Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Miguel

The apartment manager’s office, which is located across the lobby from the mailroom, is locked. There’s a “BE BACK SOON” sign hanging on the door. So I go in search of the maintenance room, which is just around the corner on the ground floor. That door is wide open, and I hear a loud banging sound coming from inside the room.

I knock on the door frame and walk inside to find a man dressed in a pair of dirty overalls standing at a workbench, hammering a piece of metal. He’s lanky, with thinning brown hair and brown eyes. “Are you Rick?”

The man stops hammering and glances up. “Yeah.” He looks me over and narrows his eyes. “Who’s asking?”

Wow, great social skills with this one. “The name’s Miguel Rodriguez. I’m a friend of Ruby Foster up in apartment 2B. She’s been having some issues lately, and I was hoping I could put some surveillance cameras in the hallway outside her door.”

“What kind of issues?”

I’m not divulging anything to this guy. “It’s personal.”

Rick frowns. “Cameras? Hell no.”

“They’re really small. No one will even notice them.”

He shakes his head adamantly. “It’s a violation of people’s privacy.”

“Look, someone’s harassing Ruby. I just want to see who comes to her door, that’s all. I’m not spying on her neighbors.”

Rick takes a step toward me. “I said no. This is private property, so what I say goes. End of discussion.” He resumes his work.

I leave Rick to his hammering and head back toward the stairs just as a young blonde woman attempts to come down. She’s standing at the top of the steps clutching a small child in one arm and carrying an umbrella stroller in her other hand. She takes one wavering step as she tries to balance herself.

I rush up to meet her. “Here, let me help you.”

Smiling gratefully, she hands me the stroller, freeing up one hand so she can grasp the railing. “Thank you so much.”

I carry the stroller down to the lobby, while she follows after me with her little boy in her arms.

“It’s a shame we don’t have an elevator in this building,” she says as she sets the child in the stroller and buckles him in.

“Yeah, a lot of these older buildings don’t have them. I’m Miguel, by the way. I’m here visiting Ruby Foster in 2B. Do you know her?”

“I’m Becky.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I live right next door, in 2C.” She shakes her head. “I rarely see anyone coming or going from 2B.”

“Have you ever seen anyone loitering outside her apartment or leaving anything outside the door?”

She thinks for a minute. “She has groceries delivered regularly. Those bags are left at her door. And I see the blond guy who lives down the hall picking up trash bags outside her door. I’ve seen an older guy stop by a few times. But other than that, no. Sorry.”

“What about Rick, the building manager? Do you ever see him hanging around her door?”

“Yeah, sometimes. He’s a real busybody, you know? He’s always trying to stick his nose in everyone’s business.”

“Can I give you my card?” I pull out my wallet and hand her my card. “If you do see anything or anyone hanging around her door, would you please let me know?”

She tucks my card into her purse. “Sure.”

I open the front door for Becky, and she rolls her son out onto the sidewalk. Since I’m down here, I check Ruby’s mailbox and find a few envelopes in there. I pull them out and rifle through them. It’s mostly junk mail again, which is typical, and her cell phone bill. But there’s nothing weird or suspicious.

I jog up the stairs and knock on Ruby’s door. “It’s me, Miguel.”

A moment later, I hear the deadbolts turning, followed by the chain sliding free. She opens the door, and I step inside, closing the door behind me.

She turns all the locks. “Is that my mail?”

“Yes.” I hand her the mail and watch as she flips through the envelopes.

She frowns, which makes me think she might be disappointed that there’s nothing suspicious. “Did you talk to Rick?”

“I did. He said no to the cameras.”

She frowns. “I was afraid of that.”

“I met one of your neighbors, a young woman named Becky. I asked her if she’s seen anyone hanging around your door. She mentioned Darren and Rick and the guy who delivers your groceries, but no one else. Certainly nothing out of place. She seems nice, though.”

“I watch her sometimes playing with her son in the park.” Her smile fades, leaving her looking wistful and sad.

“What’s wrong?”

“Watching her reminds me of what’s missing in my life—a partner, a child. When I was a kid—before I lost my mom—I always assumed I’d have those things one day, but now I can’t see it happening.”

“You don’t know that,” I say.

A shadow crosses over her blue eyes. “Who would put up with a recluse like me?”

Plenty of men would, I want to say. I have no doubt men would be beating down her door if they knew she existed. Darren’s certainly trying his best to ingratiate himself with her. “Ruby, you’re an amazing young woman. I’m sure—”

“I’m a paranoid mental case.”

“No, you’re not. Who gave you that idea?”

Her cheeks flush. “How about from my own father?”

“Well, he’s wrong.” Impulsively, I reach out and grab her hand. “Don’t believe him.” I glance down at her hand resting in mine. This time she doesn’t pull away. I notice her ring—the square-cut ruby. “Tell me about your ring.” I have a feeling it holds special meaning for her. After all, it’s a ruby. That’s no coincidence.

She smiles sadly. “It was my mother’s ring. Rubies were her favorite gemstone.” She laughs softly. “I guess that’s why she named me Ruby. After she died, I asked for the ring.” She gazes down at it. “I never saw my mom take this ring off, not once. I don’t either. It helps me feel connected to her.”

My heart aches for Ruby. I can’t imagine the pain she must feel. “Ruby—”

Abruptly, she tugs her hand free. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work now.” She takes a few steps back. “I’m so far behind schedule.”

As she walks away, I say, “I’ll see you at lunch, right? You’ve got to eat.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything. Pumpkin jumps down from the sofa and hurries after her.

I know how he feels. I don’t like watching her walk away either.

I’m tempted to go after her, to make up some lame excuse for needing to talk to her, but I know I shouldn’t distract her when she needs to work. So I grab a cold drink from the fridge and get comfortable on the sofa. I can’t stop thinking about what she said—about wanting a family of her own and thinking it’s impossible. She has no idea how mistaken she is. Any man would feel damn lucky to be in her life.

My chest tightens when I realize I’d put myself in that category.