Jason had been doing a lot of thinking since leaving the rest stop. He might actually entertain the idea of staying the night at her mother’s house, because he’d realized it was time to set off on his own. Worrying about Angela running off had become exhausting. He couldn’t do it any longer. But he also needed to know she would be okay. Leaving her with her mother sounded like the perfect solution.
“Talk to me, Chris. I’ll go nuts if you don’t.”
He’d forgotten she thought he was Chris Patterson. He didn’t bother correcting her. “I have nothing to say,” he told her.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted.
He sighed.
“I never should have attempted to run off with that trucker. But try and put yourself in my shoes for a minute. A dead guy at the morgue where I work turns out to be an escaped convict accused of killing his business partner and friend. That same man forces me to go with him, against my will. He steals my money and then expects me to sleep in the same bed as him.”
His jaw twitched. “I told you I would let you go when this is over. I haven’t touched you inappropriately or harmed you in any way. If anything, I’ve provided a means by which to help get you out of your rut.”
“My rut? Who said I was in a rut?”
“Nobody. Forget I said anything.”
“No. I want to hear it.” She crossed her arms as she often did when she was upset. “Why do you think I’m in a rut?”
“Maybe rut was the wrong word. But come on, the way I felt you staring at a dead man back in Vermont was my first clue that at the very least, you might be bored.”
“That’s not a fair assessment, especially since you weren’t even dead.”
He wasn’t in the business of judging or analyzing others, but the fact that she’d been causing him nothing but trouble egged him on. “The fact that you hadn’t bathed in who knows how long was another indication that something was wrong.”
“I had a rough night and I was late for work—oh, never mind.”
“And what kind of woman would date a guy like Rob?”
“Sure, okay, I’ll give you that one, but—”
“You also happen to work in a privately-owned morgue in the middle of nowhere.”
“Where do you get off judging me and my choices?”
“You’re the one that wanted to talk. I made a simple observation and you wanted details, so maybe it’s best if we go back to watching the highway.”
“How do you know the morgue is privately owned?”
“It was all on Chris Patterson’s chart.”
“You mean your chart.”
“Yeah, sure, my chart.”
“Oh, my God. You’re not Chris Patterson!”
He drew in a breath. “Chris Patterson is dead.”
“You killed him. You are a killer.”
He released an exasperated breath. “Listen carefully because I refuse to repeat what I’m about to tell you. A riot broke out at the prison. Six men died. Refrigeration trucks were brought in and the bodies were picked up. Because of good behavior,” he said with much emphasis, “I happened to be on cleanup duty outside the prison. I switched all the wristbands on the corpses, put Chris Patterson inside another’s guy’s body bag, then took off my clothes and climbed into his empty bag. The rest is history.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one who had my ass squeezed by a toothless man as he helped me into his freightliner.”
For a few moments, she was quiet. “I do appreciate you coming back for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“If you’re not Chris Patterson, who are you?”
“Jason Caldwell.”
It didn’t take long for the silence to stretch out between them once more. When Angela went back to staring out the window, he said, “I’ll take you to your mom’s.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile.
They stopped for directions no less than three times. It was dark by the time they finally pulled up in front of a house in the middle of a five-acre lot in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was a big, two-story home with a long, gravely driveway and a wrap-around porch. They grabbed their stuff and climbed out of the car.
“She won’t mind that we just show up without warning?” he asked.
“No. She won’t mind.”
Thunder clapped in the distance and before they got to the front door, the clouds cracked opened and the rain began to come down hard. They ran quickly up the stairs to the covered porch, and stood there, gazing out at the downpour.
The wind had picked up and from where Jason stood the trees seemed to be dancing, their gangly branches swaying back and forth. It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d seen in a very long time.
When Angela looked his way, he smiled at her.
Despite the warmth of the air, hail came next. Angela reached out a hand and laughed as they both watched the icy pebbles gather in her palm.
The front door to the house opened just then and a barefoot blonde wearing a sleeveless, pale blue dress stepped out onto the porch. Her face tightened when her gaze fell on Angela. The woman’s wavy blonde hair swept well past her shoulders. She was the same height as Angela and they had identical noses and mouths. Definitely related. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” she asked.