Stillhouse Lake (Stillhouse Lake Series Book 1) by Caine Rachel

Author:Caine, Rachel [Caine, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781477848661
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2017-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

7

It’s damn late, but I call Javier and ask him to bring the van as quick as he can; I tell him the Jeep’s ready for pickup, and I’ll pay him extra for the trouble. He doesn’t ask questions but promises to be with us in half an hour. It’s cutting things close.

I go to my room, unhook my laptop, and stow it in my go-bag for dismemberment and disposal later. It isn’t lost on me that in this I have some common ground with my ex-husband.

It’s different this time, isn’t it? Mel’s haunting voice whispers to me as I stuff extras into the bag, things I want to keep. You’re not just running from stalkers, or even from me. You’re running from the police now. How far do you think you’ll get once they’re really hunting for you? Once everyone is hunting for you?

I pause in the act of grabbing the photo album I never leave behind. There are no pictures of Mel in it, just me and the kids and friends. Mel might as well have never existed . . . Except that he is right. Mind-Mel, anyway. If I run, and they decide I’m worth chasing, it becomes a whole different paradigm. I doubt Absalom will help me evade the law. He’d be the first one to rat me out.

There’s a knock at the door. I shove the photo album in, zip the bag, and leave it on the bed. Everything else I own is cheaply acquired, easily replaced, and disposable.

When I answer the door, Javier is standing there.

“Thanks,” I tell him. “I’ll get your keys—”

He interrupts me to say regretfully, “Yeah, about that. We never got around to talking about it, but just so you know, I’m a reserve deputy. Heard on the radio that they were looking to question you right about the time you called about the van. You’re not going anywhere, Gwen. I had to make the call.”

Standing right behind him is Detective Prester. He’s wearing a dark suit today, and a blue tie so ineptly knotted I wonder if he just made a square knot and called it good. He seems tired and pissed off, and in his hand is a crisp triple-folded piece of paper with an official seal showing on the front. He says, “I’m disappointed, Ms. Proctor. I thought we had some kind of civil conversation between us. But you were about to go and run away on me, and I have to tell you, that doesn’t look good. Not at all.”

I feel the trap closing over me. It’s not a bear trap, but silk strands weaving together into an unbreakable net. I can scream, I can rage, but I can no longer run from this.

Whatever this is.

I give Javier a smile I don’t feel and say, “It’s all right.” He doesn’t smile back. He’s studying me with wary intensity. They are all, I think, well aware that I hold a concealed carry permit. They know I’m dangerous. I wonder if they have snipers out in the darkness.

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