Eternal by V. Forrest (new reading TXT) 📗

their own lives, their own mochaccinos, to care what we’re saying.”

The line inched forward a centimeter and Fia wished she was anywhere on the planet but here. And the day had started out so nicely. Warm sun on a cool September morning. A pleasant shower filled with fantasies involving a particular human in the shower with her. An easy, traffic-jam-free drive to work. A great parking space. And now here was Joseph, raining on her parade.

“Hey. You see that article in the paper about that girl who was murdered in Lansdowne? Same street where we used to go to that little bar all the time. The one with the purple bar stools and the weird chrome sinks in the bathrooms. Remember it?”

Something in Joseph’s tone made her turn to look at him. The hairs on the nape of her neck bristled and her couple hundred years of experience with bad guys set off the synapses in her brain.

He was talking about the Casey Mulvine case. But how? Why? He couldn’t possibly know Fia had been at the crime scene. Her mind raced. She knew she hadn’t mentioned the case to him when she’d seen him at the bar or at the restaurant. She certainly hadn’t brought up the subject during their brief phone conversations. She hadn’t said anything to anyone about Casey Mulvine outside the office. Had she been thinking about Casey Mulvine one of the nights she had seen him? She was usually so careful around Joseph, always putting up a barrier to prevent him from reading her thoughts. Had she slipped up?

“I was supposed to look at some office space in Lansdowne, too, but that makes you think twice doesn’t it?” he went on. “Crimes like that, you used to only hear about in big cities, but now”—he glanced up at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter—“Any leads on that case?”

“How would I know? FBI doesn’t generally cover homicides in alleyways behind bars.”

“Ah-ha, so you do know what case I’m talking about.” He pointed at her.

He was relaxed. Perfectly at ease. Nothing suspicious whatsoever about his behavior. He was just making conversation. So why was she suspicious of him?

Because she knew Joseph. Because she knew what a mean, conniving bastard he could be.

“What do you know about that case?” She took a step closer to him, lowering her voice. “How did you know a woman was killed and left in an alley in Lansdowne?”

“Whoa. Easy there, Miss Special Agent for the FBI.” He put up both his hands as if surrendering to her.

She looked around to be sure no one was watching them. There had to be other agents in the shop.

“I told you,” Joseph explained. “I saw it in the paper. It caught my eye because I knew the street. It was one of our old haunts. Good memories, right?”

“Ma’am? Ma’am, may I help you?”

Fia whipped around to face the guy with the shaggy Beatles haircut in the Starbucks apron. She ordered Glen’s coffee, her chai tea, waited for them, then walked around the side to add sugar to her cup. Joseph followed a minute later with a tall something.

She dropped the plastic stirrer on the counter as he pushed up beside her.

“You sure are jumpy, Fee,” he said quietly.

He was up to something. She just knew. Felt it. Tasted it.

“Do I really make you so nervous?”

“Joseph, I swear by all that’s holy,” she threatened under her breath. She’d had just about enough of his crap and she was beginning to think it was time to move past asking him nicely to get out of town.

“Easy, girl—”

“Don’t you easy me.”

He took a plastic stirrer from a bin and slowly began to stir his coffee. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said. About possibly relocating somewhere other than Philadelphia.”

This was so like him, to taunt her, to force her to draw back, then to offer a tempting morsel to reel her back in again. She waited.

“And I’ve been thinking about what you said about seeing your shrink. It’s not a bad idea.”

“You want to see her?”

“Am I dying to see a freak shrink? No.” He licked the coffee stirrer. “Do I want to keep my problem from getting out of hand again? Yes.”

She ignored the freak comment, not sure if it was aimed at Dr. Kettleman or her patients. “I’ll get you the number; make an appointment for you, if you want.” She hated to sound so overly eager, but she really wanted Joseph out of her life. Especially now when Glen seemed to be coming into it.

“I definitely think I’d like to see her.” He tossed the stirrer into the trash receptacle in the hole in the counter. “But I’ll only go if you go. You know. Like couples counseling.” He smiled and sipped his four-dollar coffee.

So there it was. Another one of Joseph’s traps. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on. You said you’d consider it when you brought it up. It was practically your idea.”

“It wasn’t my idea.” She popped the lids onto the two cups and reached for a cardboard carrier.

“But you said—”

“I don’t care what I said.” She abruptly stepped toward him and he jerked back. “I’m not going for couples counseling with you, Joseph. Now if you’ll excuse me”—she stepped out of his “space”—“I have to get to work.”

He didn’t follow her, but in her head he stayed with her the rest of the day.

Saturday, Fia decided against going to the office as she usually did on weekends. She took Betty to the grocery store, ran all her errands in the neighborhood, cleaned her bathroom, cut her cat’s back claws and in a moment of utterly positive thinking, called Sorcha, Shannon, and Eva to say hi. Just to try to continue the reconnection she’d made with them the other night.

Fia and Eva chatted for five minutes and although the conversation seemed to go well, Fia wound up having to reiterate that she wasn’t interested in dating Eva. Shannon was