“Is he okay?”
“He’s alive, that’s all they could tell me. But where are you?”
“I . . . I’m with a friend. We had plans after my appointment, but I heard shots as we were driving away and then the sirens. I realized you might have been worried about me.”
“Well, I was worried when the police came up a minute ago, but like I told them, I didn’t hear the shots. I was in the front with my next patient, and I guess the sound machine drowned it out.” She pauses. “And you’re sure you’re okay?”
I glance over at Aaron. Part of me is tempted to send her a coded message like they do in the movies. I could say I’ll see her at our appointment on Monday (which has been her regular day off as long as I can remember, because she sees patients on Saturdays) or maybe remind her to feed the fish in her aquarium (that she got rid of two years ago).
But I don’t. “I’m fine. I’ll see you on Tuesday, okay?”
“Okay,” she answers, a tiny hint of doubt in her voice. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. And could you call me if you hear anything more about Mr. Porter?”
Deo is not as easy, but I knew he wouldn’t be. I end up asking him to just trust me, and I promise to call him again in half an hour. And even then, I have to tell him about Porter, and that I’m with a friend of Molly’s. I even have to give him Aaron’s name, which Aaron clearly doesn’t like, judging from his expression.
“Okay,” I tell Aaron, once I’ve hung up. “Just so you know, Deo will call Dr. Kelsey, the police, the FBI, the entire Avengers team, and anyone else he can think of if I don’t check back in half an hour.”
Aaron rolls his eyes. “You have a very possessive boyfriend.”
I start to correct him, but maybe having Aaron think Deo’s my overprotective boyfriend is a good thing. I could say he’s at the gym, lifting weights.
I feel a tiny wave of disapproval from Molly as I settle back into my seat, the first real reaction I’ve felt from her in several minutes.
You shouldn’t lie to Aaron. He’s trying to help.
Really? Because I think the jury’s still out on that one.
“Not my boyfriend,” I say. “More like my brother. But yeah, he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t hear from me—he’s halfway there already, given what I told him about Porter.”
We’re moving north on I-95 now, toward Baltimore. After a few minutes, Aaron eases into the lane for the Beltsville exit.
“So can you tell me where we’re headed now or is it still top secret?”
“I have the key to a place that belongs to some friends. I house-sit for them on occasion, take care of the cat and so forth. They’re in West Virginia for two weeks—a second honeymoon of sorts. No one outside of family would connect me to them, and only Sam and my sister know I’m back in town, so . . .”
He seems to feel this should reassure me. It doesn’t. Not one little bit.
What I’m thinking must show on my face, because after a few seconds he says, “Anna, the very last thing on my mind is hurting you. In any way. I’ve seen evidence of too many girls mistreated lately. You will be safe with me. You said Molly trusted me. Can you try to trust me, too?”
In my experience, trust isn’t something you try. It’s either there or not, and in my case, trusting Aaron seems to be an on-again, off-again thing, depending on whether I’m relying on gut instinct, which is mostly tied to Molly’s memories, or relying on my own logic, which says I should bail at the first stoplight and take off running.
For the moment however, my gut seems to be prevailing. So I just nod and shift my gaze out the window. We pass a few small shopping centers, one with a Starbucks that is screaming my name, but I don’t say anything. The sun is inching down toward the horizon, as sporadic prisms of orange light break through the branches of trees that are beginning to lose their leaves in earnest.
Aaron eventually turns right into a mostly residential area, then pulls into a lot surrounded by a square of two-story brick townhomes. He stops the car under a canopy near the middle of the parking lot and comes around to my side, I guess to open the door for me. I beat him to it, though. I was out of the car almost before we were fully stopped, once again contemplating making a run for it.
Molly must feel my panic, because she surges to the front, almost like she’s trying to take control. That only ramps up my fear, and she quickly pulls back.
Sorry. I . . . I just . . . Aaron’s okay, Anna. I’ve known him forever. You can trust him.