Party Crashers

his change. While she bagged his purchase, her gaze drifted toward the mall entrance. The detective had to have some kind of news, didn't she? And if it were good news, the police would have called, wouldn't they? Or Gary himself?
    Beck cleared his throat. "This is none of my business, but is everything okay?"
    She nodded and held up his shopping bag. "Thank you for shopping at Neiman Marcus." Then she gave him the best smile she could manage. "Please come back and I'll try not to bulldoze you."
    He hesitated, then took his bag. "Take care."
    She maintained a cheery smile until he turned away. Then she grabbed the Sammy rejects and checked the floor for debris she might have overlooked from the crash. In the stockroom, she spent the last few minutes of her shift methodically returning the jumble of boxes, lids, and shoes to order.
    Snippets of Gary Hagan kept popping into her head—his crooked smile, his curly black hair that he kept gelled in place or covered with an orange cap, the cell phone that was at his ear more often than it was in his pocket. He was wiry and athletic, with an electric personality, always moving. Gary had been the most thoughtful man she'd known—he'd never missed an opportunity to celebrate an occasion, and often had brought her flowers for no reason. But the police didn't understand any of those things.
    She climbed onto a stool to reshelve the boxes, and unbidden tears clouded her vision. She swayed, then grabbed the edge of the shelf to keep from falling.
    "Jolie?" Michael Lane was behind her, his hand against her back. "Are you okay?"
    "Just a little light-headed," she said, allowing him to help her down.
    "Who was that woman? She asked me to point you out to her."
    Jolie hesitated, but if Michael was left to concoct his own answer, he might come up with something worse than the truth. "She's a detective from the police department. A guy I was dating disappeared a few weeks ago."
    "Disappeared?"
    She nodded. "The detective must have news, because she wants to talk to me. I asked her to meet me when my shift ended."
    "Go," he said, pointing toward the door. "I'll put everything back. I hope she has good news."
    She nodded gratefully, then retrieved her purse from a locker in the break room and walked out across the showroom toward the entrance to the mall. She resisted the urge to look for Beck Underwood. In the space of a few minutes, he had learned that she was a hopeless klutz, estranged from her former boss, and that the police wanted to talk to her. The man probably thought she was a total drama queen. He'd never know how much she'd appreciated his concern.
    She nodded to the security guard at the doorway and hurried out into the mall, instantly assaulted with voices, music, and crowd noise reverberating between tile floors and glass ceilings. Because of Columbus Day, kids were off school and had been at the mall all day in full force, cruising for attention and trouble. The girls were squeezed into provocative clothes and looked old enough to do things they shouldn't. The boys looked overwhelmed.
    A far cry from her own sheltered upbringing. She had been an only child, a change-of-life baby, and her frugal parents had harbored rather old-fashioned notions about child-rearing. But even if she hadn't worn the most fashionable clothes or obtained her driver's license until she was eighteen, she could thank her parents for loving her and for giving her a good value system. She'd lost them both to illness when she was in her early twenties. Work had been her solace, and night school had kept her plenty busy. Oh, there had been occasional dates and sporadic boyfriends, but Gary Hagan had been the first man who had made her think about sharing her future. He was an orphan too, having lost his parents to a car accident. She thought it had made them closer, their aloneness.
    Would her parents have approved of Gary? She'd asked herself this question many times over the months they had dated. In the beginning they would have been uncomfortable with his exuberance, just as she'd been. But eventually, they would've been won over by his relentless cheerfulness.
    At least she liked to think so
    Through gaps in the crowd, Jolie saw the lady detective up ahead, pacing in front of the coffee vendor.
    Pacing...that couldn't be good.
    Jolie drew in a shaky breath and strode forward, eager to get the meeting over with. Detective Salyers spotted her and stood still, waiting until she came close enough