“Thank you,” she tried to say, but her tongue was thick and dry.
She couldn’t remember her address.
She was lifted off the ground. She thought she heard her name from far, far away …
A female voice calling, “Lucy? Lucy, where are you?”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Sean and Kate pounded on the glass door of the florist shop. It was five after seven and they had closed.
He’d screwed up. Why hadn’t he pushed the florist earlier for a positive ID? He could have come back with Lorenzo’s picture and verified the receipt that showed that he’d bought the roses. Why had he believed it so readily? Because Lorenzo was obviously still in love with Lucy? Because he was her ex-boyfriend?
Mallory could be lying through his teeth about not being Lucy’s stalker, but Sean wasn’t taking any chances. There was too much doubt, and far too much at stake.
Kate called out to the woman behind the counter. “FBI-we have an emergency.” She held her badge up to the glass.
Lucy hadn’t answered her cell phone, but she’d probably silenced it during Mass. He sent her a text message and hoped she’d read it.
If Noah had called thirty minutes earlier, Sean wouldn’t have left Lucy at the church. He’d have stayed with her, even though she told him not to. But he’d thought she was safe. Mallory and the others were behind bars and no one was going to hurt her.
He pictured her hurt and scared, and his mind snapped into focus. Self-pity wouldn’t help.
He needed to think clearly.
“Dammit,” Kate muttered when the woman frowned at them and didn’t come to the door. Kate pounded harder. “Police! Emergency!”
“Maybe she doesn’t speak English,” Sean said.
“She speaks English,” Kate said. “She just doesn’t want to be bothered.” She hit the door one last time. “Police!”
The woman shuffled to the door. She unlocked it and cracked it open. “We’re closed.”
“FBI, we have some questions about a customer.”
The woman frowned. “I can’t help you.”
“Yes you can. You have security tapes.” Kate pointed to the cameras. “Were you working Monday morning?”
“Yes, but-”
“I have a couple of pictures for you to look at. Please let us come in.” It sounded more like a command than a request.
The woman hesitated, then sighed and let them in. “My daughter said someone was asking about a delivery. She’s not supposed to talk about our customers.”
Kate strode to the counter. “On Monday, you had a customer calling himself Cody Lorenzo, who ordered a dozen red roses to be delivered to Lucy Kincaid on Volta Place.”
“Yes. He paid cash.”
