“So that’s the reason you wanted to see me? To say thanks. Eve, it’s late and we’re exhausted and…”
She leaned over and kissed him. Right in the middle of this empty parking lot, her lips found his, and she sank into him. He continued the kiss, tugging at Eve’s clothes. She pulled away first.
“We can’t do this.”
He stepped back, instantly apologetic. “I understand.”
“I meant, not here. There’s a motel. Five minutes away.”
Was she really doing this? Was she that foolish that she was going to start this up again? But there was no hesitation on his part. He got into his car and she followed him. He paid for the room and they both parked near the back of the motel.
He opened the door and she followed him in. He clicked the lock and then he turned to stare at her. Up close, she realized that she’d been wrong. He’d aged a great deal in the last few years. But then so had she. He rubbed his callused hand against her cheek. Eve’s eyes closed and she leaned into his touch. He kissed her again, a kiss that showed no restraint. A kiss that held all the sorrow and anguish they’d experienced in the last few days, in the last eight years. All she could think about was his hot breath against her neck, the feel of her breasts in his hands, her smooth, naked skin pressed against his. He’d walked away from her once. He’d done the right thing. Eve should have remembered that. But tonight, she didn’t care about right or wrong. All that mattered right now was the two of them, in this room, in this bed. To hell with the rest of it, she thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
RICK
She’d done it. Missy had actually come through. Not only had she hired one of the best defense attorneys in the country but she’d also gone on the national news and proclaimed her faith in him. Rick still couldn’t believe his great fortune. Missy wasn’t simply good. She was fantastic. Flanked by reporters, perfectly attired in her navy dress, her fresh-from-the-salon blowout, she appeared young, sweet, and oh so trusting. She’d come back to see him and he’d told her about the photo, told her about the safety deposit box he’d hidden it in. She wasn’t giving him a free pass.
“I think you need help, Rick. Psychiatric help. But we’ve been married fifteen years. I can’t just walk away.”
So his story about Lily hadn’t been entirely believable, but he was starting to have a good feeling about Missy, and his odds of getting out of this place. And then several days passed and Missy showed up, trembling, on edge, glancing around as if she were being followed.
“Missy, what’s wrong?”
“I think you’re right, Rick. I think those girls are unstable.”
Rick leaned back in his seat. This was a promising new development.
“What happened?”
“Abby Riser came to our home. She threatened. She threatened to… to kill me.”
This was so perfect. He couldn’t have planned it better himself.
“I told you. I told you they’re not well. But listen to me, none of this is your fault. You’re innocent in all of this. You have to protect yourself,” he’d told her.
“I don’t know what to do. Everyone’s going around like they’re the Second Coming of Christ. No one will believe you.”
“Were there witnesses when she threatened you?”
“My parents. And the news people were still there.”
“That’s good, Missy. All you have to do is tell the lawyer. Tell him you’re worried about your safety and you want a restraining order. That girl isn’t stable, and you know it. A lot of people might try to hurt you because of what I did. I can’t have that on my conscience.”
By the time the visit was over, he’d convinced Missy that she needed to stand up and fight. There was a part of him that wondered what else that bitch Abby had said. He could tell that Missy’s doubts about him were growing, but she never pressed him for more information. Rick realized that she wanted to believe him. She wanted all of this to be Lily’s fault so that Missy could resume her humdrum life, living in blissful ignorance. He really had chosen well.
Rick was disappointed that he didn’t get to see Abby’s arrest, that he didn’t get to see Lily’s face. Regardless, it’d been good news. He’d been upbeat for most of the day. He’d even managed to get a few moments alone with that guard he had his eye on. Her name was Angela, but he didn’t know much more. He’d tried asking her a couple of questions, hoping to get a read on her, but she was skittish.
“Better keep your mouth shut,” she’d said. “I might not be able to stop them if they go after you again.”
Rick had done as he was told, but her response pleased him. She was concerned for his well-being. That said something. He considered it another victory. He was eating dinner, or what passed for dinner in this shithole, when Fred ambled by. Rick braced himself, wondering if these beatings were going to be a nightly ritual. But Fred didn’t open the cell; he just leaned languidly against the bars.