Skin Tight

by Ava Gray

  Instead, the silence built.

  When she finally spoke, it shocked the hell out of him. “Is it because I’m not really your mother?”

  Oh, Beulah, you canny old sweetheart.

  “How long have you known?” There was no point in denying it. He was only amazed she’d continued the ruse for so long.

  She gave a little sigh. “Oh, honey, I always knew.”

  “Then why . . . ?”

  “So that’s your real voice. It’s nice. Educated. And . . . well. I reckoned if you needed a mama bad enough to lie, then it didn’t hurt me to pretend. And you’ve sure taken care of me over the years.” Her white, sightless eyes roved upward. “Better than Jimmy Lee. Is he dead? I always wondered.”

  “Prison. It’ll be a long time before he gets out.”

  “I wish I could say I’m surprised.” Her voice grew choked, her wrinkled face drawing into a sad frown. “He was never a . . . nice boy. Truth is, I love you like a son and I don’t even know your name. But you’ve been so good, the way you visit—oh, mercy, look, I’m getting misty.” Her face crumpled.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  She sniffed and wiped her eyes with a dainty, embroidered handkerchief she’d withdrawn from the pocket of her house-coat. “It’s not always a bad thing. Does this mean you’ll stop coming? Now that you know I know.”

  “No,” he said. “I’ll be here for you, as long as you need me.”

  After all, neither of them had anyone else.

  In the morning, Mia had a good breakfast with the Dixons and then, as promised, Harold drove her into town. Harmony was a one-traffic light affair, where all the businesses lined up on Main Street. The architecture was subtly Colonial.

  As the old man parked the car, she couldn’t help feeling nervous. She’d broken the law before, but now she was about to file a false police report. They’d probably ask her to describe the guy. Mia closed her eyes to gather her courage and then climbed out of the ancient Buick. Harold would doubtless describe it as classic.

  The police department was a small brick building, where four uniformed officers were drinking coffee. Most of them were well past middle age, and they didn’t look up to anything more serious than saving a kitten stuck in a tree. Two of them did notice the arrival and turned to offering inquiring looks.

  Harold cleared his throat. “Is Deke around?”

  “In his office.”

  “Well, go get him,” the old man snapped.

  Presently a barrel-chested man only slightly younger than Harold ambled out of the back. His color was high, ruddy on rounded cheeks, and he had a tonsure of white hair that looked like baby duck down. “What can I do you for, Hal?”

  The old man, who had softened since last night, laid out her story for the sheriff or captain or whatever this guy’s title was. Mr. Dixon came from an era where men took care of women, and Mia didn’t mind right at the moment. She studied her borrowed Converse sneakers, which were two sizes too big. But that was just as well with the bandages.

  Once he’d gotten the gist, Deke barked, “Winston! Are you writing this down?”

  One of the uniforms snapped to his feet and got a pad. “I am now.”

  It took about an hour to file the report. Guilt prodded at her.

  “And you can’t be more specific about where you were camping?” the officer asked.

  “I’m afraid not. My friend Kelly was in charge of the planning.”

  “And where’s Kelly now?”

  Shit. Did they think she’d left a body in the woods? Think fast.

  “She texted me that she’d gotten a ride home, but I lost my bearings in the woods. I walked a really long way before I found the Dixon place, and I managed to lose my phone.”

  “What’s Kelly’s personal information in case we need to talk to her? We could use corroboration in your description of the perp.”

  “Look,” she said. “I just want to get this over with. I doubt you’re going to catch the guy. He’s probably a hundred miles away by now.”

  “In his painted van,” Harold agreed.

  The sheriff narrowed his eyes on her. “And I doubt you’ve told me the whole story.” You wouldn’t believe me if I did. “But it’s not a crime to turn up dirty and ragged, unless Harold wants to prosecute you for trespassing.”

  “Alice would skin me alive.”

  “Then I believe we’re done here.”

  Not quite yet. “Could I use your phone to call a friend? It’s a cell phone, but I’ll reimburse you for the cost when she wires me the money.”

  “There’s a Western Union at the Safeway,” Harold offered.

  “But she needs ID to pick up the money,” one of the uniforms pointed out.

  Crap. She needed to get in touch with Kyra, pick up some money, and find a way to e-mail the old Addison Foster account. She still remembered the information from the business card he’d given her, nearly a year ago now. Surely the library offers free Net, even in a town this size.

  “You can use the phone,” Deke said. “Don’t worry about reimbursing us.”

  But how was she going to take care of the wire transfer? Mia regarded Harold speculatively. “How far is the Safeway?”

  The old man furrowed his brow. “Two miles, give or take.”

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you one more favor.”

  “Honey,” Harold said with a smirk, “Alice would skin me alive for that, too.”

  A rich group guffaw rewarded his sally, and Mia’s cheeks heated. This was absurd. Despite a good night’s sleep and a full stomach, she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Well, metaphorically, anyway. At this point, she needed to get back to Søren; he could protect her if they were still looking for her.

  If not, well . . . she loved him. She wanted him. It was that simple. She’d found the man she’d never walk away from, whether he wanted her or not.

  She offered a half smile. “I’ll have to restrain myself. A different favor, then, if you have the time?”

  Harold grinned, acknowledging that she was a good sport. “I’m seventy-eight years old. What do you think I do all day?”

  “Then I need the address of the Safeway and the telephone.”

  A uniformed cop offered her a seat at the desk while someone else wrote down the information. Mia had no idea what time it was in Sinagpore—or if Kyra was still there; she implored merciful gods that her friend would answer the phone. Taking a deep breath, she dialed. It rang three times, making her think it would roll to voice mail and then:

  “Hello?” Groggy. Kyra.

  Great, she’d woken her up. But she’d reached her. “It’s Mia.”

  “What’s wrong? Are you in trouble? I got your e-mail. You said it was complicated.”

  What the hell? And then it hit her. Søren. He must’ve remembered what I said about not wanting Kyra to worry. Thank God.

  She took the cue. “The situation has been upgraded from complicated to a big fucking mess. Can you wire me some money?”

  “Of course.” Kyra proved why she was the best of all possible friends, no questions asked. “Give me the information, and I’ll find an all-night transfer agent somewhere. If I have to, I’ll call it in and put it on Rey’s card.” Mia heard a bass rumble in the background and then: “He wants to know how much you need. The gold card has a 10K limit, but he has a platinum with no balance and a higher line of credit.”

  “Your boyfriend would send me that much money?” She was flabbergasted.

  This time, she heard the answer clearly; he must’ve leaned closer to the phone. “Absolutely. You sent me Kyra, and she’s priceless.”

  God, how she envied them.

  She collected herself, realizing she had a small precinct listening to every word. “I don’t need much, a few hundred to buy clothes and to travel on. I can take the bus from here, I think.” At Harold’s nod of confirmation, she gave Kyra the pertinent information regarding the local Safeway, and then added, “I don’t have ID
, so you’ll need to send the money to Harold Dixon. He’s helping me out.”

  “Give him a kiss for me, then,” Kyra said. “But no ID? That isn’t like you. What’s going on? Do you need backup? Say the word, and we’re on a plane.”

  Love and gratitude flooded her. With warrants outstanding, it would be risky for Kyra to come back into the country on a plane. Her crimes weren’t high profile, but there was always a risk when crossing international borders.

  “No, I’ll be fine. I just had my purse stolen and a scare, that’s all.”

  “If I don’t hear from you on a new cell phone within twenty-four hours, I’m on my way. I know you were in Exeter last, so that’s where I’ll start looking.”

  “Noted. But it’s not necessary. This is more than enough.”

  “Then let me get the money sent. Love ya, M. Talk soon.”

  She smiled, teary with relief. “You, too, Special K.”

  Kyra was laughing when she hung up; Mia knew why. She hadn’t called her friend that in years. The cops were watching her warily, as if they expected her to start bawling. Mia proved them wrong by reining it in and wiping her eyes discreetly.

  “So you’ve got someone sending you money, care of me? That’s clever. I guess we’d better head over to the Safeway and wait for it.” Offering the other men a jaunty wave, Harold shambled toward his elderly Buick out front.

  Inside the grocery store, they waited for nearly two hours before the wire came through. To pass the time, she pulled a free local newzine from the stand outside and read the classified ads. Harold took possession of the money, and he was wide-eyed to discover Kyra had sent a full grand in emergency funding. Mia offered a hundred for his trouble, but he wouldn’t take it.

  “Alice wouldn’t like it,” he muttered. “Besides, this is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

  “Then maybe you wouldn’t mind driving me around a little longer?”

  “Not at all.”

  Finally, something was going right. At the Safeway, she found a tote bag and a paperback by Eve Silver that looked interesting. From here, she could put things back together one step at a time: a few clothes, a stop at the library, and then a bus ticket. But . . . where to?

  CHAPTER 28

  Søren permitted himself a final glance at the bedroom where he’d made love to Mia for the first time. It was a sentimental indulgence, one that excoriated him from within. He could see her cinnamon skin against the white sheets, hear the soft sounds she made. His hands coiled into fists.

  With that, he spun on his heels and left the cabin for good. There was no point in lingering here. Nothing struck him as quite so pathetic as a man without a purpose, and yet he had none.

  Certainly, he could devote himself to finding other satellite labs and killing more monsters in human skin: men like Rowan. But when Mia died, he’d lost his taste for killing. It was as if her loss had snuffed his anger, leaving him weighted with sorrow instead.

  The Infiniti started with a purr, and he directed the car toward the highway. He could not wait to put Virginia behind him, even if the departure heralded a number of unpalatable realities. But the time had come to man up and accept that some bitter truths could never be altered.

  He drove with iron focus, not allowing himself to dwell on what awaited him. The Maryland state line didn’t offer any sense of escape. Instead, he felt more oppressed. By the time he turned in to the parking lot at Whispering Pines, he was sweating. His hands shook on the steering wheel and he leaned his forehead against it, rebuilding his composure.

  Several long moments passed before he could exit the vehicle.

  It took hours on the bus to return to Exeter.

  When she disembarked, she headed immediately for the condo to check her e-mail. But there was nothing. Unfortunately, she couldn’t remember where Søren’s rental chalet was, nor was the information listed.

  Maybe he’s dead, said a small, insidious voice. Maybe he got the Viking funeral pyre he wanted, down in the lab.

  No, she told herself. I’d know.

  And maybe, with his mission accomplished, he’d simply moved on. Maybe for a man like him, it was as easy as that. At what point did she give up and take the hint? When hell freezes over, her inner voice answered. He could damn well look her in the eyes and say good-bye, if that was how it would be.

  The next day, Mia managed to get her ID replaced by jumping through a series of governmental hoops. She also bought a new car—one she purchased herself—and she was staying in the old couple’s condo. They had shown understanding about her “family emergency” and said it had been no trouble to have the neighbor feed Peaches while she was gone.

  So now that her immediate problems had been solved, she needed to apply her problem-solving skills to locating one singular man. Mia sat down at the kitchen table and leaned down to pet the cat twining around her ankles.

  She took up a pen and notepad and began to outline the obstacles. If he has a cell phone, I don’t know the number. Yes, that was a problem. Can’t remember the location of the cabin. Another problem. Not answering e-mails. She refused to consider that a hint. Maybe he had stopped checking that particular account. She also refused to entertain the possibility that he hadn’t made it out of the facility. The very idea roused sickness in her gut.

  He’s fine, and I’ll find him.

  The obvious solution occurred to her then. She’d hack Micor Technologies and get the address. If nothing else, they should still have it on file. It hadn’t been long enough for HR to purge the data files.

  She got out her brand-new laptop and stroked the shiny silver lid. This thing was sleek and fast, and she’d thoroughly enjoyed spending money on it. Mia gave thanks that the condo was wired for high-speed internet and plugged in. It had been ages since she’d done this, but she hadn’t forgotten how.

  It took five minutes to mask her IP and bounce her query through a European server, and then she went for Micor. Getting in required a little more expertise, but the HR end wasn’t exactly like the National Trust. Mia found it no challenge overall, and soon she had the information she wanted. She scrawled the address and then got out of the system. There was no point in hotdogging, though she was tempted to give everyone pay raises.

  Mia jammed her feet into a random pair of shoes. Not bothering to check her hair, she grabbed a jacket and sprinted for the door, vaulting the cat along the way. She took the stairs two at a time and dove into the car. God, it seemed so long since she’d seen him.

  “Are yo u positive?” Søren asked hoarsely.

  Around him, the well-appointed office faded to nothing. He might’ve been sitting in a cavern or a rocky outcropping. He gripped the edges of his chair, desperate to stay grounded.

  The doctor offered a comforting smile, but it left him cold. “Mr. Winter, four specialists have examined your daughter in the last two days. I rarely say this, but there is no hope. She has no higher brain function. Though I understand it is difficult to let go, I cannot offer you any prospect of a miracle.”

  “So you recommend termination of life support.” They always did. It was so easy for them to speak of it.

  “According to her file, this is not the first time you’ve heard that suggestion,” Dr. Geddy said. There was no judgment in his tone; for a physician, he had more than his share of compassion.

  “No. But it’s the first time I am considering it.”

  “It’s a difficult decision. You will want to discuss it with other family members and make sure everyone is in accord. If one person makes the call, often it can lead to familial strife.”

  “There’s only me. And my mother,” he added, before the tiny furrow in the other man’s brow could blossom into a full-fledged frown.

  “Then you should talk with her. The elderly often possess a great deal of wisdom in these matters, and Beulah is sharper than most.” Dr. Geddy smiled with real affection. Unlike most facilities, the staff here appeared to care.

  When Søren moved on, he wo
uldn’t take Beulah from this place. Here, she could live out her days in peace and security.

  “That she is.” He almost smiled, remembering how she’d taken full advantage of his pretense, playing it to the hilt. And then he remembered what he’d lost—what more he was about to lose. “I’ll just go visit with her.”

  “Good. If you need me, I’ll be here for a couple hours yet. Let me know what you decide.”

  It didn’t take long for Mia to cover the distance to his cabin, twenty minutes, but it was just as well she didn’t pass any policemen. Her hands were none too steady on the wheel; she didn’t know what he’d say, what she’d say for that matter.

  Maybe their whole relationship had been born of stress, and now that the danger had passed, he wouldn’t want her. Over the past days, she had decided there would be no more pursuit. Whatever had happened down in that lab, they wouldn’t be sending goons after her.

  When she pulled into his drive, she didn’t see the Infiniti. Her heart sank. But she hadn’t come this far to give up now. Mia climbed out of the car and hurried up to the front door, where she rang the bell and stood bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  A stranger opened the door, looking mildly put out. “Can I help you, miss?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said stupidly. “I thought . . . I was looking for the prior tenant.”

  The man shook his head. “I’m just the cleaning guy. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  Heavyhearted, she trudged back to the car. Mia pulled back onto the state road and spent the drive pondering the problem. As she came into town, she smiled. There was one place she knew he’d go without fail.

  “Whispering Pines.”

  If he was leaving, he’d have to arrange a transfer. He would never leave Lexie and Beulah behind. After all, he’d taken them when he ceased being Addison Foster and became Thomas Strong. She just had to catch him before he switched names again.