Backrush

by Jana DeLeon

  She pulled the document in front of her and signed. This was her way out. When Warren was at her apartment, he’d used her laptop to access his email and conduct some of his illegal business, dragging her into his misdeeds. The FBI had cleared her of any wrongdoing fairly early on but had insisted she stick around for a bit longer as they cleared up other things. So she’d waited months for this set of paperwork to freedom. But the investigation and the wait weren’t even the worst of things. The worst was when the DA told her that because Warren’s company had provided her with an infusion of capital to upgrade her restaurant, it was being seized along with everything else he owned.

  Eventually, she might be able to regain control, but what was the point? Closed restaurants didn’t make money and without money, she couldn’t afford to maintain the lease, the employees, the utilities, or any of the other expenses. And besides, reporters had already descended on her, all vying for the personal angle. Even if she’d wanted to keep the restaurant, it would be forever tainted by what Warren had done. She would be forever tainted by what Warren had done. If the DA had wanted to push it, he could have made her life even more difficult. Instead, he’d asked for her testimony on the few things they could use her for, and in exchange, she was free.

  Free to find real.

  Impact Zone

  * * *

  “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.” – Isak Dinesen

  Chapter Three

  Alayna placed the last of the boxes in the trunk of her newly acquired late-model Honda Accord and closed it. She gave her apartment building one final look before pulling the car keys from her pocket. She remembered the day she’d moved in—so excited about the 700 square feet of space that was practically a mansion compared to the tiny studio she’d left. That day, she couldn’t wait to get moved in. Now she couldn’t wait to leave.

  It had taken five months to get cleared by the FBI but only a day after signing the paperwork to prepare to leave New York. She’d had plenty of time to get her things in order, so all that had remained after she left from signing the documents that granted her freedom was packing up a couple boxes of clothes and personal items and handing in her official notice to her apartment super. Everything else had been sold, given away, or wrapped up and boxed months before. The boxes had been stacked against the wall of her bedroom, mocking her every time she entered, reminding her that she couldn’t leave this horror behind her.

  But all of that was over today.

  As she was about to climb into her car, a horn honking down the street caused her to pause, and she watched as a shiny new Mercedes pulled in behind her and stopped. Brad Winston, one of Warren’s oldest friends, climbed out and hurried toward her.

  “I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you before you left,” he said.

  “You barely made it. Just put my last box in the trunk and I’m about to pull away.”

  She felt odd talking to Brad, given everything that had happened. Brad had also been completely unaware of Warren’s misdeeds and had been reeling ever since the case was laid out in the media. He’d been fortunate that he’d never done business with Warren. Of course, that hadn’t stopped the FBI from crawling up his butt with a magnifying glass, and Alayna knew just how painful that could be. They’d never found a smoking gun, so they had no choice but to back away, but by the time they were done poking into every aspect of Brad’s life, the damage had already been done.

  Brad had retreated to his second home in California as soon as he was free to leave, and Alayna wondered if he’d ever consider New York his primary residence again. Which was why she was surprised to see him now. And because Brad knew that she’d agreed to testify against Warren, she wondered how he really felt about that.

  When the news had first come out, Brad was appalled and sympathetic when he realized Alayna had been drawn into the mess. Then the FBI had fixated on him, and he’d withdrawn from everything, trying to deal with the investigation. When they’d talked after he’d been cleared, he’d acknowledged his anger over both of them being drawn into Warren’s mess and said he was sorry that it had cost Alayna her restaurant. But more than anything, Brad had been pissed off that the man he thought was his best friend was a stranger. Alayna understood exactly how he felt.

  He glanced at her car and frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to fly to Florida? It’s such a long drive.”

  “I’m sure. I can’t take my chef’s knives with me on the plane, and no way am I shipping them or putting them in checked baggage.”

  Brad nodded, but Alayna could tell he didn’t really understand why she was willing to spend the better part of twenty hours in a car versus three in an airplane. But she didn’t expect him to. Her chef’s knives had been a gift from her aunt Bea. They were expensive and represented the financial sacrifice of a woman who’d always believed in Alayna. The sentimental value was even higher than their market value, and no way would Alayna risk them getting damaged or lost by an airline or shipping company. It had taken her four months to convince the FBI to return the knives to her after they’d been seized along with her restaurant. They’d finally acquiesced, as if doing her a favor, even though she’d provided clear proof that she’d owned the knives before she ever met Warren.

  She was going to need a car in Florida anyway. So she’d bought a used car in a reliable model and would spend two to three days making the trek there. As far as Alayna was concerned, making the long drive from New York was a small price to pay for peace of mind. She’d already lost too much. She didn’t know if she could take losing anything else.

  “Well, you know my number,” Brad said. “If you ever need anything or if you run into trouble along the way, call.”

  “I appreciate it,” Alayna said, although they both knew she’d never call.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I want you to take this.”

  She saw the edge of a hundred-dollar bill peeking out and shook her head. “I can’t. You don’t need to do anything for me, Brad. None of this was your fault. You have no responsibility.”

  “I don’t feel responsible,” he said. “I feel sad and angry and embarrassed…a lot for me but mostly for you, because Warren’s fucked-up choices took away everything you worked for. I didn’t lose anything except a friend I never really knew and a social standing I never cared about. I want to do something to help you, but this is the only thing I have that you can use. Please. It’s a long drive to Florida. You’ll have expenses along the way and when you get there. I…I just have to do something. I need to.”

  Alayna’s chest tightened at the miserable tone to Brad’s voice that was matched only by his equally miserable expression. She didn’t want to take money from him, but she understood the compulsion to do something. Even if it wasn’t warranted. She took the envelope and hugged him.

  “Thank you,” she said. “We’re going to be okay. Life will go on and one day, this will be a distant, unpleasant memory.”

  Brad nodded. “Good luck, Alayna. I hope you find a new, incredible life.”

  “You too. Goodbye, Brad.”

  She felt the tears well up and knew she had to get away before they spilled over. She’d managed to hold it together while packing, trying to focus on the drive and not all the dreams that were crushed and the ones that would never be. She jumped into her car and lifted her hand to wave as she pulled away. Brad stood there watching her, growing smaller in her rearview mirror until the bustle of the city obscured him completely from her view.

  It was 9:00 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. She’d waited for work traffic to subside before leaving, but getting out of the city would still take more time than she’d like. Once she made it to the interstate, it would just be one long continuous drive, one interstate merging into another, until she arrived in Florida. Given that it was still early May and tourist season hadn’t started, traffic near Tempest Island shouldn’t have grinded to a halt yet, but the weather coming off the Gulf was unpredic
table and could add delays to travel time. But the old car had a new radio with Bluetooth capability, and she’d loaded up her phone with audiobooks the night before, so she was all set.

  Unfortunately, it took far longer than she’d hoped to get out of the city. Road construction had added to the traffic issues and by the time she finally got to clear interstate, it was time for a pit stop. She went ahead and topped off the fuel before grabbing her backpack and heading inside for a restroom break. Figuring she’d make up some lost time by driving through lunch, she grabbed a protein shake and banana for the time being as she hadn’t been able to manage breakfast, and added a couple of protein bars, some chips, and some peanuts for later. It wasn’t the best of meals, but a couple days of eating like crap weren’t likely to kill her. Besides, with all the stress, she’d lost weight and was a little thinner than she thought was healthy.

  She fired up a book, a fantasy about a kick-ass heroine and her dragon partner, and set off again. As the miles ticked away, her mind drifted from the book to everything that had happened the past year, from her whirlwind relationship with Warren to the utter and complete implosion of her entire life. It was still surreal. Some mornings, she woke up and for a split second, thought the entire thing was a horrible nightmare. Then reality flooded in and the depression she’d barely managed to keep at bay pressed against her, trying to cozy up to her like a warm blanket. But she knew the deception of depression. She’d faced it before and wouldn’t allow herself to be enveloped by the promise of no pain, no sorrow. The heartache was bad, but numbness didn’t allow for progress. It only kept one still.

  By late evening, her entire body was starting to protest. She was used to standing and lots of movement, not sitting in one position for hours on end. The sun was starting to set, and it would be dark soon. Before the sunlight was gone, she wanted to be safely tucked away in a hotel room for the night. She looked at the signs and saw that Roanoke was five miles away. She’d made a list of hotels along the route, from ambitious daily mileage gains to conservative. Roanoke was on the conservative list, but it couldn’t be helped. Perhaps she’d be able to make better time tomorrow. And if not, the trip that might have taken two days would take three.

  She took the exit for the hotel and spotted a burger place along the service road. Her mouth began to water, and she took that as a sign that the convenience store snacks were long gone and she should grab dinner on the way to the hotel. She pulled into the parking lot and went inside the small but neat building and ordered a cheeseburger and fries to go. A young girl with a big smile took her order and then skipped over to the kitchen to turn it in.

  No computer system. Everything still on pads. Your typical mom-and-pop shop.

  It made Alayna happy because she loved to see restaurants owned by individuals rather than large corporate chains. The food was usually better and in smaller places like this, the service often was as well. She sat at a table and checked her email and the weather report while she waited. Her email was clear. The weather, unfortunately, was not. It looked as though a thunderstorm was due to roll through early the next morning. She hoped it wouldn’t delay her leaving, but she also didn’t want to drive in anything severe.

  The girl at the counter called out a cheerful “ma’am” and held up the brown paper sack with her dinner. She collected the bag, left a generous tip in the glass jar on the counter, and headed back out to her car. The hotel was just a half mile down the service road, and it had a single room available on the third floor. She’d ensured that the hotels she’d chosen had one main entry point with occupied reception and required key cards to enter the building at any other point.

  Even though the FBI assured her that she wasn’t in danger, she hadn’t been able to shake the bad feeling that crept over her every time she’d left her apartment. That feeling that she was being watched. And maybe she was. For all she knew, the FBI was still watching her. Although they’d declared they were convinced that she had no knowledge of Warren’s crimes, that didn’t mean it was true. She knew they sometimes turned people loose in order to watch them. And what if Warren was angry with her for agreeing to testify? With all the other witnesses, it would be business, but with her it was personal. He might be behind bars, but he had connections and probably had money stashed to pay people to do the things he couldn’t.

  So every day she remained in New York, she was careful.

  She’d hoped that when she left the city, the feeling would eventually dissipate, but so far, that same twinge was there. Shaking her head, she unlocked her room and carried her backpack, her dinner, and a small suitcase inside, then pulled the dead bolt. After the long day in the car, she wanted a shower, but the smell of the burger had her stomach overriding her sore body. The shower would wait.

  She turned on the television for the noise, grabbed a bottled water from her backpack, and settled in at the writing desk in the corner to eat. The burger was excellent. Or she was starving. Probably a combination of both. But the ground meat was high quality and the seasoning and the sear on the patty were great. Just enough flavor to have a bit of a bite but not oversalted, the way many burgers were. And despite the time lapse between cooking and eating, the fries were still crisp and were home cut, not frozen.

  Score another one for the mom-and-pop shop.

  She made quick work of the burger and fries, spent a couple seconds wishing she’d added a malt to the order, then grabbed shorts and a tank from her suitcase and headed into the bathroom. She made the water skin-reddening hot, then stood under the strong spray for several minutes just to let her sore muscles unwind. She’d pinned her long blond ponytail up since she’d just washed her hair this morning, and she could feel the fine wispy pieces that had escaped clinging to the back of her neck.

  When she looked and felt like a boiled lobster, she climbed out and pulled on her sleeping gear before sitting on the edge of the bed with her backpack. She unzipped it to pull out her iPad, which was tucked next to her chef’s knives, and saw the envelope that Brad had given her stuck in between. She’d simply shoved it in the pack before she’d pulled away and had forgotten all about it. Now she pulled it out and counted the bills, then flopped back and blew out a breath.

  Five thousand dollars.

  Good Lord. She should have looked sooner. She was already nervous about the trip, and that amount of cash had sent her into overdrive. Maybe she’d be able to find a branch of her bank along the way. She shoved the money back in the envelope and stuffed it into a zipper pocket on the inside of the pack. Then she grabbed her iPad to check for the nearest bank branch, shaking her head as she typed in the name.

  God bless Brad. Five thousand dollars was a lot of money. She realized it didn’t represent the same financial boon to him as it did to her, but it was still a huge gift to someone that he didn’t even know that well and was under no obligation to help. Since Brad and Warren ran in the same social circles, they’d spent a decent amount of time together, but usually at events. Alayna was always fascinated with the revolving door of women that Brad maintained. An heiress, a socialite, an actress, a model, and once, a fighter pilot, which tickled Alayna to no end after the run of silly women she’d had to endure.

  Alayna had liked Brad from the start. Despite his dubious taste in women, and his absolute refusal to find a suitable rich girl from a good family and settle down—his mom’s request—he had always been nice to Alayna and had treated her as if she were part of their circle.

  But still…five thousand dollars.

  It was a lot of money to give, even from someone who probably wouldn’t notice it was gone. She located a branch for her bank in Roanoke that opened at eight. She’d planned on getting on the road before then, but if the storm delayed her, then she’d deposit the cash before leaving town. If the storm moved through early, then she’d find another branch along the way and keep the backpack attached to her with both straps. Between her knives and the money, it was the most valuable item she carried with her.
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br />   She yawned and stretched, feeling the stress of the day and the drive washing over her. It was still early, but there was nothing stopping her from climbing into bed and watching some television or playing a game on her iPad for a while. It wasn’t as if she had anything to do. No work responsibilities. No apartment to clean. No dishes. No laundry until she got to Florida.

  She went to the door and checked the dead bolt. Then she dragged the chair from the desk over and propped the back of it underneath the door handle just as she’d done every night in her apartment. She checked the window to ensure it was locked and made sure the shades covered every square inch. The bathroom light was still on from her shower and it would remain that way. But that was just practical, she told herself. She didn’t want to trip if she had to pee in the middle of the night. After all, this was a strange place and she couldn’t move through it on autopilot. The fact that it was five clear steps from the bed to the bathroom was irrelevant. She grabbed the television remote and climbed into bed.

  You have to stop this.

  It was the same thing she’d told herself a million times.

  But she still didn’t know how.

  The storm moved through quickly the next morning and Alayna took advantage of it and struck out as soon as the sun was up. The banking part of her agenda would have to wait. Right now, she wanted to get as many miles between her and New York as she could because every mile farther from Brooklyn was one mile closer to Tempest Island. And Aunt Bea.