Daphne Winstead is a young,
struggling accountant who specializes in forensic accounting. When
she's hired to track and catch and embezzler at a local mental health
facility, she jumps at the chance, little knowing that's she's
stumbled into something far bigger than she anticipated. Not only has
she made several people in the office hate her, she's apparently
being followed.
Daphne didn't see it follow
her to the Super WalMart a few blocks from her home. She'd decided as
soon as she walked outside, she needed some warmer clothing. What she
had was good for cold in Mississippi. For this far north, not far
from the Canadian border, it wasn't sufficient. She didn't have a lot
to spend, but could afford a few things. Most important was a heavy
coat and a pair of boots. Snow was forecast for the coming week.
After selecting her
clothing, she did her grocery shopping. She was low on milk and
coffee, among other things. She picked up a deli friend chicken meal
for her dinner. Walking out of the store, she searched for her car,
having gotten turned around in the store. She spotted it across the
lot from where she stood. She'd gone out a different door from the
one she came in. Taking a deep breath, she struck out for her
vehicle, shivering in the gathering chill. Moisture touched her face
and she glanced up at the sky as she passed a dark SUV. It sat in a
parking space with the motor running.
"Snow? Really?"
Daphne sighed.
The windows of the SUV were
tinted, but she suspected someone was inside. Paying it no mind, she
loaded her groceries and put the cart in the nearby rack. Carefully,
she headed home. Not used to driving in this type of weather, she was
unsure of herself. Karen had grown up here, maybe she could give her
some tips.
At her apartment building,
Daphne carried her groceries to her apartment and unloaded them
quickly. Her chicken went in the oven to crisp, the rest in the
microwave. She poured herself a glass of wine and settled in the
living room with her food.
Outside,
the SUV sat idling in her parking lot. A large black man sat in the
driver's seat. Beside him sat the man in black leather. Dark,
brooding eyes gazed up at Daphne's window. He couldn't see in, but
that didn't stop him from seeing her. Right now, she was
probably curled up on her couch watching TV. He wasn't sure how he
knew that, but somehow it made sense.
"We gonna sit here all
night?" The black man asked him.
The other man didn't answer
right away. Instead, he twirled his finger. The driver put the car in
gear and pulled out of the parking lot into the gloomy storm.
"What's this girl done?
She looks totally harmless, man."
"Nothing."
"Then why we spending
our time watching her?"
The dark haired man
shrugged, shaking his head. Pinching his lower lip, he gazed out the
window at the thickening snow flurries.
"Well, I need a drink,
dammit," the black man said. "I'm freezing ass."
"You're wearing a heavy
coat, the seat's heated and the heat's on high," a man in the
back seat said, his British accent strong.
"Shut up, man. I'm from
Florida. This is fucking cold!"
The Brit and the dark haired
man chuckled. "Pussy," they said in chorus.
The rest of the trip took
place in silence. The SUV turned in at Kelley's parking lot.
"You two go in without
me. I have to make a call. Get me a coffee," he said as they got
out.
"American or Irish?"
The Brit asked.
"You seriously have to
ask that question, what kind of spy are you?"
Laughing, the men walked
off. The dark haired man made his call and joined them a short time
later.
"Feeling better?"
The Brit asked.
The dark haired man shrugged
as his coffee was served. Thanking the waitress with a smile, he
sipped it. Hot, creamy and enough whisky to stop a horse. Closing his
eyes, he let the hot, stinging beverage trickle down his throat.
"You gonna tell us what
this is about?" The Brit asked calmly, sipping his scotch.
"I told you. Nothing.
Don't worry your pretty head about it, baby," he said as if he
were talking to a particularly obtuse woman.
The British man punched him
in the shoulder.
"Hey! You nearly
spilled my coffee!"
"Oh, precious, you'll
manage," the British man said, batting his eyelashes.
"Y'all are a couple
fruits," the black man said sourly. "Act like girls. You
two gay for each other?"
"Because you're new to
the team and don't know us," the British man replied quietly.
"I'll let that slide—this time. Say it again, and pieces of
you will go missing."
"You ain't right,"
the driver said. "Neither of you."
"You don't like it, go
back to Miami," the dark haired man said.
"St. Pete," the
black man corrected. "I can't go back. Too damn hot."
"Temperature?" The
man in leather asked.
"Cops. One too many
bodies disappeared in Alligator Ally. Got suspicious." He
shrugged.
The two white men exchanged
a meaningful look. Nodding, they took a sip of their drinks in
unison. The black man watched, shaking his head.
"Nope, y'all ain't
right."
©
2014 Dellani Oakes
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