Page 110 of Crow
Angie swallowed hard, gathering the tattered edges of her courage, then made a mad dash to her SUV, her heart pounding like a runaway train. Behind her, an engine turned over, then sputtered, and she flung open the car door, jumped inside, and switched on the ignition. She peeled away from the curb without looking back. The SUV skirted around the housing projects, dashing past the shadowy figures in alleys until the everyday bustle of Main Street came into view.
Angie glanced in the rearview mirror, but the jalopy wasn’t behind her. Her death grip on the steering wheel disappeared, replaced by relief instead. The familiar storefronts, restaurants, and office buildings relaxed her as she headed to her aunt and uncle’s house.
Angie drove down the tree-lined residential streets, fished out her cell phone, and dialed the sheriff’s office. There was no way the killer was still in the area, but the guilt would torture her if she didn’t at least report what she’d seen.But what did you see? A man wearing a hoodie was cruising around in a piece of junk and watching people. He didn’t even try to follow you. Thousands of men wear hoodies. Damn, I need to get a grip. I’m becoming paranoid as hell.She certainly felt that way after the deputy from the sheriff’s office acted like she was wasting his time, complaining if he looked intoeveryreport of a man with a hoodie sitting in a car, there’d be no time to do what he was paid for—his job.
Feeling foolish, Angie mumbled her apologies and ended the call, but she still had a niggling feeling that something wasn’t right.
Lights shone from the windows of the red brick house, creating elongated rectangles on the lawn. She pulled into the driveway of her aunt and uncle’s and dashed up the brick steps of the pillared front porch.
“You finally made it,” Aunt Rosa said as she threw open the door.
“I meant to come sooner to help, but I was at the tailor’s longer than I expected,” she answered while hugging her aunt.
“No problem. I have everything under control. I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Have you been busy going out with a nice man?”
Angie ignored her aunt’s comment and walked into the dining room. She scanned the polished table, set with Aunt Rosa’s gold-edged, camellia-flowered plates and a silver bowl filled with colorful flowers as a centerpiece, all flanked by gleaming blue candles in crystal holders.
“The table looks beautiful and fancy for a weeknight,” she said, running her finger over the smooth table edges.
“Thank you,tesora. The Sons of Italy dinner dance is on Saturday. I completely forgot it was this weekend and decided to have our big dinner tonight instead. You missed the last one, so I’m happy you’re here. So who’s the young man?”
“No one.” Angie squeezed Aunt Rosa’s shoulder with one hand and kissed her cheek. “And don’t start up so soon.”
“I just want to see you happy.”
“I am happy. Promise.” The aroma of rosemary and garlic curled around her. “It smells delicious. What are you making?”
“Roast pork—your favorite.”
“I can’t wait. I’m famished.”
“You didn’t eat today? You do look skinnier. You need to eat.”
Angie laughed. “Oh, I eat plenty. I haven’t had anything because I knew I was coming here. Let me help you in the kitchen.”
She looped her arm through her aunt’s, and they walked into the other room.
An hour later, they were all seated around the table, laughing, talking, and eating. Angie kept sneaking peeks at the clock above the fireplace mantel. A thread of excitement wove through her whenever she thought about seeing Crow later that night.
“You must be busy at work,” Dominic said to Angie.
“I am. Too many cases and not enough investigators—standard for the government.” She put another morsel of pork in her mouth.
“We pay enough taxes for you to have more than enough help,” Nick said. “The people at the top are skimming the coffers. They’re all a bunch of crooks.”
“It’s a bit more complicated,” she replied.
“I don’t trust any of them.” Nick speared a roasted potato with his fork from the serving plate.
“Ask!” Aunt Rosa chided as she playfully smacked Nick’s hand.
“He rarely does,” Maria commented.
“When’s the last time you went out on a date?” Dominic asked.
Angie rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Last week, maybe?”
“With who?”
