Dead Wrong by Patricia Stoltey Page B

considering the urgency of the other messages. She went over what she knew so far, then began to worry about the part she didn’t know.
    Sammy, the presumed owner of the phone and maybe the laptop, was supposed to deliver something to someone in L.A. and he didn’t show up on schedule. This man in L.A. must be powerful—powerful enough to dispatch a couple of thugs to Denver to find Sammy. They could be in Denver already. They could have found Sammy early this morning and now have her stuff. Maybe that’s why the calls stopped. The man in L.A. might know she had the phone—and everything else in the case.
    She looked over her shoulder. No thugs in sight. She tried to reassure herself. No one wanted to kill her. The fat guy had a nasty temper and a filthy mouth. If she returned his case, he would never bother her again. She took a deep breath.
No more craziness. No more paranoia.
She needed to think, get her priorities straight.
    She glanced at her watch. Six o’clock. She needed to call her broker and the bank, but it was too early. They wouldn’t be in their Florida offices for another hour. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and checked to see the balance of minutes remaining in the display. Plenty, thank goodness.
    “Hey, aren’t you cold?”
    Lynnette jumped and thrust the phone in her pocket, pushed herself up from the bench, and grabbed the handle of her carryon. “Yeah,” she said. “I better get moving.” She glanced at the woman in jeans and a heavy flannel jacket who had walked up behind her. Lynnette hadn’t heard a thing.
If that had been the fat man, he could’ve killed me.
    “Come on in,” the woman said, pointing to a tiny shop a few feet from where Lynnette stood. A sign on the door said
Caffeine on Tap.
“I’ll give you a cup of coffee.”
    Inside the cozy shop, the woman pointed toward a table and chair in one corner. “You hungry? I have cinnamon rolls just out of the oven.”
    Lynnette turned down the rolls but accepted a huge cup of coffee.
    The woman got busy behind the counter and ignored Lynnette for several minutes. An empty newspaper rack sat by the door. A small television occupied one end of the counter, its screen dark. Lynnette passed the time by reading the handwritten menu on the wall chalkboard.
    The woman poured a cup of coffee for herself and leaned against the counter. “I don’t want to be nosy,” she said. Apparently she meant it, because she didn’t say anything else, didn’t ask any questions.
    Lynnette chose not to answer at first, but then felt rude in the face of the stranger’s kindness. “It’s complicated.”
    “I figured that.”
    “I’d rather not talk about it.”
    “Okay. Suit yourself.”
    Lynnette sipped her coffee, feeling more and more uncomfortable as the coffee lady continued to watch her. “Listen, I appreciate the coffee, but I have to get to the bus station.” She stood up at the same moment a door opened at the back of the shop and a man carrying two newspaper bundles strode toward the rack. She waited as he ordered a cup of coffee. After stacking the newspapers on the shelves, he handed a paper to Lynnette and laid one on the counter. With the cup of coffee in his hand, he shouted, “See ya!” and hurried out the door.
    “Sure you don’t want more coffee?” the woman asked.
    “Thanks, no.” Lynnette folded her newspaper and shoved it in the outside pocket of her carry-on.
    “Whatever’s going on, maybe I could help.”
    Lynnette shook her head. “I don’t think so. Thanks, anyway.”
    “Why don’t you sit and have something to eat?”
    Too pushy. She acts as though she’s trying to keep me here.
    Had the fat man been here looking for her?
    Without another word, Lynnette pulled the sweatshirt hood over her head and walked out the door. She crossed the street at the next intersection and walked away as fast as she could. She’d told the woman at the coffee shop she was headed to the bus station, so she couldn’t go