Allan Parker held the door open for her. Della clutched the handle of her purse and tried to return his smile. She knew she had to trust him, but she hated leaving the office without knowing precisely where Perry was or when he would be with her.
"Come on, Miss Street," Parker said. "Is something wrong?" Della noticed his biceps flex as he pushed the door open further.
"No, of course not," she said, tearing her eyes away from his arm. "I just think it's funny that Perry didn't want to talk to me when he called."
Parker walked toward her, letting the door close behind him. His hand reached up to her shoulder and ran across her back. "I told you, Miss Street. He said that he had to hurry and would see us in a few hours. I said I wouldn't let you out of my sight until he was there, and I meant it. Don't worry."
The door opened and Jerry, the Brent Building doorman, walked in. "Miss Street?" he said. His eyes moved to Parker's hand, which firmly grasped Della's left shoulder. "Where's Mr. Mason this afternoon?"
"He had to go out, Jerry. Detective Parker here is just giving me a ride over to meet up with him." Della smiled and let the young man escort her through the front door out into the garage. She felt caught, knowing full well what Jerry must have assumed. Wriggling out of Parker's grasp, Della looked back to see if the doorman had followed them out. He hadn't. A car exited the garage, leaving silence behind. Parker pointed with his keys to the convertible they would take, and the secretary suddenly felt cold. Her footsteps echoed like shots on the concrete. She felt the detective staring at her and looked at him. She couldn't help but to laugh at his shy smile. Normally she would jump at the chance to make Perry jealous and spend the day with a football player ten years her junior and obviously enamoured with her. She threw one last look back at the door to the building, then brushed the hair out of her face. "Let's go," she said, and stepped into the car.
Parker put the key in the ignition. "Look here, Miss Street," he said. "I know you are nervous, but I want you to know I promised Mr. Mason that I wouldn't let anything happen to you."
"Thank you, Allan," she said.
"He likes you a lot," the boy said, backing the car from the spot. "I don't blame him, either."
"That's very sweet of you," she said. "But I'm not afraid for me. I'm worried about him."
Parker looked over Della out into traffic. "Mr. Drake filled me in earlier about what happened, Miss Street. You got nothing to worry about. He's going to be just fine." He put his hand on her knee, not looking at her, but letting his fingers slide just inside the hem of her skirt. She jumped at his touch, but he just squeezed her knee. "You're in good hands, ma'am," he said. He put his hand back on the steering wheel and pulled out onto the street. "Very good ones."
Della looked up at the Brent Building as they drove by it. She thought about Perry, still finding it strange that he wouldn't have wanted to talk to her. Maybe Godfrey said something that upset him. Remembering the letters, Della sighed. Even though Perry had to know they weren't hers, she worried that he might pull away from her. I should have told him everything last night, she thought, then he'd have no reason at all to doubt me. She looked over at Parker, whose lazy blond hair blew in the sunshine. A little handsy, maybe, but Della couldn't help to feel anything but flattered. She sat up straighter and turned her face toward the skyline. A gull flew overhead, circling and then landing near a small child playing on a park bench. Parker was right; she didn't have anything to worry about. Perry would take care of himself, and the only one who would have something to fear was the boy driving the blue convertible she rode in. That is, Della laughed to herself, if I ever tell Perry about how he put his hand on my knee. She stretched out her leg and looked down at it, trying to see it as a twenty-five year old boy would. Glancing over at Parker a second before he could switch his gaze from her legs up to her eyes, Della Street smiled at him. If nothing else, it was nice to be with a man who noticed her.
She looked out again, but not in the mirror behind her. If Della had, she would have seen the driver of a black sedan who watched them, following, as they left the city on a lonely stretch of highway leading to the beach.