“What happened?” she whispers.
“He told me my money was all gone. So I dragged him out of the bar and left him on the curb. I should’ve taken his keys. I was just so angry, Meggie. I never thought… ”
The last of the locusts lament with me from the tree tops. “He went through a red light. Plowed into a van. It was full of my friends. He died instantly. Killed two others. Put my girlfriend into a coma.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” she gasps.
I sigh, remembering the time all too well. “Yeah, me too. My mother almost lost our house. That jerk had cashed in his life insurance and never told her. I enlisted. It was the only way I could help out. I guess I kind of lost it for a while. That’s why I stopped texting.”
Glad to be at the top of the hill, I open the padlock on the front door. Behind that, I put my thumb on the security panel. The door opens, the generator starts, and the lights come on, dimly at first.
“Sit.” I point to an overstuffed chair beside a side table with spindly legs.
Pine needles are stuck in her hair and her arms are scratched and bloody. I feel like a real ass for bringing her up here but better this than dead from some foreign mercenaries. Also, I’m supposed to keep watch on her and not think about sex with her.
Yeah, maybe my voice is a bit cross. “The bathroom is the first door. You can have the bed in the back room. I’ll take the couch.”
She glances up at me, her tone is hurt. “Okay. Whatever.”
“It’s not what you think, Jenna Jones.” I say her new name on purpose, to put distance between us. “Sleeping with you is off limits. For now. It has to be. Don’t you get that? I need to focus all my attention on keeping you safe.”
“I get it.” But I don’t think she does. Shaking her head, she moves into the bathroom while I heat up a can of beef soup and make a couple of peanut butter sandwiches.
Air in the shower pipes squeak while she sings some sad old country song. Then she’s out with a towel in her hair and a t-shirt of mine down to her thighs. She’s rolled down the band of a pair of my sweatpants, swimming in them.
It’d be so easy to take two strides and rip my clothes off her.
“Eat up.” It comes out more like a growl.
“I swear I can’t follow your moods. Is it because we slept together and now you’re mad because I seduced you?”
My laugh is hollow. “You didn’t seduce me, honey. I wanted you.”
“Wanted? Past tense?”
“No. Want. Megan. Want. You still don’t get it, do you? We can’t. You need to let me do my job.”
“Then why are you so pissed?”
“Because my cock hurts like hell from being near you all day! Because my brain won’t function and you look so sexy in my clothes. Just eat. Okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” After we eat in silence, she asks, “Dare I ask if you have a computer? I need to try to turn off Jason.”
“No.” I don’t want her near that thing, not until I have my analysts check it.
“Fine. Is there a book? I’m going to bed.” She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes.
I grin. It can’t be helped. “There’s a couple mysteries under the nightstand.”
Thank God she turns on a heel, and struts that sexy ass down the hall. I swear she’s going to be the death of me.
After I clean up, I check she’s asleep, and pull out a laptop to report in.
Chapter 15
Megan plots
I crack open my bedroom door. At a small kitchen table, Colin’s blue face stares into a laptop, lit up by the screen. He’s got no idea that a whole lot of badness is about to rain down like cats and dogs.
Only I can stop it.
First, I need to physically shut down the power to Jason. To do that, I need to get into Manhattan, not hole up like a coward in the woods.
Thank you Verizon. There’re enough bars to connect. While he was fussing about my shoes, I’d managed to extract my phone from the glove compartment.
Suddenly my iPhone freezes and I can’t do anything with it, not even shut it down.
“Hello Megan.” Oh my God. It’s the voice I prayed never to hear again, coming from Skype.
My heart rate skyrockets and my fingers shake so hard that I can’t do anything but stare at the vile video of my teenage self. When the awful scene finishes, a white title bar scrolls across a black screen. ‘I’m coming for you.’ Then the screen goes blank.
I’m not sure how long I stare, frozen. Then my brain kicks into hyper-focus, I reboot my iPhone by reinserting the battery and Skype to Grace. After about six rings, her sleepy face pops up onto her screen.
“Hello?”
I whisper, “Hang up and go to chat.”
Grace: What’s wrong?
Me: Mahmoud. He’s not dead.
Grace: Where R you?
Me: Can’t say. My ID’s are in my safe. Get them. I’ll contact you as soon as I can. Love U. Thx. Bye.
Grace: K. Be careful. <3
Me: <3
In the front room, Colin types away, not knowing my world has just been jilted on its axis. His face is creased with lines and every so often he rubs his eyes while sipping from a huge mug.
For a moment, I consider spilling the beans. Tell him everything. Confess.
But for all his good points, Colin still works for the government. The same government that lied and held me captive in Los Alamos. Besides, if I tell him, he’ll try to help me and get himself killed. I can’t let that happen.
I feign to be asleep, listening to his every move. When he hits the shower, I steal his boots resting by the door. Even though I flop in them they’re still better than my broken heels. Then feeling a little guilty, I open my bedroom window and climb out into the blackness. All I have to do is go straight down.
How hard can that be?
Chapter 16
Colin is bested
“Megan?” I catch the draft coming from the window and my heart stops. From the temperature in the room, I gauge she’s probably got a twenty minute lead.
Never, in my wildest dreams, did I figure she’d bolt. Now what is she thinking? She could get herself killed. Is she that clueless?
Still dripping from my shower, I throw on my pants, grab my coat and…? Where are my boots? I’m sure I left them by the door. A quick search of the cabin leaves me believing she’s the devil incarnate.
Outside, my flashlight shoots to the path she’s taken. No point in being so careful now. All that matters is I get her back to the cabin alive. The twisted and broken branches make me take note, along with my boot prints.
I am such an idiot. While I was pouring out my heart, she was planning her escape, making a trail. She’s played me every step of the way. Probably since day one when she seduced me.
That lying bitch.
When a sharp corner of slate cuts my heel, I have to stop and tear off a piece of shirt for a bandage. When I do find her, I’m going to paddle her behind and bring her to justice. Let someone else deal with her. How did I let myself be so taken in?
When an engine starts, my hands instinctively go for my car keys which are still in my pants pocket. Nonetheless, I dash to the foot of the hill where tiny bits of wire litter the ground. Unbelievable. She hotwired my car.
“Megan. Stop!” I take aim at the tires but don’t fire because I can’t risk her crashing into a tree. Not because I give a shit at that moment, but because I’m supposed to keep her safe.
I hobble back to the cabin and download her app into my computer. “Hello Jason. Where’s Megan?”
“Are you referring to Doctor Jenna Jones? You should always use her legal name, Detective O’Brien.”
“Yes. Dammit. Where is Jenna Jones?” Gritting my teeth, I remind myself it’s just code, zeros and ones. Any attitude is totally imagined on my part.
“I am in stealth mode and cannot give you that information.”
“Turn on the 911 override.”
“Done.”
“Good. Where is she?”
“Her GPS is off. I don’t know.”
I take a couple deep breaths and unclench my jaw. I need to call my partner.
His voice is laced with sleep when he answers. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Jenna bolted from the cabin. Stole my car.”
I know I’m on speaker from the tunnel-like sounds. A light clicks and his dresser drawer slides open. “How did that happen?”
“Because I’m an idiot. I swear I only left her alone for five minutes. She hotwired my car.”
“Do you know where she’s headed?”
“No idea.”
“I’ll send someone to get you.”
“And could you let the captain know?” Yeah, I know it sounds lame, but if it comes from him, I can’t get fired. Not yet.
Chapter 17
Megan flees
My heart’s still thumping like mad as I race Colin’s Nova down the dirt road. Pine trees scratch at the vehicle’s sides and gravel spits from under the tires. Ahead, high beams light up a fork in the road and I turn right, wishing I had Google Maps.
From now until forever, when I glance into a rearview mirror, I’ll see his angry face above the barrel of a gun. For a moment I thought he was going to kill me. That’s how I know, even if someday I come out of hiding, he’ll never forgive me.
But better that than have him lose his life. Right Jones?
I guess. Then the gas gauge lights up with a bright E and I groan. I’m so stupid. It’s just that video. It brought back memories. None of them good.
Mahmoud is alive. I knew I’d seen him outside the hotel. I knew it.
Focus, Jones.
I purposefully use my new name. That woman is a survivor. She is strong and capable. She owns a multi-million dollar business. That calms the panic bubbling in my stomach. Now if only I could get my hands to stop shaking.
After miles of fields and forests, I’m about to give up on finding any signs of civilization. What will happen if I run out of gas? I’m definitely not the outdoorsy type.
Finally the road widens and I arrive in a small town. To my right, there’s a Victorian mansion with a wraparound porch. The hanging sign reads Somerville’s Treasures.
Unfortunately, Somerville must’ve rolled up its carpets and gone to bed hours ago but at least I know where I am. I stop, open the glove compartment, and hit pay dirt in the form of an old-fashioned map. Then I fold it open, search the colorful lines, and scan the small font next to hundreds of tiny dots with no luck.
Cursing that I hadn’t paid more attention while Colin drove, I close my eyes to visualize. I’d had to put the visor down as the blazing sun set ahead of us. That means I should search west of New Paltz.
Or east.
Finally I find it. All I have to do is turn right at the next intersection and I’ll get to a bigger dot. A motel with a red vacancy sign beckons but that’s the first place Colin will look. However, I’m still the only vehicle on a country road in the middle of the night.
I’m a sitting goose in more ways than one.
Mahmoud-the-pig is not dead and somehow got inside Jason. I can’t figure out how, at least not yet, but he’s more powerful than before. With my app, he can break into almost any network in the world. I’ll never be able to go home again.
The car coughs. The only time I’ve stayed overnight in the woods was during fat camp. They’d made us carry our own supplies, put worms on hooks, and carve out fish guts. Ugh. Even as an adult, I can’t stomach that.
Back then, I’d chosen not to eat and then didn’t sleep because of the heat. Black flies forced us to keep the tent flaps tight and the air inside stagnated. Then during the day, almost all of the campers jumped into the nearby stream but Colin and I sat on the bank. He made sure no one drowned, I watched for snakes, and skinny Terry showed off her bikini. In retrospect, I get it, but back then it only served to remind me how fat I was.
Alone in the dark vehicle, I wonder about my motives. Why did I run? Was I really trying to save him or sabotage our budding relationship? Thankfully, a bright Mobile sign in the distance breaks my depressing thoughts. However, in addition to the signs of life, a police cruiser idles in front of a Seven-Eleven.
I can’t catch a break! I pull a U-turn, duck into the first driveway, and end up behind a Baptist church. I hate to steal the new Elantra but what other options do I have?
I scribble a note promising a huge donation if they don’t report the theft. Then I head down old Route 17 with a tank full of gas and my face-reco-blockers on. The only thing missing is a half-pack of cigarettes.
What was that movie called? The Blues Brothers take Manhattan? Something like that.
One eye stays glued to the rearview but no blue lights appear so I guess the cop didn’t see me. I sigh and like always, start to think too much.
I try to remind myself that this isn’t like the last time I’d run from Mahmoud. This time I’m prepared. I’ve got an SSN of a recently deceased woman and written the town for her birth certificate by saying the first one had been destroyed in a fire. Armed with those two pieces of information, I got health insurance and a credit card. A small savings account followed. With all that, the DMV gave me a driver’s license.
I am Alicia Bernstein.
After about an hour, I stop at an all-night diner that serves soggy hamburgers and fries. The coffee that I’d hope would keep me awake does nothing but burn a hole in my stomach. Exhausted, I’m not sure what to do next as I can hardly keep my eyelids open. But Colin is smart. He’ll have law enforcement calling every hotel from here to the city. And every diner. Every everything.
This totally sucks.
The clock on the wall reads three AM. Apparently only truckers and hookers populate the diner at this hour. When a man ogles me, I leave a tip and go. Then there’s only me and miles of dotted white lines. After almost falling asleep at the wheel, I pull off the road to catch a few winks and dream vividly.
I’m tip toeing through the squishy mud in the parking lot, high heels in hand. Looming overhead is that weird temple in New Paltz, now looking a lot more like the Emerald City.
But where’s Colin? I need to explain. It’s simple logic. If Mahmoud focuses on me, he won’t harm anyone else.
At the foot of the building, a little dragon appears out of nowhere and wags its tail. It yaps urgently, nipping at my heels. Then it herds me up four long flights of stairs that circle around the side of the huge structure to the back yard. A few feet away, at the edge of a dark forest, a heavy-set girl sits on a rock, sobbing.
Poor thing. I walk over the wet grass to comfort her but the dragon jumps in front of me. It rears up on its hind legs, grows over two stories high, and breathes fire. The girl is instantly turned into a mass of blackened flesh.
Horrified, I stare, unable to shift my gaze and move until the charred blob rises. It flashes sharp teeth, opens glowing red eyes, and I know it wants to kill me. When a door appears out of nowhere, I open it and find teenage Colin calmly eating Chinese at my kitchen table.
He looks up with brows creased and a deep frown. “Why are you running from me?”
The sun is just rising when I wake, heart pounding. That dream didn’t reveal any insights and yet shook me up pretty bad. There’s no time to ponder because the roar of trucks remind me that I need to get back on the road.
The small red building is deserted when I walk across the parking area. I pee, splash water on my face, and like the first time I escaped from Mahmoud, paper towels serve as wash cloths. At least back then, Mr. Clean had fed me. This time breakfast is going to have to wait. I have no cash until I get my new credit cards back in the city.
Cold, tired, and hungry, I turn on the radio and sing along with Carrie Underwood. Suddenly my voice cracks and I sob, barely able to drive. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! I’d fallen for him. When we made love, he not only made me whole, he opened my heart. Now it’s broken, I’m on the run, and he’s going to hate me forev
er.
Chapter 18
Colin
A few hours after losing Megan, I curse up a storm and drive the rental back into the city. God knows what she’s up to but I doubt she has enough money to go far. She must know that the moment she uses her plastic, I’ll find her.
Georgio’s excited voice resonates in the car’s speakers. “I found out who Jones Skyped before she left your cabin. Her name is Grace Kelly. She runs a halfway house, Gracie’s Place for runaway girls in Brooklyn, mostly funded by Jones. I’ll keep you in the loop as I find out more. I’m texting her coordinates to you now.”
“Thanks.” Even though the traffic is sparse, I stay ten miles over the speed limit, I don’t need to be pulled over and have to give long explanations.
Around three in the morning, I arrive at Ms. Kelly’s and when I bang on her front door, she’s fully dressed and wide awake, no doubt expecting Megan.
The fiftyish woman with burgundy hair scowls, staring insolently. “She’s not here, young man. And y’all are going to have to kill somethin’ other than my front door to get her back.”
Not in the mood for humor, I open my wallet and flash my badge. “I’m Detective O’Brien with the NYPD. May I come in?”
“I know who you are and not unless you got a warrant.” She starts to slam the door in my face but I hold it open by whipping the side of my bare foot against the wood.
“This is terrorism, ma’am. I don’t need a warrant.”
“Fine. Go ahead. Harass an old lady in the middle of the night.” She pauses. “Where are your shoes? What kinda police officer are you?”
“The kind that’ll take you downtown for obstructing an investigation.” Tired, hungry, and pissed, I’m all out of patience.
“Well, y’all might as well come in, ‘cause it’s a long story.” She chuckles, not intimidated what-so-ever by the fact I tower over her by a foot and a half.
When I don’t budge she wrinkles her nose and curls her upper lip. “Son, you don’t scare me none. I deal with billionaires, hit men, and police alike. And when they go bad, they get mean, real mean, especially when it comes to their women. But I keep my girls safe, one hundred percent. Let me tell you somethin’…” She points an arthritic finger in my face. “My little girl’s safer alone than she ever was with you.”
Dangerous Code Page 10