Whatever it was, the guilt that was mixed up in her attraction to him was compelling her to go see him.
To make sure he didn’t suspect anything? Or just to see him again? Everett’s story had made her curious. What the hell was in that storage unit? Alex had been acting self-conscious about the locker the whole time.
She’d found herself turning over Everett’s claims this morning, calculating Alex’s age in the ’90s. That had been reassuring, at least. He’d still been a kid, a teenager or a college student. But what if he was covering up something his uncle had done?
She’d tried googling a few things, but she’d found only two missing women from Herriman and a couple of teenagers who’d run away. She imagined a lot of kids wanted to run away from small Midwestern towns. Hell, it was basically the same story in the paper this morning.
Mendelson had been trying to scare her, obviously. The eighteen-year-old girl who’d gone missing was only reported as an “at-risk” adult in the town’s police blotter. It said she’d gotten out of drug treatment a week before. Her name was withheld for privacy. It wasn’t exactly being pursued as a kidnapping.
Poor Everett. He’d been so freaked out about all of this. He read too many scary books, but she really didn’t want to smother his love for reading. She was already so strict about everything else.
Sighing, she checked the cameras and saw Alex’s SUV parked. He was probably already busy. Or maybe he was waiting for her to come by after promising not to stalk her. She stared at the monitor for a while before finally giving in and pushing out the office door.
She heard music as she approached, growing louder as she drew near. Slowing, she finally came to an awkward stop at the back of his SUV because she’d forgotten to come up with an excuse. Alex was inside the unit, already bent over a box. The open windows of his vehicle blasted music she didn’t recognize. He probably had all-new music every month after covering the scene in Memphis.
Her foot scraped the cement, and Alex popped up with a pleased smile. “Hey! How’s it going?”
“Well,” she lied. “How about you? Getting everything organized?” She casually took one step into the doorway, looking around with what she hoped was a normal amount of curiosity. She didn’t see any pictures. She didn’t see much of anything. Some boxes that had all been shoved toward one wall, and a little furniture. It looked mostly bare. “I guess you cleaned up.”
“I’d say I’m about halfway through. I got a lot packed up last time I popped in.” That could explain the missing pictures.
“Find anything good yet?”
“Lots of papers. Lots of stuff that needs to be trashed. Want a water?” He pointed toward a little cooler at his feet.
“I’m fine, thanks.” She took a step inside. “I like the music. A Memphis band?”
“Yeah. There are so many great indies there. Thousands of talented souls looking for a break. This is just a demo.”
Lily touched a brass floor lamp that looked like an antique. “Tell me about your uncle,” she suggested. “What’s he like?”
Alex smiled easily, not at all like a man who was hiding something. “He’s a great guy. One of the best.” Even Lily’s cynical heart didn’t believe a man could lie that sincerely. He loved his uncle a lot.
“My dad, his brother, wasn’t exactly a loving parent. My mom was great, but my dad had a bad temper that got worse on the weekends when he drank. We just . . . Well, let’s say we didn’t get along. I lived at home through high school, but Uncle Alex was the father figure I chose in my life. I spent my college summers living with him and working to save up for the next year’s tuition. He’s just . . . Yeah. A great guy.”
“He sounds amazing.”
“He is. What about your dad?”
“Oh boy. That’s a long story.”
“I get that,” he said, letting her off the hook if she wanted that. She did. “Hey, I’m glad you dropped by. I was hoping you would.”
“Yeah, I saw your cheesy little wave when you pulled through.”
“Cheesy! That was charm!”
“Oh, my bad.” She laughed, then opened her eyes to find him watching her mouth, and she turned utterly awkward again. She couldn’t be attracted to this man, not after Everett’s outburst the night before, but Jesus, her blood pressed beneath her skin, surging against the walls of her veins, wanting closer. How long had it been since she’d felt that?