“We broke for lunch. We’re about to go back in. What’s up?” he repeats.
“I just needed to talk to you about something. It’s important. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered you there.”
“What is it?”
Hearing the impatience in his voice and the hubbub of background voices, she knows she made a mistake. Why did she think it was a good idea to have this conversation over the phone? Especially when he’s in the middle of an important sales meeting?
“Never mind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—-”
“Are you okay? The kids?”
“The kids are fine,” she says quickly.
“You’re not fine, though.”
“How do you know that?”
“I didn’t, but you just confirmed it. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’ll talk to you when you get home tonight.”
“It’s not nothing, Ro. I can tell by your voice. And I won’t be home until really late. Tell me.”
His tone is so gentle, despite the fact that he’s in the midst of an important meeting. She opens her mouth to tell him to forget it, but a choked little sob is all that comes out.
“Hang on.”
She hears him tell whomever he’s with that he has to step outside, and the background noise fades away.
“Okay,” Jake says quietly, “you’re scaring me. Are you sick? What’s going on?”
Her attempt to stammer a reassurance and a good--bye is met with a stern “Tell me. Now.”
“You’re in the middle of a meeting.”
“Right, and if you don’t tell me now, I’m going to think the worst and I won’t be able to focus on my presentations.”
“It isn’t . . . the worst,” she tells him—-and reminds herself—-as she clutches the phone hard against her ear. “It’s just something that happened a long time ago and it popped up again. Something bad. I should have told you back then, but you need to know now, because . . .”
“What is it?”
This is it. Confession time—-if she has the nerve.
The moment Casey heard that Detective Sullivan Leary is here in town, he had to hang up the phone. He could scarcely speak, overwhelmed by joy and temptation.
First things first—-he did send the screenshot she’d demanded. A deal is a deal, and how could he resist?
Then, of course, he left the area immediately, heading away from the business district, out to the strip malls on the highway. He pulled into a crowded Home Depot parking lot, where his van was one of many.
They won’t be looking for it, of course, or for him. They have no idea what he’s driving, or who he is.
He just needs a moment to blend into the scenery and collect his thoughts. It might be time to revise the plan yet again, but he doesn’t want to make a rash decision. Things have been moving too quickly as it is.
He leans his head back against the seat rest, catches sight of himself in the rearview mirror, and grins.
Hey there, stranger.
The beard is gone. He’d forgotten all about that. He’d lathered up and shaved it off this morning before he left his apartment, using the freshly sharpened antique blade.
It was time. He’d started growing it over a year ago—-not deliberately, of course. He’d never been a fan of facial hair. But after someone you love slits her wrists with a razor blade, you don’t handle one lightly.
No, not at all. Not on yourself.
He’d stopped wearing his contact lenses, too. When you’ve been through a loss like that, you find yourself crying at any random moment, and tears make contacts cloudy.
But today, Casey was finally ready to put all that behind him. He shaved off the beard, and he swapped the glasses for contacts.
Now he looks like his old self, the man he was one year, one week, and three days ago.
Hearing sirens, he looks up and sees a police car racing along the highway toward town.
Are they looking for him?
Or are they looking for Brianna?
He drove her up into the mountains and left her far off the trail. When the snow comes, it’ll cover her. Chances are, they’re not going to find her for a long, long time.