The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (good short books .TXT) 📕

Of course, she’d forgotten.

A whisper of worry slithered into her mind. “Come on,” she muttered, tapping her fingernails on the tarnished metal desk.

The ball stopped rolling and an assignment popped up. Tessa gasped. Her stomach twisted into a knot.

There on the screen, seeming to ogle at her as usual, was Chet Sanborn. She scanned the short paragraph under his picture, but it wasn’t right. It had the time of death, but where it was supposed to give the cause, it said unforeseen.

Tessa noted the time. Nine-thirty in the morning. Well, at least she wouldn’t be late. Then she glanced at the computer’s clock and sputtered. It was already nine-fifteen.

“What?”

The truth slammed into her. Linda’s clock must be off. And every time Tessa tried to change it, she couldn’t figure out how. Ancient cars with their archaic problems, including non-self-changing clocks.

Tessa jumped from the chair and immediately doubled over as a stab of pain shot through her knee. She’d banged her leg on the desk in her haste. She fought the urge to let out a few curses.

Hopping toward the doorway, Tessa lost her balance and crashed into the doorframe. Another jolt of pain—this one went through her shoulder.

“Argh,” she cried as tears sprang to her eyes. She had to take a few seconds to breathe, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside before she could continue.

She made for Linda as fast as her bruised body would allow, making quick calculations in her head. She should have just enough time. Her apartment complex wasn’t that far away.

If she didn’t, the “company” probably wouldn’t pay her for the assignment. And that meant she may not have enough money to cover the rent she’d promised Silas by Friday.

When she got to the car, Tessa grabbed the handle and yanked. It didn’t budge. Her fingers skidded along the metal. She yelped as two of her nails bent backward. That was more than she could take. She let a swear word fly. Then she fumbled for the car’s key.

Behind her, a car door slammed. Tessa hoped it wasn’t Cheryl, there to see her quick fall from grace. She would for sure remind her errant kid she should’ve forwarded those emails. If she had, she wouldn’t have had to go into the office at all. She could’ve waited at her apartment complex for Sanborn to pass.

Tessa spun on her heels, ready for the worst. But it wasn’t Cheryl. Instead, a lovely woman, about Tessa’s age, with dark skin and almond-shaped eyes gave her a bemused look.

Tessa ducked her head in silent apology, gave a little wave, and turned back toward Linda. She finally managed to get the door open and slink into the car. Through the window, she watched the woman glide, straight-backed, into the building.

Tessa turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. Linda did not make a single sound.

“Oh, come on,” Tessa breathed out. “Don’t you do this to me. Not now, baby.” She rubbed the dashboard like it was a sick puppy. Speaking in a tone one may use on an infant, Tessa begged, “Just take Mama home and I’ll let you sleep for the rest of the day, okay? Deal?”

Nothing.

Losing patience, Tessa slammed a palm into the steering wheel and glared at it. It was edging closer to nine-thirty.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me right now,” Tessa grumbled. “Do you want me to lose this job? You won’t be getting any oil changes if I do, I can tell you that.”

In fact, the first thing she was going to do with her paycheck—if she got one at all, was pay a half-dozen bills and the rent and buy some real food. Then, if there was any money left, she was going to look for a new car. But there was no way she was going to let Linda know about that future betrayal.

She pulled out her cell phone and stared at it for a minute, wondering if Mist River had Uber. She had no idea. Tessa didn’t have a data plan on her phone—she couldn’t afford it. So, she’d have to do the old-fashioned thing. Call information. She dialed 411, asked for Uber, and then listened to the woman chuckle. “Don’t you have the app?”

Tessa answered through gritted teeth. “No. I don’t. Is there a number?”

“I can find you a cab company. We still have a few of those.” The clicking of laptop buttons came over the line and then the woman announced she found a number. “Shall I connect you?”

“Yes, please.”

After a quick talk with a woman with a thick southern accent, it was clear that the soonest a cab could arrive would be twenty minutes. Tessa didn’t have that kind of time. She tried the car one more time, but it still ignored her polite request to start. With a groan, she jumped out of the car and started jogging. Ten steps later, she slowed to a walk, wheezing and holding her side. Admonishing herself for being so out of shape and never getting around to doing that thing where people went from completely inactive to running marathons in six months, she decided the best she’d be able to do was power-walk.

She pushed onward. She’d wasted so much time already. The next half a mile, with her paycheck on the line, felt like an insurmountable distance.

As the building came into sight, she started feeling uncomfortable. She didn’t really want to be there for Chet Sanborn’s last moments. It wasn’t like the guy was a friend—she’d always tried to avoid him as much as possible. But still, she knew him personally. The thought of watching him die gave her the heebie-jeebies. And, she had to admit, it gave her a stab of sadness. Just because she didn’t like talking to the man didn’t mean she wanted him to die.

Tessa glanced at her phone to check the time as she arrived in front of the apartment building. Nine forty-five. She was