Shadows of the Past Read Online Free PDF Page A

Flushing, she pushed the thoughts away. Of course they were protective of her. They still tended to see her as the teenager who’d been abducted.
    It was a weird situation. She couldn’t remember anything. Yet it was impossible to forget the incident. Her family’s concern kept it in the forefront of her mind.
    Yes, incident was a better word.
    It was real, yet unreal. A story told from someone else’s point of view. Lately, she’d begun to waken in the dead of night in a panic from nightmares. It dated from the moment she realized someone was shadowing her footsteps.
    A faint ping sounded at the back of her mind like the first warning note of an alarm. The impression sent her spinning round to scan the front garden and faded just as quickly when she saw the old man next door raking the pebbles on his driveway. Being unable to carry through last night’s plans had left her jumpy, knowing Randy Searle was still on the loose, didn’t realize she was on to him or that she knew his name.
    Alone in the house, she cleared the festive lunch table where they’d exchanged gifts. The other girls had protested, but saw her logic, conceding her journey home was less lengthy than the ones facing them.
    She pushed her glasses up on her nose, her spare pair. On her way home this afternoon she’d stop by the restaurant to see if her others had been found where she’d placed them on the table. But before she left, since she had plenty of time, she’d walk around to the shop next to Northcote Point cinema and buy her mother a box of the handmade chocolates she loved.
    As she washed up, flashes of memory from the night before filled her thoughts. Could any woman ever forget her first real taste of romance?
    The trick would be to make sure no memories of Randy Searle were allowed to taint it. Thank heavens she’d made time to write it all down in her journal before sleep overtook her.
     

    Franc wrote his signature on the check with a flourish. Stanhope’s annual Christmas party didn’t come cheaply, but it was worth it for the goodwill and camaraderie it engendered in the staff. He passed the check over the tall, narrow desk to the manager. “How much of this covers breakages?”
    Paul Start, the manager of The Point restaurant, grinned. “You got off lightly, no more than two or three glasses.” Always one for an eye to business, Paul winked. “Come back next year. You’re the kind of customer we like.”
    Just as astute, Franc took his receipt, glanced at the figures again and said, “Next time, I’ll ask for a discount.”
    Paul’s eyes narrowed, calculated. “Do that. Next time, you might get one. But for now, how about having lunch? On the house.”
    “Thanks, I will.”
    He should have known that eating lunch in almost the exact spot he’d held Maria in his arms wouldn’t aid his digestion.
    He looked up at the entrance and relived his reactions of the night before when he’d watched her walk through it.
    He’d likened her to a goddess, and hen his ardor had carried him away, she’d spurned him. Didn’t mean he was going to give up or take his rejection as absolute.
    There had to be a way.
    No sooner thought than found.
    Paul slid into the seat opposite. “I forgot to hand over these.” He twisted fragile-looking rimless glasses in his fingers so they caught the light. “One of the cleaners found them at the table by the potted palm.”
    Franc recalled how her pupils had been huge as they turned the lights on at the end of the dance. Could the look that had enchanted him been slightly myopic?
    Taking the glasses from Paul, he slid them into the pocket of his thin chambray shirt. “Thanks, Paul. I’m sure I know who these belong to.”
    Mind made up, he tossed his napkin onto his plate and pushed his chair away from the table. “Her place is on my way, so I’ll drop them off.” He’d written the address down when he’d called her cab, though he’d been sure it was one he wouldn’t forget.
    “Good