Kill Me Again, page 7
“No.” She said it quickly, her decision made. “No, I’m coming with you. I’ll go get what I need and lock up.”
He seemed relieved. Turning, he closed the liftgate as Olivia drew a deep breath and headed back into the house. She closed the door behind her, set her jaw and walked calmly to the telephone stand for a notepad and pen. Then she scribbled a simple note for Bryan.
Dropping out of sight for a few days. Past lives catching up to me. Everything’s okay so far. Just need some time. I’ll call you in a few days, and that’s a promise. If I don’t—things have gone very wrong.
Best, Olivia.
She left the note on the coffee table, with a paperweight on top to keep it from drifting off. Bryan would find it if he decided to come looking for her. He would understand what she meant. “Past lives”—he would know that meant Tommy. He would know to come looking for her if he didn’t hear from her. He would know what to do.
She’d worked too hard to stay alive all this time to just put her hard-won life into the hands of any man now—even if that man was Aaron Westhaven. She needed to take some precautions of her own, and she didn’t particularly care if her favorite writer liked it or not.
She hurried to the kitchen to lock the back door and secure the dog door. Back in the living room, she grabbed her handbag and jacket from the closet, then headed out the front, locking the door behind her.
She paused on the step, looking through the darkest of nights at the sleeping town where she’d built her new life. Shadow Falls had been her salvation. She hoped to God she would be alive to return and reclaim her life there. But she had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that nothing was ever going to be the same again.
Aaron. As he drove, he couldn’t get his head around thinking of himself by that name. It didn’t feel any more familiar to him than Jack or Joe or a hundred other names he could think of. Then again, he’d spent a lot of time in his hospital room running through every male name he could think of, and none of them had sent any sparks of recognition sizzling through his head. None of them.
Still, he was worried. “Aaron” didn’t seem to fit. The persona of a novel-scribbling loner felt like a suit that was a couple of sizes too tight. And the dreams or flashbacks or visions he’d had of himself with a gun in his hand and a body at his feet certainly didn’t seem to reflect the life of a reclusive novelist.
And now he had a sidekick.
Bringing Olivia with him probably hadn’t been the brightest idea he’d ever had. She was bound to be a problem. Oh, she might seem like a staid, boring, highly intelligent professor, but she was clearly something else entirely. She had her own baggage, her own secrets—big, deadly secrets—hiding in her eyes, not to mention lurking in the shadows of her home last night. He’d heard her attacker call her Sarah and demand that she give him “the disks.” What the hell was that about? Was the reserved intellectual actually leading a double life? Who was she really? And why had he come to Shadow Falls to see her?
It had to be related to what had happened to him. She had to be involved somehow. And sticking with her was the only way to find out how. Staying alive while he did it was imperative, so hitting the road was the only solution.
Before they’d traveled ten miles, however, she was digging her cell phone out of her oversize handbag.
“Turn that thing off.”
She shot him a quick look, probably startled by his deep voice breaking the nighttime silence. “But I have to let the university know I won’t be in for a few days. I’ll just tell them I’m sick. And I have to call Carrie, too.”
“It’s 3:00 a.m., Olivia.”
“I was just going to leave messages.”
“Not yet.”
She turned off the phone, but she frowned at him, and he knew she was going to argue. He could see her gearing up for it in the way her jaw got a little tighter and her eyes a little more intense. He thought she might be about to lose her temper with him. And he found himself looking forward to it.
But then she licked her lips, took a breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not going to tell anyone where we are or what we’re doing,” she said, calmly and rationally. “But if I wanted to do that, and I thought it would be best for me, I’d do it. You need to know that about me.”
Logical. Straightforward. The closest she’d come to losing it had been when she’d thought her dog had been dead on her living-room floor. Threats to her own life seemed to have far less emotional impact on her.
“You wouldn’t have to tell anyone where you are. You wouldn’t even have to make a call. With your cell phone on, anyone with the know-how can track you.”
Her brows went up, and she stared at him, the stubborn intellectual gone. There was worry in her eyes now. Maybe even fear. He decided he preferred the stubbornness. He knew what had instigated the change, though. She must be wondering how he’d come by the knowledge he’d just imparted. She had to be, because he was wondering the same thing.
“I must have done a lot of research—for my writing,” he said, attempting to answer her question before she could ask it. But it rang false to him. It felt like a lie.
“You never wrote any crime thrillers, Aaron.”
“Now how can you be so sure about that?”
She averted her eyes. That was telling, that little thing. Looking away, as if embarrassed or ashamed or lying right back at him. She cleared her throat, lifted her chin a little. “I’ve read everything you’ve written,” she said.
“Oh.” He fell silent for a moment, trying to come up with an answer that would reassure her. This wasn’t going to work if she was going to turn suspicious of him at every turn.
What wasn’t going to work? his mind asked him. You don’t even know what the hell you’re doing, pal.
But he felt as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if this kind of thing was second nature to him. Running, hiding, going off the radar to get his shit together. To regroup. To strategize.
He gripped the wheel a little tighter and came up with what he hoped was a reasonable answer. “You’ve read everything I’ve published,” he said. “I could be an aspiring thriller writer with stacks of unpublishable crime novels under my desk, for all you know—or for all I know.”
Her head came back around, eyes interested, brows raised, fear erased. “That’s true, you might.” And then she smiled, sighed as if in relief, and shook her head in a self-deprecating way. “That’s got to be it. You know all of the things you do because of research you’ve done.”
“Or books I’ve read,” he said. “Maybe I’m a big thriller fan, even though I write…what would you call it? Sappy, emotional melodrama?”
“I would never call it that, and you shouldn’t, either. It’s not sappy. It is emotional, but not in that way. It’s…emotional realism.”
From the back, Freddy released a loud, long snore that sounded like some cartoon sound effect more than a real dog.
“He’ll sleep for at least an hour now,” she said. “Maybe more, given the tranquilizer.”
But he was still focused on the earlier conversation. “You’ve read everything? You really are a fan, aren’t you?”
She lifted her gaze again. It was a little bit soft, as if he were seeing behind the mask she wore. “I’m more than a fan.”
Alarm bells went off. Was she an obsessed fan? A stalker type? God, that would be an added complication, wouldn’t it? She didn’t seem like that kind, though. “How do you mean?” he asked, his tone cautious.
She shrugged. “If you really feel the way your character Harvey does about life and love and loneliness, then I feel more like a…a kindred spirit, I guess.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I guess I’m only a kindred spirit to Harvey. Either way, you must understand him. Identify with him.”
“So it stands to reason I would understand and identify with you.” He nodded. “I’ve got to read some of my books.”
“I anticipated that, brought some of them along. We can take turns driving if you want to read a little.” She blinked then, as if she’d just thought of something. “You didn’t forget how to drive.”
“I didn’t even think about that.” He looked at his hands on the wheel and nodded. “It was kind of automatic, getting into the driver’s seat. It didn’t even occur to me that I might not know how.” He felt himself smiling and realized it was the first time since waking up without a past.
“Maybe everything you ever knew is still right there, inside your mind,” Olivia said. “Maybe it just hasn’t quite surfaced.”
He nodded. “I hope you’re right about that.”
“So…when do you think it would be safe for me to make those calls? Not that I’m asking permission, of course.”
“Of course. My suggestion,” he said, “would be to wait until we can pick up a new phone or two. The prepaid ones would be harder to trace.”
“So we need to stop somewhere.”
He nodded. “Once it’s daylight. And only if we can get access to some cash. If we use plastic, they’ll trace us.”
“Well, even I knew that much,” she said. “But I think you might be a little overly cautious here, Aaron. It’s highly unlikely anyone is even looking for us yet.”
“Oh, trust me. They’re looking. Those nurses are pretty diligent about waking up patients every hour or so. Mostly to tell them to get some sleep.”
She smiled a little at that.
“Besides, we already know someone is looking. Maybe not the police, not yet. But my shooter’s looking for me, and your housebreaker is looking for you. There’s no question about that. And we don’t know how sophisticated these men are—assuming they’re not the same man.”
“Or how sophisticated the guys who hired them are.”
He frowned. “You think someone hired that man to break in to your house, don’t you? And you have a good idea who.”
Her face went serious, and she gave a nod. “I can get us plenty of cash.”
“ATM?”
She frowned at him. “Wouldn’t they, whoever they are, pick up on that faster than they would be able to track a cell phone?” she asked, and he wasn’t sure if it was just him, or if she was starting to sound a little impatient. “And wouldn’t it look fairly suspicious if I took a big chunk of cash out of the bank on the same night you went missing?”
“See? Even you’ve read a few thrillers.”
“I read widely. I’m an English professor, after all.” And then the stuffy facade wavered a little. “And I watch the occasional episode of Law and Order.”
He glanced over at her, caught her sheepish expression as she admitted to what had to be a guilty pleasure, and for just an instant he got caught up in the way her thick black lashes framed her chocolate-brown eyes. A few crow’s-feet appeared at their outer corners when she smiled, but he got the feeling she hadn’t smiled a lot in her life. Then he forced his gaze back to the road, a feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him he had just been looking at the biggest potential complication of all.
She was gorgeous. And he was attracted to her. He had to stop letting those facts catch him by surprise.
“Once people realize that you vanished on the same night I did, there’s going to be plenty of cause for suspicion, believe me,” he said, getting his head back on topic.
“Maybe not. I can be convincing on the phone, and I left a note at the house for Bryan in case he shows up and—”
He hit the brake pedal, jerked the wheel and brought the SUV to a stop on the shoulder, raising a cloud of dust behind them and sending Freddy sliding. “You left a note?”
Her brown eyes went slightly wider, and she clenched her jaw so tightly he thought her teeth must be grinding against each other. She nodded once, as if she’d just reached a firm decision, and closed her hand around the door handle as if she were getting ready to calmly step from the SUV in the middle of nowhere.
He drew a slow breath. “What did you write in the note?”
“None of your business.”
“It is my business, since my life is on the line here, too.” But her jaw was still firm, and she wasn’t meeting his eyes. Her nostrils flared just a little, and he thought of a skittish horse getting ready to run flat out. He drew a deep, slow breath, calmed his tone and spoke to her the way he imagined someone would need to speak to that horse.
“I shouldn’t be snapping at you. Up to now you’ve helped me a lot. And I’ve helped you, too. But I need you to know that I’m scared, Olivia. I’m scared that guy who tried to kill me will find us and try again, and maybe succeed this time. And dammit, I don’t know what kind of life I’d be leaving behind, but I don’t think I’m ready to die before I even find out.”
Her face softened just a little. She blinked, and her hand relaxed its grip on the door. “I didn’t give anything away in the note. I’m not an idiot,” she said.
“No one would mistake you for an idiot, Olivia. But…just to ease my mind, would you please tell me what you wrote? Word for word? Please?”
She blinked twice as she remembered. “I think…‘Dropping out of sight for a few days. Everything’s okay. Just need some time. I’ll call you in a few days.’”
He sighed, nodded and put the SUV back into gear as he wondered if she was leaving anything out. He sensed she was. That gut instinct again. He hoped it wasn’t leading him on a wild-goose chase.
“So it didn’t give anything away, just like I said. No harm done.”
“Except that he’ll call out the National Guard if he doesn’t hear from you in a few days.”
“That was the entire point,” she said. “It’s the bad guys we’re running from, remember?”
He thinned his lips, realizing that kindred spirit or not, this woman didn’t trust him. Maybe she didn’t trust anyone.
He put the SUV into motion again. “Look, we’re in this together. Could you maybe tell me what you’re doing next time?”
“I’m not used to answering to anyone. I’m not sure I want to be.”
She sounded pissed off. He glanced at her and knew he’d hit on a touchy subject, having a man trying to control her. He needed to come off much less alpha male than he was currently managing. She wanted a reclusive bookworm; maybe he ought to try to give her one. “I probably overreacted,” he said. “I’m tense and frustrated, and I know you are, too. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She nodded. “Just don’t let it happen again, Aaron.”
The words were delivered with a cold firmness he hadn’t even glimpsed in her until then. He looked at her.
“I mean it,” she said. “I won’t be around a violent man.”
“Violent? I didn’t lay a hand—”
“A hot temper is a hot temper. Your reaction was violent. I do not tolerate violence in any man, Aaron. I won’t.” She lowered her head, shaking it slowly. “Not ever again.”
If she’d punched him in the face, he wouldn’t have felt more thoroughly put in his place—or shocked. Clearly she’d been subjected to violence at the hands of a man before. He disagreed that barking a question and bringing the SUV to a sudden halt were evidence of violence, but she clearly thought otherwise. And he felt a touch of remorse at making her think he was capable of violence, then thought that was a surprising thing for him to feel.
She was as flighty as a hunted animal—admittedly with good reason. But she had a core in her that had to be solid steel. He’d seen it in her eyes just then.
“I won’t let it happen again,” he said.
She nodded. “If you do, it’ll be the last conversation we ever have.”
After several minutes of driving in silence, he decided he didn’t like the tension that had sprouted between them. It was of no use to him. In fact, it would work against him. He had to put her at ease again. He decided to try to divert her attention to a different subject.
“So if you’re not going to an ATM, where is this cash coming from?”
“I have an…emergency fund.”
He thinned his lips. “Now you sound like the one with an uncanny knowledge of how to disappear.”
She shrugged but didn’t explain why she had such a fund, or why she didn’t keep it at home, which made him even more curious.
“I have a safe-deposit box in Burlington,” she said. “It’s an hour from here. Take the next right, then get on the highway.”
“All right.”
“And now that you’ve pissed me off, I’ll add that if you want to stop me from calling Carrie Overton, you’re going to have to use that gun you took from my attacker.”
He shot her a look, blinking.
“Besides, if you think they’re not going to call Carrie when they find you missing from the hospital, you’d better think again. At the very least, she’ll be talking to Bryan the minute she gets to work in the morning, and believe me, Carrie Overton’s workday begins way earlier than we can get into a bank, empty my safe-deposit box and go buy prepaid cell phones.”
He kept on driving, trying not to show his surprise.
“She’ll tell them I’ve got Professor Mallory’s car, Aaron. Unless I talk to her first.”
Dammit, she was right.
At length he glanced her way, gave her a nod. “It shouldn’t matter. We haven’t gone very far yet, anyway. Go ahead and leave her a message. Keep it short, and turn the phone off after you finish, okay? Please?”
She nodded once, then dialed as he drove, and he thought again that there was a lot more to this woman than he had first imagined. She might look like a mild-mannered English teacher with a boring life and a dog as her closest companion. An introverted, probably repressed woman who kept the world at bay and her hair in a tight bun.
But all of that had peeled back a little further just now, and he’d glimpsed a frightened tigress hiding underneath, crouched and ready to spring. He’d unintentionally poked that cat with a stick and gotten a taste of her temper for his trouble. If cornered, he thought, she would come at him with claws and teeth bared, fan of his alleged work or not.
