See Me (27 page)

There was a time, Colin knew, when he wouldn’t have given a damn about any of this. There was no reason to get involved. She was right, after all. It was her problem, and frankly, he had enough problems of his own.

However, Colin considered himself an expert in anger. And at its heart, that’s what this was all about. At the hospital, he’d learned the differences between overt and covert anger; in his own life, he’d been well versed in both. At the bars, when he was in the mood to fight, his anger had been overt. His agenda was clear, with no hidden meanings, no shame, and no regret. In the first couple of weeks at the hospital, though, he hadn’t been able to act out in any way if he became angry. The doctors had made it clear that if he became violent – if he so much as raised his voice – he’d end up in the acute care ward, which meant being stuck in a communal room with a dozen other people, and mandatory lithium in doses that made him feel dull, while doctors and nurses watched his every move. That was the last thing he wanted. Instead, he’d pushed his anger down, trying to keep it hidden, but after a while he realized that the anger didn’t go away. Instead, it simply transformed from overt to covert. Subconsciously, he began to manipulate people; he sensed exactly what buttons needed to be pressed to piss someone off, and he jabbed at those buttons until they finally blew. One by one, others were sent to the acute care ward while he played innocent, until his doctor finally called him on what he’d been doing. Countless hours of therapy later, Colin finally understood that anger was anger, whether overt or covert, and equally destructive either way.

That’s what someone was acting out here, he thought. Anger with the intent to manipulate. Whoever it was wanted Maria’s emotions to start going haywire, and while it was covert for now, he sensed this was only the beginning.

To Colin’s mind, that made Ken even less likely as a suspect, but then it was the only name he had. No choice but to start there. After Maria reluctantly handed him the key to her condo at the end of lunch, he drove to her place and retrieved the camera. He turned it on, making sure the batteries had enough juice, and ran through the various settings. Checked the zoom and took some shots off her balcony before realizing that he really needed to shoot faces to know how close he’d have to be.

After tucking the key into a planter pot near the door as instructed, he drove to the beach, where no one would think twice about a man with a camera. It wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people around for him to get what he needed, and he spent an hour photographing people from various distances. In the end, he calculated that he could be no more than fifty yards away. Good, but not great. Ken might still be able to recognize him. He’d need a vantage point where he wouldn’t be spotted.

Most of the historical buildings on either side of the block where Maria’s office stood were two or three stories tall, with flat roofs. Cars lined both sides of the street, and though there were a few trees, none was big enough to hide behind. The foot traffic was not heavy but steady; remaining inconspicuous while hunkering down for an hour or more with a camera in hand was pretty much out of the question.

Raising his gaze, he focused on the buildings he’d just walked past, the ones opposite the office entrance. The distance was good and the angle was perfect, but it raised the question of how – or even if – he could get up there.

He recrossed the street, hoping to find a fire escape. Modern two- to three-story buildings didn’t have them, and as soon as he reached the narrow alley that ran behind the block, he realized he was half-lucky. The buildings directly opposite the law office had no roof access, but the three-story building next to those had an old-fashioned drop-down ladder ten or eleven feet up that led to a metal landing on the second floor. Tough but not impossible to reach, and though the angle the building offered wasn’t ideal, it was his best and only bet. Heading down the alley, he put the strap around his neck and tucked the camera beneath his shirt. He took a couple of explosive steps toward the wall, hoping to use it as a springboard to launch himself even higher and gain the last few inches he knew he’d need.

He did it just right, grabbing on to the bottom rung with both hands. With a hard jerk upward, he got one hand on the next rung up, repeating the process until he reached the landing. Thankfully, the ladder was attached to the building above that, and a few moments later, he was on the roof. Down on the street, no one appeared to have noticed him.

So far, so good.

He made his way to the corner closest to Maria’s office. The lip of the roof was low – no more than six inches – but some cover was better than none. Thankfully the gravel was smooth here; there were no big pebbles, though these were scattered everywhere else. There were a bunch of gum wrappers though, and as he got into position on his stomach, he brushed those away. He aimed the camera and settled in to wait. To his surprise, he could actually see Maria as she worked at her desk in her office; he could also make out her car and, beyond that, the garbage bins. Her car was parked in her usual spot, and a few spots down he saw Ken’s Corvette.

A bit more than an hour later, the first people in the office began to stream out, usually one at a time, but sometimes in pairs. Paralegals – and yes, as Maria had mentioned, all of them were attractive – a couple of guys in their forties, Maria’s friend Jill. Several other people, followed a few minutes later by Maria. He followed her with the lens, thinking that she was moving more slowly than usual. When she reached the corner of the building, she glanced around, no doubt trying to find him. He watched her forehead form a frown before she finally headed to her car.

Focusing on the entrance again, he still saw no sign of Ken. Just when he began to wonder whether the onset of dusk would blur the detail he wanted, Ken finally pushed through the door. Colin held his breath, snapped off a dozen photos before Ken turned into the parking lot, then rolled to his side to examine the images, hoping that one or two would be good enough.

They were.

He waited until Ken pulled away before getting up and making his way down from the roof the same way he’d gone up. Again, no one appeared to notice him, and by the time he reached his car, dusk was settling in. He stopped at a drugstore on the way home and selected two of the photos for processing before heading back to Maria’s.

He’d promised to bring her camera back.

 

 

“No wonder I couldn’t find you,” she said to him later, the photos on her kitchen table. “So tomorrow…”

“I’ll start calling florists. And hopefully find out the truth.”

“And if it was a phone order?”

“I’ll tell them the truth. That you were wondering whether the wrong card was attached to the delivery. And that you’re wondering who they’re from.”

“They might not tell you.”

“I’m just asking for a name, not the number. I’d bet that most people would be willing to help.”

“And when you find out that it was Ken?”

It was the same question that Evan had asked him earlier, and he’d pondered it on and off since then. “The decision as to what to do next would be yours.”

She nodded, tight-lipped, before finally standing from the table and moving to the balcony doors. She stood before them, saying nothing for a long moment. Colin rose from his seat. When he was close, he put a hand on her lower back and felt something collapse beneath his touch.

“I’m just so tired of talking about it. I’m tired of even thinking about it.”

“Let’s get out of here and go do something that will take your mind off it.”

“Like what?”

“How about I surprise you?”

 

 

Staring out the window of the Camaro as it sat between a couple of minivans, she made no move to get out of the car. “This is your surprise?”

“I thought it might be fun.”

“Mini golf? Seriously?”

Maria eyed with obvious skepticism the cheery lights that surrounded the entrance. Beyond the glass doors she could make out an arcade; off to the left was the miniature golf course, complete with rotating windmills as part of what Colin guessed was a Scandinavian theme.

“Not just mini golf. It’s glow-in-the-dark mini golf.”

“And… I take it that you’ve mistaken me for a twelve-year-old?”

“It’s a good distraction. And when was the last time you played?”

“I just told you. When I was twelve. Kevin Ross had his birthday party here. But he pretty much invited the entire sixth grade and my mom came, too, so it wasn’t exactly a date.”

“But it was memorable. Afterwards, if you want, we can try the laser maze.”

“Laser maze?”

“I saw the banner a couple of months back when I was driving by. I think it’s like that scene in
Get Smart
with Steve Carell, where you have to try crossing a room without breaking the beams.” When she didn’t answer, he went on. “I’d hate to think you’re just afraid I might win and that’s what this is all about.”

“I’m not afraid of losing to you. If memory serves, I think I was the best in my class.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re on.”

 

 

Friday morning, Colin woke early and was out the door before dawn. He put in a quick six miles and visited the gym before going online and gathering the phone numbers he needed. He’d been surprised to learn that Wilmington had more than forty florists, in addition to grocery stores that also sold flowers, which meant he’d be busy.

He felt good about the night before. Though it took Maria a few holes and a couple of lucky putts before she began to relax, by the time they’d finished, she was laughing and even dancing on the green after she sank a hole in one on the sixteenth hole to pull ahead for good. Hungry, they skipped the laser maze and he brought her to a roadside stand near the beach that specialized in fish tacos, which they washed down with ice-cold beer. He asked if she’d be willing to go out with Evan and Lily – she told him
of course
– and when she kissed him good night, he could tell that the evening had been just what she needed.

At the breakfast bar, he began making the first of his calls, hoping he’d be able to knock out the list in a couple of hours, only to realize that the person he needed to talk to wasn’t always immediately available, which meant a second or even third call to the same number. Still, he ran through the explanation and questions he thought might work best: that the wrong card might have been attached; had a delivery been sent to the office; had a bouquet of pink roses even been assembled; and fortunately, most of the people he spoke with had been more than willing to help. By the time he had called all but a handful of shops, it was early afternoon and he’d begun to suspect that the last ones would say the same thing the others had said: that they hadn’t been the florist who assembled or delivered the bouquet.

He was right. Wondering what to do next, he decided to try some out-of-town florists; the only question was which direction to choose. He chose north. He called both florists in Hampstead, then found another eighteen in Jacksonville.

On his sixth call, at a place named Floral Heaven near the gates of Camp Lejeune, he hit the jackpot. Yes, the owner told him, he remembered the man who’d ordered the bouquet. It had been a cash order, he added. Yes, the store would be open tomorrow, and he’d be there as well.