“Right. I—he—Tim…” The name was bitter on her tongue. “He mentioned that you were there. Watching him while he was watching me. You chased him away.”
Pink washed over JD’s cheeks and he looked at his feet. “I rang the doorbell. Not exactly the most heroic of actions.”
Riley shrugged then immediately winced. “That’s still sore. As for the bell ringing? Whatever works, right? It distracted him.”
“But he still got you.” There was genuine sadness in his eyes, and Riley softened.
“So how did you end up in the house across the street?”
JD grinned. “Changing the subject to get my mind off losing you? That’s my tactic.”
There was a little flutter in Riley’s stomach when he said the words “losing you,” but she chalked it up to the green Jell-O they’d been shoving down her throat rather than anything else.
“So?” she asked.
“I was—I was living in that house.”
“What? Why?”
“My foster family kicked me out. I turned eighteen a few weeks ago, remember? No more kid, no more checks.”
Riley struggled to sit up. “You don’t have foster parents. You said yourself, your parents have baby pictures of you all over the house.”
JD suddenly became interested in Riley’s wall of flowers. “Wow. A lot of people love you, huh?”
Riley grabbed his shirtsleeve. “JD.”
He turned and offered a shy smile. “Wishful thinking about the wall of pictures. I never really knew either of my parents. Lived with my gram until I was five; then it was foster care after she died.”
She nodded.
“I didn’t know you lived in that neighborhood when I got there, honestly.”
“But you had binoculars.”
JD swallowed hard. “I saw you when you were leaving for school one day. I realized it was you, not just some girl.”
Riley tried to remain calm. “So you got the binoculars to stare at me specifically?”
“No. I was skipping school, hanging out in the house, and I saw a car stopped in front of your place. It came after both of your parents left, and sometimes the guy would park there at night too. He was watching you.”
She nodded, that nauseous feeling in her stomach again. “Tim.”
“Yeah. I wish I would have called the police or something.”
Riley forced a smile. “Remember that for next time.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” He cracked a half smile, but it immediately fell away. “So, when are you going?”
Riley felt her brows rise. “Going?”
He studied the palm of his hand. “To be someone else. Somewhere else.”
She let out a long breath. “Um, I’m not.”
JD looked up, and this time he was smiling. “You’re not?”
“The one bright spot in trying to get me and my parents killed was that it brought out Alistair Foley, the guy who was after us.”
“Alistair Foley?” JD looked impressed. “I read about that online. That case was huge. That was the guy who was after you?”
Riley nodded. “Yeah, my dad used to work for him. My parents put my picture all over the place when I went missing. Apparently, he saw it and thought it would be a good idea to be part of the chase…or something.”
There was a slight lump in her throat. Her parents had risked their lives to get her back. They had given up their location and plastered Riley’s face in public—after spending fourteen years in hiding. Alistair came out because of her—he came after her parents because of her. She felt her eyes starting to water.
JD’s hand found hers. “Hey, you OK?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just—I don’t know, medication side effect or something.”
JD nodded, sitting next to Riley on the bed. “I’m really glad that you don’t have to disappear again. Well, I’m really, really glad that you get to stay Riley Spencer.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
This time JD looked directly at her, lacing his fingers through hers. “Because I think I really, really like her.”
EPILOGUE
Riley Spencer and her kidnapping were old news. People whispered about the Spencers being in the Witness Protection Program but no one really believed it, and Riley was completely OK with that.
“It’s almost dinnertime, turnip,” her father said, poking his head into her room.
Riley smiled. The nickname “turnip” had never sounded so good. “I just need to start this paper, Dad. Then Shelby, JD, and I are going to go to the mall. I might bring Bryn from across the street.”
Her father cocked an eyebrow. “Four of you at the mall at this hour?”
Riley rolled her eyes. “It’s barely six and we’re going to a movie.”
“I guess I can talk your mother into that.”
“There’s no imminent threat anymore, Dad. You can loosen the reins.”
“It’s still my job to keep my turnip safe.”
Riley groaned and tossed a stuffed animal into the doorway her father just vacated. She pushed aside the framed picture of her parents chasing her as baby Riley—one or two at the most—took off on her tricycle.