by Aria Johnson
In front of the toilet, I dropped to my knees and vomited.
• • •
It didn’t take long to finish loading up the car. In the course of the past four years, I’d learned the art of packing fast. The only difference in this move was that it was taking place in the dead of night.
Before leaving our neighborhood, I made a pit stop at Polly’s house. I didn’t ring the bell. I quietly placed the pouch filled with Ryan’s coin collection inside the mailbox and then dashed to my car.
“Where’re we going this time, Mommy?” Bran asked from the backseat.
“I was thinking Arizona, sweetie.” I tried to sound cheerful, but I was terribly unhappy. Bone tired and weary.
When I’d shown Bran the stolen coins I’d found inside the stuffed animal, his reaction was troubling. Feigning astonishment, his eyes widened in delight. “Did the tooth fairy leave those for me?”
“Why would the tooth fairy leave you anything when you didn’t lose a tooth?” I was amazed by his cunning and horrified by his deceitful smile.
“Maybe she left me all that money because I’ve been such a good little boy,” he said, maintaining an expression of innocence.
Without uttering another word, I simply began tossing items into plastic crates.
After all I’d gone through to get Bran away from Ava, I couldn’t turn my back on him now. We had to leave Wyoming and go somewhere where he could get a fresh start. I couldn’t stay here and allow him to be labeled a thief and be ostracized by his peers.
Since discovering the stolen coins, it had briefly occurred to me to stop running and let Walter catch up with us. Let him claim his thieving son.
But I couldn’t do that to Bran. It wasn’t as if Walter wanted to provide a loving home for him. His only reason for pursuing us was to seize his offspring and put him on the auction block and sell him to a pedophile.
The stresses of being on the run with Bran had taken a toll on me. I glanced in the rearview mirror and cringed at my haggard reflection. It was if I were seeing the deepening lines in my face, my rapidly graying hair, and the bags under my eyes for the very first time.
“Does Arizona sound good to you, Bran?”
“I’m looking up facts about Arizona, right now,” he responded, his head down as he studied the screen of his iPad. Brushing back his red hair, he looked up at me, his eyes filled with intelligence. “There’s a large Native American population there. Can we visit a reservation? I want to learn about their culture,” he said enthusiastically.
“Sure, we could attend a powwow or one of their ceremonies.”
“Yay!” He rubbed his hands together excitedly and I was reminded of how Walter had rubbed his hands together at the idea of volunteering in the horticulture department. What Walter had actually been excited about was the possibility of finding a mark for his next big con, and he found Veronica.
The last time I’d been in touch with Veronica, I was saddened to learn she’d gotten hip replacement surgery and that it hadn’t healed correctly. She was wheelchair dependent now and was residing at an assisted-living facility.
From the rearview mirror, I regarded Bran warily, wondering if he’d seen a sparkly trinket on a Native American website. Or an interesting ancient artifact that he craved to stuff inside his pocket. It was terrible having to second-guess my son’s motives, but I didn’t have a choice. I no longer trusted him and had to make sure I stayed several steps ahead of him.
Now that I was aware of Bran’s penchant for lying and stealing, it was my responsibility as a parent to keep him on the right track. By enlisting the help of a child psychologist, hopefully Bran would be provided with tools that would teach him how to deal with his larcenous tendencies. With lots of therapy he would at least have a chance of leading a normal life.
Feeling hopeful, I turned around and gave Bran a stiff smile. “I love you,” I assured him.
“I love you, too, Mommy,” he replied, and then winked at me.
In that moment, he looked uncannily like Winking Walter, and a chill ran down my spine. I wondered if motherly love and intense therapy were enough to alter the behavior of someone who was genetically wired to be corrupt.
With a shaky hand, I tapped the screen of the navigation system, inputting the information for our next destination. Gripping the steering wheel, I took a deep breath before heading for the interstate highway.
About the Author
Aria Johnson is from Atlanta, GA. She grew up reading Mary Higgins Clark and Danielle Steele, Sidney Sheldon and other masters of thrillers and love. She always dreamed of writing spellbinding stories in which nothing is what it seems. Aria is hard at work on her next novel in her home office overlooking a dense forest.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2016 by Aria Johnson
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ISBN 978-1-59309-696-0
ISBN 978-1-5011-1914-9 (ebook)
LCCN 2016948654
First Infinite Words trade paperback edition October 2016
Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com
Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Keith Saunders Photos
Book design: Red Herring Design, Inc.
Cover design by Marion Designs
Cover photo by Keith Saunders Photos
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