“Clearly!” She tried to wipe her face, but the tears kept coming as they rounded a curve. She ducked her head and let herself cry until she couldn’t anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out as she wiped her face on her shirt. She sat up a little and blinked hard. “Where are we?” Even past her tears she could see that the road was narrowing and the houses were farther apart and higher up.
“Near Black Hawk. Plenty of hotel rooms, and he won’t find us there. We can get a room. Have dinner and drinks.”
“Dinner?” She couldn’t imagine eating right now, but that didn’t mean Micah wanted to starve with her.
She wiped her face on her shirt again, but she really needed something more substantial. Her nose was clogged up and she didn’t want to imagine what had already leaked out.
She popped open the glove compartment. “Do you have Kleenex?”
“Hey,” he said as she moved aside the black gloves. Beneath the gloves lay a black canvas case that felt heavy when she shifted it. Micah’s hand darted past hers to slide it from the glove compartment and out of her way.
“Napkins.” She sighed with relief and pulled out the small stack, thinking she’d need all of them.
“Hey,” he repeated as he grabbed a phone that had been hidden at the bottom of the compartment.
A phone. She frowned and glanced at the phone on Micah’s dashboard, then back to the one in his hand. “What’s that?” The question sounded like an echo in her hollowed-out mind.
“Oh.” His eyebrows jumped and he cleared his throat. “That.”
“Yes.” She snatched it from his fingers and touched a button. The screen lit up with a lock screen she recognized. “Micah? What is this?”
“Yeah. Well . . . Johnny asked me to hold it for him.”
“This phone? He asked you to keep it?”
“Yes.”
They rose higher, climbing the road toward the little gambling town perched in the mountains. The sky was turning a darker blue, edging toward sunset. “He told me he destroyed it.”
“I had no idea it had anything to do with a kidnapping, or I wouldn’t have taken it. He’s going to get me into trouble.”
“He is.” Trouble. Trouble that was starting to turn to a strange static in her mind. She cleared her throat. “You should just take me back. Drop me at a police station.”
He shook his head and kept driving.
Veronica sat up straighter and inhaled, filling her lungs with oxygen, fighting off the static of fear and the fog of stress that had been pushing her down. It cleared a little, revealing a sharper emotion. The shivering edge of panic. “This is too far. Let’s go back. I think I need to get Sydney.”
“I need to keep you safe.”
“We can go to any hotel, Micah. He won’t be able to find me as long as I don’t use one of our credit cards. Let’s go back to Denver.”
“Sure,” Micah said, and some of that sharp fear receded. “Let me get to a turnaround.”
She waited for the next turn, but they’d already driven past all the neighborhoods and were surrounded by nothing but trees. Acid burned in her throat, and her stomach tightened. Too many twists in the road. Bile rose up. So did the hairs on her neck.
Why had Johnny given Micah the phone instead of getting rid of it? Even if he hadn’t wanted to destroy it, surely he would have given it to an accomplice. Not Micah.
Not Micah.
Her mind flashed to an image of Johnny hunched over the computer keyboard, hunting and pecking out that suicide note. How long had it taken him? He’d taken time with it, obviously, laboring to be sure there were no typos or misspellings.
Micah was waiting when Syd and I got home.
Chills chased down her arms like sparks. She tried to repress a shiver, but she couldn’t quite tamp it down.
“Cold?” Micah asked softly. He reached to turn on her seat warmer, then rested a hand on her knee.
She stared down at his tanned fingers, so familiar and beautiful to her.
Johnny had never said it was Trey. Or Neesa. He’d never confirmed or denied it. He’d refused to say a word.
Micah’s fingers squeezed her knee, then patted her reassuringly before returning to the steering wheel.
Why were they even driving into the mountains? They didn’t need to get out of town to evade Johnny. There was no way for him to track her down even if she was only a mile from home.
Veronica’s mouth dried until her tongue felt stuck to her palate. Another chill flashed through her. Her lungs worked too quickly, pushing out air before she’d snatched the oxygen from it. This couldn’t be happening. She was jumping to ridiculous conclusions.
Not Micah. No.
“Micah?” she croaked. “Why is his phone on? Why would . . . why would he give it to you?” She turned to look at him, and he frowned as if he were concerned and confused by the question. But as she watched, his face lost its tension and fell back into smooth lines.
He shrugged one shoulder and made a little clicking sound with his mouth. “Don’t freak out. We’ll be there soon.”
Every hair on her body stood up. Don’t freak out was secret code for You’d better freak out. She reached for the door handle, but Micah sped up and eased a little closer to the rocky shoulder of the mountain road.
“Calm down,” he murmured, as soothing as if he were speaking to a frightened child. “If you jump out here you’ll lose half your skin and probably most of your skull.”
Her eyelids fluttered with shock at his words as she tried to shut out the horror. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Taking you somewhere to talk.”
She shook her head no. No no no. More lies. Too many of them. “About what?” she managed to ask.
Micah had been waiting for Johnny. He’d been at the house before Johnny got home, and he knew they kept a spare key under a big rock near the garage. He knew because he’d once come to feed Old Man when they were on a weekend trip. So he could have been in the house. He could have had access to the computer, and he could have written that note quickly and with no typos. He never misspelled anything in his texts. That was one of the many things about him that had turned her on. One of the things she’d loved.
And now . . .
She glanced toward the rough canvas square on his lap. He’d opened a flap, and she saw the butt of a handgun beneath it. Everything inside her lurched. Her lungs seized up. “Micah,” she croaked, his name a terrible, twisted whine in her parched throat.
“I just want to talk,” he said.
She shook her head again, denying everything. He didn’t need to drive her into the mountains to talk. He didn’t need a gun to talk. And she’d already done everything wrong that she could have done. She’d left her phone at the house. She’d told no one where she was going. She’d let him move her to another location.
“Micah.” Saying his name again set off a quiet explosion inside her chest. She’d let this man into her body. She’d loved him and craved him and lied so she could have more of him. And he was a kidnapper. And probably worse than that.
“There’s more money,” he said, so friendly and calm. “Another fifty thousand for Johnny once the storm has passed. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut.”
She started to shake her head one more time but then realized her mistake and nodded. He wasn’t her lover anymore. He wasn’t someone to argue with. Of course she’d keep her mouth shut. Of course. She nodded over and over, but she couldn’t even feel it. Her entire head felt numb even as her chest burned.
“We can come to a separate agreement, you and I. You know I’d never hurt you, V.”
But he’d written that note. It was so clear now. He had the gun. He’d written the note. He’d somehow talked Johnny into getting rid of Sydney for the night. He’d invited himself to stay for dinner so that he could get Johnny drunk and stage a murder-suicide. Maybe he’d meant to slip her something too so he could arrange them at will for the final shots.
She heard a soft noise come from her own mouth. The mouth this man had kissed. The mouth that had made love to him. A sound of grief and horror.
“The phone,” he said softly, almost to himself. “The phone has been to the Holcomb property. It’s been to the cabin. I gave it to Johnny the day before the rescue so I could send him the pickup location via text. He happily accepted it and has kept it in your home ever since except when he took it to his work. It places him at every important spot since the day before little Tanner was kidnapped. You know what that means?”
She should. She knew she should, but her brain was a Tilt-A-Whirl, spinning and sliding. Veronica shook her head. She felt a tear slide off her cheek and hit her hand.
“What?” she pushed out.
“His possession of the phone implicates Johnny and maybe you. After all, he says he was home that day, but how could he have been? His phone was in the mountains.”
“But he was home that day.”
“Really? Who says he was?”
Oh. Oh God. She was the only witness. Well, Sydney, yes, but people would discount her story. She was ten. The police hadn’t even bothered interviewing her.
Veronica was his only alibi. And Micah had just passed the exit for Black Hawk and kept driving.
It had been him on the phone the whole time. Not Neesa. Not Trey. She’d told him she’d found the phone, so he’d sent messages that would reinforce her fears and keep her quiet.
Micah slowed to take the next turn onto a narrow road, and before she could think about it, before she could let herself change her mind, Veronica yanked on the door handle and threw herself free.
Or she tried to.
The door swung open and she was reaching for the seat belt when her head jerked back and exploded with a thousand shards of pain. When he slammed on the brakes her body pitched forward, but her head stayed tight in his cruel grip. The door clapped shut from the force of the movement before he eased the car to the shoulder. Micah’s fist twisted in her hair and she heard several strands pop free of her scalp even though she didn’t feel it.
She reached desperately for his wrist, digging her nails into his skin in a parody of passion. “Please,” she begged. “Please, Micah. I love you. Don’t. Please.”
“I said I didn’t want to hurt you. What the hell are you doing? I just want to talk.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I panicked. Please.”
“Lock the door.”
She slapped her hand against the door and hit the lock. “Okay. I’m sorry. I want to talk too. I’m just confused, Micah. I’m just . . . I thought you were my friend. I thought . . .” The words broke off on a sob she couldn’t contain as his grip loosened and the agony in her scalp eased.
“We are friends, V. Just like Johnny and I are friends. You didn’t seem to think that should stop me from fucking his wife.”
“I’m sorry. I know. You’re right.” She’d say anything. Anything he wanted. He was a stranger. A killer. He wasn’t Micah anymore. She didn’t know who he was.
“Jesus Christ,” he sighed, sounding for all the world like an exasperated parent being put out by an unruly toddler. “Just calm down, okay? Everything’s fine.”
“Yes.” She nodded, turning toward him, finally catching a glimpse of the open case and the gun in his hand. Her bladder threatened to let loose at the sight. She clenched her thighs tight and pressed her shaking hands to her knees.
“If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done it at the house. I just want to go somewhere to talk.”
“Yes.” No. Whatever he’d planned at the house had likely not involved them both awake and sober. This was plan B. “I’m calm,” she assured him as he stared at her. She tried a smile but it twisted into a grimace.
“Don’t try anything again.”
“I won’t.”
He took his foot off the brake and they were back on the road, weaving through towering pine trees and sheer rock walls that made her feel like they were the only people in the world. There was no help for her here. No one to save her. No one to take her back to Sydney.
“Fuck,” he suddenly huffed, chuckling a little. “You really are brave, V. I didn’t think you’d actually try to jump from a moving car. But I should have guessed. I’ve always loved how bold you are.”
The compliment cut like a blade, freeing memories like blood. The time she’d lured him into a bathroom at a pub, the time she’d texted Johnny from Micah’s bed even as Micah went down on her, and just last week when they’d had sex on her own bathroom sink.
She’d craved compliments like that. She’d wanted him to know how wild she was. Not just a wife and a mom and a career woman but a hungry force. Now he tossed his dirty, tattered compliment at her as if he thought she’d still be happy she pleased him. She burned with awful shame. Regret swelled the wound inside her. She deserved this. She’d been dumb and desperate and awful, wanting more when she’d already had everything.
She’d thrown her life away for this monster.
As he took another turn, this time onto a dirt road, Veronica realized the most horrible truth of all. He was showing her exactly where the cabin was. He hadn’t even asked her to close her eyes, much less ordered her to blindfold herself. Even the dumbest criminal wouldn’t give her this power over him, and Micah was so damn smart.
There was no question he meant to kill her. And whether Veronica deserved to pay for her sins or not, Sydney didn’t deserve to be left alone. She had to find a way out of this. She had to get back to her daughter.
“Micah?” she whispered.
“Hm?”
She cleared her throat to try to get her voice back from its hiding place. “Why? Why did you involve Johnny? Wouldn’t it have been less risky on your own?”
“He needed the money.”
“Oh, you were being selfless?”
He actually flashed a smile at her sarcasm. “Okay. He needed the money and I needed insurance. I didn’t plan on sacrificing Johnny. But if things got too heated . . .”
“He’s your fall guy.”
“Yes. But he needn’t be. All right? It’s in your best interest to stay quiet, V. On every single level. Keep your mouth shut, keep your head down, and in a few months Johnny gets the rest of his money, and I’ll give you a bonus too.”
“How much?” she asked, as if she really believed this ridiculous lie.
He had the nerve to wink at her. “Depends how convincing you are.”
“Are you saying I have to keep sleeping with you?”
“Have to?” Another smile, this one warm and welcoming as he glanced at her. The smile of a con artist. “I’m not a rapist. It’s always good between us.”
She looked away, bile surging in her gut at the affection in his voice. How could he do this? And how could he sound so sweet while he did? Who the hell was this man? She pressed a hand to her mouth at the thought of everything she’d willingly given him.
He sighed. “No, that’s not what I meant. Come on. I’d miss you if you cut this off, but I guess I understand. Things have changed now. But I really do care about you, whether you believe that or not.”
Did he believe that? Could he justify all this to himself, or was he some of kind of sociopath who needed no justification at all? He’d had a rough start in life. She knew that. His dad had left before he was born. He’d never once met him. His mom had remarried several times, and Micah spoke of his stepfathers with dark bitterness. His mom he didn’t speak of at all. Had his childhood warped him into a monster?
God, she’d never sensed that from him. He’d been driven, yes. Ambitious. And he’d loved the finer things in life. She’d seen that as a grasp at the security he’d never had in childhood. She’d admired that he wanted something better for himself. She’d wanted that too.
The road narrowed until the trees blocked out the last lingering light of the evening. They dipped into a rut and back out. They had to be close to the end. The end of the road. The end of her life. No
one would even find her body up here. The Holcomb estate was south of Golden and they were north. No one would search here. She’d just be one more woman who’d disappeared. Sydney would never know. She’d spend her whole life motherless and suffering.
No.
“Micah, we’ve had our talk. We can go home. I won’t say anything to anyone. I wasn’t ever going to say anything! Why would I? I’d lose everything.”
But she’d spoken too late. Micah took a slow left turn onto a trail so unused and narrow, she wouldn’t have spotted it if they’d driven by. Pine needles and branches scraped the windows and the top of the car. They were being eaten, swallowed, devoured, by a green-black night.
“Micah, please.”
“I just want to talk.” He said it so sadly, like a goodbye. He wasn’t even pretending she’d get out of this now. Unless the sorrow was a lie too. It had to be.
“Please don’t do this to Sydney,” she said as a sob rose up and tore from her throat. She gave up the pretense that she believed him and grasped his arm in a death grip. “Please. Sydney is just a little girl. I have to get back to her. She needs me. She needs her mom.”
The car suddenly popped free of the forest’s hold and they were in a narrow, shadowed clearing. She whipped her head around in a panic, hoping beyond hope that there were people already there or neighbors or something that would promise safety. But all she saw was a little wooden cabin listing slightly to the right, the windows shuttered and the roof covered in moss and pine needles. Her coffin.
Micah was ready for her attempt to escape this time, and his gun pressed into her temple when her fingers touched the door handle. “Don’t move.” Goose bumps spread over her arms and down her body, pulling her skin so tight it hurt.
She heard the click of his seat belt. He opened his door.
Veronica had the courage to wrap a hand around her own handle. She even tugged it toward her. But she didn’t push the door open. Her arms were cowards that refused the order. And then Micah was there, pulling the door open for her, the gun waiting patiently at eye level.
“Unbuckle,” he said gruffly. Her gaze locked on the tiny black hole that promised a bullet.
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