It was a very helpless feeling. Our pursuers were out there. Could return at any time.
Minutes dragged by. The stone lions watched, impassive.
Finally, Chance emerged from the building. A tight frown was standing in for his usual easy grin.
"Tory, I found something." He nodded to a bench down on the lawn. "Let's talk over there."
Despite my anxiety, I noted that Chance looked good. His lacrosse uniform displayed his muscles to perfect effect.
Eyes front and center. Your life might depend on his information.
"I heard back from the SLED," Chance said. "They got a hit off your print."
"Who is it?"
I flipped to a page in my spiral and poised a pen over it. Nervous sweat made the thing slide through my fingers.
"A man named James Newman. According to the SLED, Newman is a local thug with ties to crime syndicates throughout the southeast."
Chance laid his palm over my pen hand. "He's bad news, Tory. Very bad."
His touch thrilled me, but I stayed on topic. "Does the SLED know where Newman lives, or what he's been up to lately?"
"No. But apparently Newman's jacket is as thick as a phone book. Over the years he graduated from petty thefts and assaults to robbery, drug trafficking, maybe even murder." Chance's fingers tightened on mine. "This isn't someone you want to mess with over a stolen laptop. Or anything else."
"I'll just file a police report," I said. But my mind was already searching for ways to find Newman.
Chance glanced at my notes. "I won't pry into your personal business, but I advise you to stop whatever it is you're doing. From what I've learned, this guy would never just cruise around looking for stray computers. If he was out on Morris Island, he was out there for a reason."
Too true. But I can't tell you.
"You're right," I said. "I'll forget the whole thing. No point poking a hornet's nest."
Chance gazed into my eyes, as if taking my measure. Flustered, I looked away first.
Oh-so-gently, Chance began stroking my hand. His caresses left little burn tracks on my skin.
"Please don't mess with this guy, Tory. I like you. I'd be upset if something bad happened to you."
I didn't trust myself to speak.
"I can tell you're not the type to back down. But Jimmy Newman is bad news." Chance leaned close, voice earnest. "You could get seriously hurt."
My pulsed raced.
"I promise, Chance. I'll let it go."
A smile spread across the beautiful face. God, he was gorgeous.
Before I could react Chance pulled me close, buzzed my cheek, released me.
"Smart as always."
With that, he rose and walked away.
I couldn't move.
Chance Claybourne had kissed me.
Holy smoking buckets.
CHAPTER 56
I glanced around, making sure I had the right universe.
And spotted Hi, jacket inside out, sneaking back up the steps.
Frick.
"Hold it!"
Hi straightened, slowly turned, and trudged down to my bench.
"Oh, hey." Feigned nonchalance. "Didn't see you there."
"Come on, Hiram." My hands found my hips. "Why the embarrassed face? What is it you think you just saw?"
"Not you and Chance canoodling like newlyweds, if that's what you mean." He smiled, then tsked. "Shame, shame! When good girls go bad!"
"It wasn't like that." My face burned to the tips of my ears. "Or maybe it was. I don't know." I covered my eyes and peeked through my fingers. "He started it!"
"None of my business," Hi said. "And don't worry. It's in the vault. Forgotten."
"Thank you. FYI, I'm not out to steal anyone else's boyfriend. He hit on me." Pause. "I think."
"Sure." Hi winked. "Whatever you say, TB."
Grrr.
"What did loverboy have on the print?"
I looked at my notepad, thankful to change subjects. "It was left by a guy named James Newman, a local meathead with ties to organized crime."
"Organized crime?" Hi's eyebrows plunged into a V. "That sounds unpleasant. Where does he hang?"
"We've got to find him."
"Right. The cops can't but we will."
"We have to. The guy was scoping out our activities at the library. That makes him our only lead in the Heaton case."
"I've been thinking about that." Hi dropped down beside me. "We may be going about this the wrong way. This Newman guy probably works for someone, right? That's who we have to find."
"Okay. How?"
"Motive," he said. "We need to find out why Heaton was killed."
That tracked right. And seemed safer than chasing a dangerous felon across greater Charleston.
"Then we should investigate Katherine's disappearance," I said. "Find something the cops missed back in '69."
"We already checked the newspapers," Hi said. "Where else could we look?"
I had a sudden thought.
"What about Katherine's family?"
"Her father was an orphan. And her mother died in childbirth."
"Katherine was only sixteen when Frankie Heaton was killed in Vietnam. She must've been living with someone while he was overseas."
"Maybe her mother had family?" Hi sounded dubious.
"Whoever it was, if that person's still alive, they might remember details of the day Katherine vanished."
Hi scratched his chin. "Back to the public library?"
"I've got a better idea."