Lest She Forget by Lisa Malice

Author:Lisa Malice [Malice, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CamCat Publishing

36

The car Nick stole to better facilitate our getaway stinks of beer and cigarettes. The front passenger seat is covered in thick purple faux fur. The windshield is pockmarked with chips, the vinyl dashboard cracked from sun damage, and the passenger side mirror missing. The carpet is worn through to the rubber over much of the floor mats, and what is left over is stained by a rainbow of colorful substances. I can’t help but wonder if the old junker is reliable enough to keep us moving away from danger.

“Seriously, Nick? Is this car safe?”

“Sorry. It was unlocked and a model I knew I could hot-wire quickly. It started up without any problem and got me here, so I think we’re good for now. We need to get moving quickly. Before we take off, I need to strip my car of anything that might identify me as the owner. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Once we’re back on the road, I stare out the window, but I don’t really see anything. My mind is too preoccupied with trying to find some sane reason for someone wanting me dead. My thoughts linger on William, raising questions I can’t answer. Why am I married to a man I seem to detest, fear, or both? What’s behind the intense distrust I feel for him?

As part of my Secret Service detail, Nick must have some answers. As I glance at him, wondering what he knows, I’m reminded of the one thing he was most eager for me to remember—the election. “Tell me the truth, Nick. I can handle it. Is my husband behind all this? Did he direct someone on his staff to kill me? Do I have evidence that he cheated to win the election, and he doesn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut?”

I have no idea why I trust Nick with my theory—after all, he could be working for my husband. Why else would he so intentionally keep bringing up the election? The worry on his face doesn’t reveal his role one way or the other.

“I don’t know, Ma’am, but I don’t think so. I only touched on the election hoping to stir your memory enough to—”

“But it’s the only explanation that makes sense to me,” I jump back in, determined to extract some answers. “I ran away in the midst of a dangerous blizzard because I couldn’t handle what I’d discovered—evidence proving William was responsible for the lies painting Hayward as a crooked politician.”

Even as the words leave my mouth, I still don’t believe them myself. That my husband may be a deceitful, duplicitous bastard explains my instinctive distrust of the man, but not the primal fear I’m experiencing in my nightmares, my panicked flight from my life, nor the murderous brute willing to kill to find me and finish the job he started.

Maddy.

The name sends a shiver down my spine. Whoever she is, the woman must somehow be involved in this all-too-real horror story, but I’m not sure I’m ready to know just yet.

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