Never Forget

by Harper Shaw

  She doomed herself to a conviction when she’d kicked out that window. Hell, she’d doomed herself when she’d left that cell at all. She should have known better, but the lack of sleep and then the crazy pressures of the last few days had taken their toll. Plus, the riot gear cop might have killed her if she didn’t comply.

  Her options had sucked: death by riot gear cop or conviction for murder.

  She walked into the seedy motel, and the kid at the desk was more than happy to take her memorized credit card number. They probably didn’t care, considering many people who stayed there probably had stolen credit cards. This place was that kind of seedy. She got her key and made her way to the motel room, saying as little as she could to the kid. She didn’t want to get caught, not when her face would probably be blasted all over the news tomorrow.

  Better the kid barely remember her at all.

  She had to figure out how to get out of this. The motel wasn’t clean, and Rebecca looked around in disgust as she unlocked the door. Hopefully she didn’t get bed bugs. Not like she packed anything or had a suitcase. One towel looked cleaner than the rest of the room, so she laid it gently over top of the comforter, trying not to touch the stained blanket.

  She could only imagine what kind of clientele this motel had on a daily basis.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating what to do next. Only one thing came into her head.

  She had to find the actual killer. She had to get a confession that cops heard, not just her. That was the only way she was going to get out of this mess.

  Even if she got a confession to the murder, she needed someone to confess that they let her out of that jail cell. Because they would charge her with evading, and that would be almost the same as being charged for murder, which carried a heavy sentence.

  Too uncomfortable to sit, Rebecca paced the night away, checking out her window now and then to see if someone had followed her. She tried to convince herself that there was no way anyone would know where she was.

  She wasn’t a murderer, but now she had pretty much thrown away the key. She was going to go to prison if she was ever caught in the United States again. So, she needed to leave the states, needed to leave the continent entirely.

  She brooded for a long time, not really knowing how long. She must have slept at some point because the sun was up when the knock sounded on the door.

  Terrified, she wandered to the window and stuck her head in the crack.

  Surprised at who was standing outside the door, she opened it and let her father in. Beckoning him into her room, she quickly closed the door and locked it behind him.

  “How did you find me?”

  “It’s all over the news, and I figured you wouldn’t have gotten far without a car. So, I showed your picture and asked around.”

  “What are you doing here, Dad?” She should be relieved to see him, but if her father was able to find her that easily, it would take nothing for the Shroud or the cops to pick up her trail.

  “I came to help. Your mother and I want to help you get away. Mexico, maybe. How does Mexico sound to you? We don’t care what you might have done. We just can’t have you in prison.”

  “Dad, I didn’t kill anyone.”

  Her father shook his head, clearly not believing her.

  He handed over some cash and a fake passport.

  She opened it and saw her picture staring at her with a fake name and a fake number.

  “How did you even get this?”

  “Don’t worry about that now, I just want to get you somewhere safe.”

  “Dad, you know I didn’t do anything. Right?”

  “Your mother loves you. I love you. Get your stuff out of here and get yourself safe.”

  She wanted to cry as he said it. He didn’t believe her, either. Even her own parents thought she had murdered people. Even her own parents thought she’d escaped custody on purpose.

  Her heart was broken, even as she stared at the cash and the passport. Sure, she would get away. She would never see home again. Rebecca was now a fugitive from the law—one with a fake passport. There was no going back from this, there was no going to the before, when her worst problem had been her drinking.

  Her father didn’t say goodbye. He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her forehead. Then he left, still never even hinting he knew Rebecca didn’t kill anyone.

  Her parents thought she was a murderer. That hurt more than anything else.

  So, staring at the cash and the passport, tears flooded over. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe how her life had turned upside down in the past week. All because some asshole named the Shroud.

  All because some asshole wanted her life to be destroyed. Rebecca knew somebody was after her, and she knew that somebody was five steps ahead of her.

  She came to that knowledge too late, and she knew she was too late to use it. She was going out to go on the run. She was going to have to leave everything behind. She caught on to the game way too late to even know she was playing.

  And she had lost.

  She watched her father drive away out the window, and sobbed into her hands.

  She’d lost, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The clock ticked loudly in the corner of the airport lounge area.

  Rebecca stared longingly at the alcohol being passed to each of the patrons sitting on barstools. It would be an easy slipup, to have a drink right now. Justifiable, even. To everyone but herself and her sponsor.

  Seemed like the perfect reason to have a drink. To take the edge off. To numb the ever-growing pain. And that’s all she really wanted. She was losing everything, everything she’d ever worked for. Because some asshole had decided it was time for her to lose.

  Rebecca didn’t like losing, which was why sobriety had stuck over the last thirty days. Then again, she had lost everything else. Maybe it was time to lose at sobriety.

  The fake passport her father had given her had done its job, and she managed to get through security with a ticket to Buenos Aires. They didn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States, so once she got there, she’d be home free.

  With no friends, no family, and no job. She didn’t even know the language. Her parents hadn’t given her enough money to last for the rest of her life, only to get her there and keep her off the streets for a few days.

  If she used her bank accounts or her credit card again, the police would know where she was. The problem with that wasn’t to herself. It was that once they knew where she was, they would stop looking for whoever the real killer was.

  Rebecca wasn’t sure what kind of freedom that was, but it wasn’t anything she had wanted before. All she wanted to do was her job. Would it be better than prison?

  Rebecca hated running. It felt like losing, and she wasn’t a loser. She needed to find out who this killer was, clear her name, and get a confession. It was the only way she could start a life again in the United States. It was the only way she would no longer be on the run.

  She knew she wouldn’t have a job with El Paso police anymore, but that didn’t matter to her much anymore. What mattered was the truth.

  A man laughed loudly at the bar and slammed his glass down on a table. Rebecca twitched, everything inside her urging her just to take one drink. Every muscle, every fiber, wanted a drink. With one drink she should be able to solve this problem in front of her. Should be able to figure it out, all of it so easily, with just a little bit of alcohol to help her brain work.

  It would piss her sponsor off to hear her self-talk, but Rebecca didn’t care. She wanted a drink, more than anything.

  No, she wanted to find out who the actual killer was more than anything. Monica deserved that. She deserved to know who killed her that night all those years ago. Chad deserved to know the truth. His family deserved to know who actually killed him. That it wasn’t just a jilted lover with a gun, or a crazy ex-cop from El Paso.

  Eve
n that bitch Jennifer deserved to know who killed her, who lit her on fire, and watched her body burn. Rebecca had never gotten along with Jennifer. In fact she hated her. But that didn’t mean she deserved to die.

  And Dennis, poor Dennis, he deserved to know who killed him.

  Her heart ached at the thought of the man who had shown her such love and tenderness.

  She’d have to grieve for Dennis sometime. She knew that. Her emotions were frozen, and her thoughts were distant.

  A drink would help her grieve. It would help her feel the sadness she was longing to feel for the man who had believed her.

  Rebecca shook her head, trying to free it of the alcohol. That wasn’t important right now. What was important was to find the fucking Shroud.

  She needed to end this, once and for all.

  She owed it to all these people, all her old friends, to solve this murder for them. Solve all their murders for them. Everybody in Hilton Head was owed the truth, and Rebecca wasn’t sure if Chief Bradshaw could give it to them.

  If he was stuck on her being the killer, no one would know how it actually happened.

  Rebecca knew she had to find Bruce. He was the Shroud. She could feel it in her bones. She needed to find Bruce and bring him to justice, but she wasn’t really sure where to start.

  The clock turned to that time, and an announcement on the overhead speakers went out to the airport. It was time to board the flight that would take her away from all this shit. Time to leave all of this behind, start a new life, and forget that any of it had ever happened.

  Rebecca stood and tried to ignore the call of the alcohol, the call going out next to her. She didn’t have any bags, but that was fine. Her father had given her enough money to start over and cover at least a couple of days in Buenos Aires. He’d given her enough. Even if it wasn’t out of belief, even if it was doubt. All he wanted to do was save his daughter from a fate worse than death, even though he couldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt.

  Even though he didn’t believe her.

  Rebecca wasn’t sure what to do. She was at an impasse. Her life could lead one direction or another, and for the first time in her life she actually saw the line in the sand. She knew her future lay ahead of her. She could either go through that door, go through and start a new life in paradise, or she could find Bruce, get a confession, and figure out who the actual killer was.

  She wasn’t sure what type of person she was, not anymore. There would have been no question in the old Rebecca, even if she had been drunk. She would have done the right thing. But now, with self-preservation almost winning, and the stakes higher than they’d ever been before in her life, Rebecca stood at an impasse.

  She could go to jail, or she could go to Buenos Aires.

  With a sigh, she turned away from the future filled with freedom, beaches, hot weather, and maybe a lover or two. She turned away from the call of a beautiful heaven and headed toward the exit of the airport.

  She was going to stop running.

  Monica deserved the truth of her death to be told. And, as far as Rebecca could see it, she was the only one who knew the truth. She was the only one who knew that, all those years ago, they had concocted a story about her being drunk and tripping.

  Only Rebecca and Bruce knew the truth about all these killings, about all this senseless death. And the families of all her friends deserved the truth.

  She was the only one who knew it had been murder. Monica had been drinking that night, but that’s not what caused her to fall. There’d been a tripwire, set up for one of them, and it had taken Monica out instead. Then, the group of teenagers panicked, not knowing what to do with the dead body of their best friend lying on the ground.

  The world deserved to know what happened. Monica’s parents deserved to know the truth. And maybe, finally, Monica would be able to rest in peace.

  So, doing her duty for the dead, Rebecca strode out of the airport and hailed a cab.

  It was time she stopped running from her past. It was time she stopped thinking only about herself, and time she actually started thinking about somebody else in her life.

  “Where to?”

  “Hilton Head,” Rebecca said quietly.

  The cabbie nodded and drove away from the airport. She could tell he was giving her a look through the rear-view mirror, but Rebecca ignored him. As long as he didn’t drop her off at the police station, it was none of his business who she was.

  The future was in front of her. The bleak future, the one with jails and concrete. The one without clear skies and sand between her toes.

  But, for the first time since she could remember, Rebecca didn’t crave a drink. Her commitment to truth would keep her sober. Her commitment to coming clean about everything was fast and true.

  She didn’t care about herself anymore. There was no more reason for self-preservation.

  It was time she told the truth. It was time she found the actual killer and ended this.

  It was now or never.

  And all Rebecca could do was hope she wouldn’t regret this.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Rebecca stared at the chief’s house, waiting for darkness to completely envelope the cul-de-sac. She needed the cover of darkness, the absolute shadow of night, if she was going to pull this off.

  Rebecca needed to know what the chief knew. That was the only way she was going to find Bruce. That was the only way that she would bring justice to those who had died.

  No, not those who had died.

  Those who had been murdered.

  She hoped that the chief was working late tonight, and as there was no car in the driveway, she assumed he was trying to put the case together. Plus, the manhunt for her had more than doubled. It was the first time a prisoner has escaped custody in Hilton Head. Unfortunately for Chief Bradshaw, her escape had made national news.

  Rebecca was running out of time to clear her name. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to step into a grocery store anywhere in America without having the police called.

  Bruce was the only one left of them, the only one who could have done this. And Rebecca fully intended to survive any encounter and solve the murders. So, she needed to know what the police knew. She needed to know the forensics, and she needed to know why her prints seemed to be the only prints on every murder weapon.

  In her gut, she knew Faruq believed her. It was too set up, too perfect, how evidence pointing toward her was the only evidence available. She had tried to save Chad, she had tried to save Jennifer, and she had tried to save Dennis. The vision of the water rising, of Dennis drowning, filled her head and Rebecca had to close her eyes tightly to try to rid it of the headache that grew with the water.

  This wasn’t the time to deal with that image. To deal with the absolute failure of killing Dennis. Of him dying slowly before she could save him.

  She could really use a fucking drink. The blissful release of alcohol would work to drive that image out of her head.

  But now wasn’t the time. She had to break into the chief’s house and figure out what type of evidence he had on her. Only then could she have the hope of finding Bruce and also, maybe, solving this case.

  She was still thinking like a cop because she hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that the El Paso Police Department was going to fire her. It was only a matter of time after the truth of Monica’s death came out, and Rebecca was at peace with that. But she was going to use her cop’s brain as an advantage right now. And she was going to build the case systematically.

  Unfortunately, it meant now was the time to break into the chief of police’s house.

  Using the darkness and the shadows of the rising night, Rebecca snuck through the back hedges and ran up to Chief Bradshaw’s back door. Taking a credit card out of her back pocket, she easily picked the lock and wound her way into the dark house.

  No one was home. Rebecca was sure of it. She stepped her way through the back kitchen and found a flashlight. Then she flipped it on and st
arted searching quietly through the house. She searched room by room but kept her tread silent. She wanted to hear when Faruq came home.

  She made her way to the bedroom and almost fell backward when she saw Faruq and another man lying in bed.

  “Shit,” she said out loud. That was it for her being sneaky. Faruq fired awake and turned on his bedside lamp. Then he yanked open a drawer on his bedside table and drew a pistol out of it before he realized what he was doing.

  “It’s just me,” Rebecca said, holding her hands up over her head. “Don’t shoot me.”

  “Morgan?”

  He rubbed his eyes sleepily while the blond man in the bed next to him simply looked terrified.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Morgan? You should be long gone by now, considering you fled custody.”

  “That wasn’t me, Chief. Some cop in riot gear let me out. Actually, they handcuffed me and put me in an unmarked vehicle. I thought that maybe it was shady, so I kicked out the back window and ran.”

  “We don’t have riot gear in Hilton Head,” Faruq said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never sent anyone to take you out of that jail cell.”

  “I think it was Bruce,” Rebecca answered hastily. Faruq rolled his eyes, but Rebecca tried to interrupt his thoughts. “Just hear me out, Chief. He’s the only one of us left alive, the only one who was there when Monica was murdered.”

  “And you… seems convenient? Pin it on the only other one left alive.”

  “You know it’s too easy to get me, you have to know. How could only my prints be all over every murder weapon? It doesn’t even make any sense. Does it, Faruq? I’m not the only one who thinks it. You’ve been thinking it too.”

  “So what? I might think it,” Faruq rubbed his face, “but I’m a cop, and I have to follow the evidence. And the evidence leads straight to you.”

  “Tell me, have you ever had a murder case go so well? Has it ever been that easy for you to find someone, find the forensics, get all the story straight, as it has been in this entire case?”