Love Can Be Murder

any sign of Gary on foot, while keeping an eye on her rearview mirror for headlights. She wiped the corners of her eyes and exhaled heartily, then turned on the air conditioner full blast to dispel the faint smell of cigarettes and body odor Gary had left behind. How long had he been following her, waiting for her? She shivered, remembering the desperate edge to his voice.
    What had been in the envelope he'd sent her—money? Drugs? And was this "they" he was talking about intercepting her mail? If so, "they" had already made a connection between her and Gary. Who were "they"...friends of his? People who knew about the missing person's report she'd filed? Police officers? Was that why Gary was afraid for her to go to the police, because they were involved somehow? Of course, the missing persons report was a matter of public record, for anyone to access.
    She shook her aching head, realizing she was buying into Gary's thin explanation of a conspiracy. Because, despite evidence to the contrary, she wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. Because she needed to justify her decision to become involved with him? Otherwise, what kind of a woman would she be if she could be conned by a con man?
    Gullible? Or, in this case, criminal ?
    She reached for her purse and rummaged with one hand until she came up with her cell phone, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her thumb hovered over the number pad as she debated whether to call Detective Salyers.
    But what information could she provide really—other than the fact that Gary was alive, which the police already suspected? He'd given her no names, no specifics at all, to support his contention that he was set up. Salyers would probably dismiss his ramblings as those of a strung-out fugitive, then have him hunted down. And maybe haul her in for good measure.
    If he was guilty and she didn't call Salyers, he would eventually be found and brought to justice. If he was innocent and she didn't call Salyers, he might be able to gather more information in his defense before the police closed in.
    So in reality, there was nothing tangible to be gained from telling Salyers about Gary's sudden reappearance. And if she implicated herself further, the police would pester her to no end. Gary's warning to be careful rang in her ears. The police couldn't help her there, either, other than to reiterate his warning...and maybe make things worse if "they" thought she was cooperating with the police.
    She glanced down at the phone, wavering. When she stopped at the next intersection, she punched in a number and waited while the phone rang one, two, three, four times.
    "Hello," Leann said, sounding out of breath.
    At the sound of a familiar voice, Jolie's blood pressure instantly eased. "Hey, it's me. Did I catch you at a bad time?"
    "Just dealing with some throw-up," Leann said with a tired sigh.
    Jolie cringed. "Your sister sounds miserable."
    "Almost as miserable as I am," Leann murmured. "I thought you were going to a party tonight."
    "I just left." She flipped on her signal, then merged onto Roswell Road.
    "Wow, it must have been a bomb."
    "No, it was fine," Jolie said. "A little ritzy for me, but...okay."
    "Your new friend must be ritzy, too."
    Was that a touch of jealousy in her voice? Jolie gave a little laugh. "Carlotta? Get this. She had fake tickets to get us in, and smuggled in wineglasses so we wouldn't have to buy them for the wine tasting."
    "You crashed the party?"
    "Yes."
    Leann howled laughing. "I don't believe it! You crashed a shindig at the High Museum?"
    Jolie frowned. "Yes." At this point, she didn't want to admit she'd been bamboozled into being bad. "Apparently, Carlotta and her friend are both serial party crashers."
    "Sounds fun. So why did you leave early?"
    She didn't feel like recounting the story of Roger LeMon, especially when there were more important things to report. "I was tired. But when I walked back to my car, Gary was waiting for me."
    Leann gasped. "Gary? Are you shitting me?"
    "No. He was in the backseat, hiding."
    "Omigod! Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"
    "No, he didn't hurt me, but he nearly frightened me to death."
    Leann sputtered. "Tell me everything! Where has he been?"
    "He didn't say, only that he's been hiding out. He said he's innocent, that he was set up for the woman's murder."
    "Who set him up? And who was the woman?"
    "He wouldn't tell me anything. He said the less I knew, the better. And he begged me not to tell the police that