A short, red-cheeked woman leaned in, staring at Carla across the bed as if she’d never seen anyone sit on the floor before. “You okay, miss?”
“Yes. Fine.” Carla managed a sickly smile.
The housekeeper held her gaze a moment longer, clearly unconvinced. Then she drew a deep breath, making her nostrils flare. “Sorry to bother you.”
She backed up and pulled the door shut.
Carla exhaled and closed her eyes. Rested her head against the side of the bed. Her ankle throbbed and hunger pricked at her. She’d had nothing to eat since lunch yesterday.
She checked the clock radio on the nightstand: 9:54. Carla gasped. Almost ten o’clock! She had to get
out
of here. Rent a car and drive . . . somewhere.
Hopelessness washed over her. She was so tired, physically and emotionally. Too much pain from reliving her past last night. All the manipulation, the lies. The wrong choices. Reading her teenage thoughts now, with the wisdom of an adult, she was amazed at what she’d survived. As the story played out, she’d watched the confident, brassy girl she’d once been reduced to a mere shell. Broken, no friends, no one to turn to.
And still the scenes haunted her. Even in the terror of running for her life, Carla knew those vivid pages from her past would flash through her mind all day. One word, a phrase, some object would be all it would take to set the scenes rolling. Worse, the terrible mistakes she’d made all those years ago would now affect innocent people. She knew her friends would be worried about her.
Bryson Hanley.
How could such a brilliant politician, a man with the world ahead of him, take such risks?
No wonder she was in danger. Reading that journal had made her realize what a miracle it was they’d left her alone this long. If they’d known about the diary, she’d have been dead long ago. It was proof of all that happened.
Fear pushed Carla off the floor and onto her feet. She rested her weight on her right leg. No time to eat now. No time for a shower or makeup or change of clothes.
She limped into the bathroom, splashed her face, avoiding her reflection in the mirror. Pain still pounded her ankle, even though it had been elevated all night. How much worse would it be hours from now? She should get the thing wrapped.
Back near the bed, she snatched up the diary and stuffed it deep inside her purse. She flapped the blanket and sheets around, unballed the coverlet, seeking anything else she might have unpacked. What had she missed? Her brain wouldn’t focus
.
With each passing minute Carla’s suspicion of the hotel housekeeper grew. And if not that woman, maybe the clerk at the desk last night, who’d seen Carla’s name on her credit card. What if Thornby came around this morning? She’d left a trail, the last thing she should have done.
Carla’s hands trembled.
Sudden memories flooded her. She held out her shaking left hand, picturing a delicate ruby heart ring upon her finger . . .
Stop it!
She swallowed hard, tossed down the bedcover. She
had
to focus. Did she have everything? She dared not leave any item behind that could lead to her.
Carla scanned the room. Saw nothing.
Okay, you’re fine — just go.
She picked up her purse and began pulling her suitcase toward the door, trying not to wince.
Somewhere behind her, a cell phone rang.
I missed writing in this diary last night. I was too excited. Scott gave me a ring to celebrate four months together! It’s beautiful — a gold band with a little ruby heart. It fits perfectly. I’ll wear it forever. I know he makes good money on the construction crew, but still, it must have cost at least two weeks’ pay.
We were in his car, parked in our favorite spot on that dirt road in the forest, outside town. Not exactly Paris, but it beats sitting in this house. He kissed me and whispered, “I love you.” First time I’ve heard him say that.
“I love you too.” I hugged him hard, never wanting to let go.
I could marry Scott. No one could ever treat me better. I love everything about him. The creases in the corners of his eyes when he smiles. The stupid jokes he tells to make me laugh — especially when I’m mad at Mom. The way he holds me, the way he kisses. His muscles. His smell. Mostly the way he lifts me up. “You’re the most beautiful girl in this town,” he says. “A thousand guys want you — and I’m the one who got you.”
Okay, he’s exaggerating a little. Maybe nine hundred and ninety-nine.
Then — today.
I was in the campaign office alone. Jilke was on some errand. Senator Hanley came in from a late lunch, looking for Jilke. “
He not back yet?” He fiddled with his tie, like his mind was on a million important things. He’d had a haircut. It was a little shorter over his ears.
“He shouldn’t be too much longer.” I pushed back from my desk. “Can I do something for you?”
He stopped messing with his tie. Stood there looking down at me. For some reason I felt all hot. I started thinking crazy things. Scott, and his blue eyes, only Senator Hanley’s are brown. Scott, and the way he stands with his feet apart, arms folded, only Bryson Hanley was now leaning with one hand on my desk. “Too bad you’ll be going back to school in the fall, Carla. I could use someone like you full-time.”
Where was my tongue? “I could still work for you after school. Besides, Mr. Jilke would fall apart without me.”
Oh, great, a smart remark. Slipped out before I could stop it.
Bryson Hanley grinned.
Grinned.
Like I’d told the funniest joke. “And a sense of humor too.” He shook his head, but his eyes never left mine.
I sat glued to my seat. I wasn’t thinking about Scott anymore.
Senator Hanley straightened. I tilted my head up at him. “Have you ever taken dictation, Carla?”
Why did the sound of my name from his mouth give me such chills?
He smiled, like he knew his effect on me. And he didn’t mind.
“No.” I shrugged. “But I’m a fast learner. Start talking; I’ll write.”
He laughed. “Let’s try it then. I have a letter I’d like to get done now. Besides, you’re a lot prettier than Jilke.”
Pretty. And he called the man Jilke. Just like I do. Like he
knows.
I grabbed a pad of paper and pen. Tried not to show my legs were trembling as I sat down in his office, right across the desk from him. He dictated slowly enough for me to keep up. Leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, watching me the whole time. Not that I had a chance to look up, but I could
feel
his eyes on me.
By the time I typed the letter, Jilke was back. I walked to Senator Hanley’s office, ready to knock, so he could sign the letter.
“What are you doing?” Jilke demanded.
I waved the paper at him. “He dictated a letter. It needs to be signed.”
Jilke was on his feet in a heartbeat. “I’ll take it in.”
I shrugged. “Whatever.” I gave it to him and went back to my desk. Sat there kind of pouting, twisting my ruby ring, while he was with Senator Hanley.
An hour later Jilke was down the hall, and Senator Hanley came out of his office. “Carla, perfect job.” He gave me one of his dazzling smiles.
“Thanks.”
He leaned on my desk again — this time with both hands. I could smell his aftershave. “I’ll have to put those skills of yours to use more often.”
I twisted my ring. “Anytime.”
Two steps from her room door, Carla froze. A silent second ticked by. Her cell phone rang again.
A vague memory surfaced of lying on the bed hours ago, tossing the phone down by her feet . . .
What if it was Thornby, taunting her? Telling her he was waiting for her outside?
Carla stumbled around her suitcase, looking for the phone. On the third ring she found it half under the bed. She snatched it up, checked the ID.
Java Joint
.
She sucked in a breath.
Bailey
. How Carla wanted to answer. Just to hear Bailey’s voice, to tell her she was in terrible trouble and needed her help —
Any friend who helps you is dead
.
A fourth ring. One more, and it would go to voice mail. A friend so near and yet so far. Carla closed her fingers around the phone hard, as if to squeeze out an answer of what to do.
The fifth ring began —
Carla snapped the phone open. Then stared at it, wild-eyed. What had she done?
She steeled herself, willed her voice to sound normal. “Hello.”
“Carla, it’s Bailey! Are you all right?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Oh, I’m so glad. You really had me worried.”
Carla sank down on the bed. The closed drapes cast a blue pallor on the room, turning her beige slacks a sickly gray. “Why would you be worried?”
“Well, you were supposed to meet Wilbur here a long time ago. He’s fit to be tied. I called your office and home but couldn’t find you. And then — ”
“Oh, Wilbur. I forgot all about him. I just . . . I’ve had a busy morning.” Despite her efforts, Carla’s tone took on an edge. “Tell him I can’t come today. I’ll make it up to him.”
“What’s going on?” Bailey’s voice tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“Carla, come on. You don’t sound right. Plus it’s not like you to just not show up somewhere when you’ve promised. And then this strange woman called you a little while ago.”
Carla sat up straighter. “What woman?”
“She said her name’s Ellie. No last name. Said she knew you years ago, and it’s very important that she talks to you soon.”
Ellie?
“Do you know who she is?”
Years ago
. The timing couldn’t be coincidental. Carla sorted through old friends’ names. “I don’t remember any Ellie.”
“Frankly, I think she was lying. She hesitated to even give me a name at all. Why she’d lie, I don’t know. And she sounded almost scared. Like she was in a big hurry. She cut off the conversation all of a sudden. Said she’d call you back.”
Ellie . . . Think as Carla might, no one came to mind. Had her old friend Mary Kay called and given a false name? Could
she
know something?
But Carla had never told Mary Kay.
Who
could know something about the past? Could this person tell her why her life was suddenly in danger?
“Carla, you there?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s going on? This is scaring me. After all that’s happened here, it’s easy to think the worst.”
Carla squeezed her eyes shut. How she wanted to tell Bailey.
Call Chief Edwards — tell him someone’s trying to kill me. Tell him
to protect me; I’m coming home . . .
“I’m fine, Bailey. Just fine.”
Silence. Carla could practically hear Bailey thinking,
I don’t
believe you
.
“She wanted your cell phone number,” Bailey finally said. “Do you want me to give it to her?”
What if this wasn’t a friend at all? What if it was a ruse to find out where she was? Maybe this woman was working with Thornby.
“No.”
But maybe she wasn’t. Thornby already had her cell number. Maybe this Ellie really did have the information Carla so desperately sought.
“Yes.” Carla’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know.”
“Carla.” Bailey’s voice fell to a near whisper. “
Tell
me what’s going on. I want to help you.”
Carla’s throat tightened. “How did this Ellie know to call me at Java Joint?”
“Scenes and Beans, I guess. Anybody who reads our blog knows you’re here every morning.”
Oh. Right.
“So are you going to tell me?”
Carla rubbed her forehead. Maybe if she rubbed hard enough she’d wipe this nightmare right out of her mind. “I
can’t
.”
Silence again.
“I’ll be praying for you, Carla. Hard. I suppose you know you’re scaring me silly.”
“I know.” Carla could barely speak. “I’m scaring me too.”
Her eyes fell on the clock. Almost ten thirty. Anxiety knocked through her veins. She should have been out of here long ago. She pushed to her feet.
“What do you want me to do about Ellie?” Bailey asked. “Give her your number or not?”
Scenes and Beans. A terrorizing thought pierced Carla. Bailey was right — hundreds of people across the country read the blog each weekday morning. If Ellie knew Carla’s close ties to Java Joint, so did everyone else. Like Thornby. Come to think of it, when he’d first called about the Edna San estate, he’d mentioned the blog.
What if he had someone watching Carla’s cell phone account to see if Java Joint called when she didn’t show up? Was it possible to listen in on cell phone calls? Or what if they were watching Java Joint’s phone?
“Bailey.” Carla’s voice sharpened, and she couldn’t stop it. Not now, not after realizing just by answering her cell she may have placed Bailey in danger. “Just ignore that woman. She’s some crackpot. And don’t call me again, you hear? I
do not
want to talk to you! I don’t want to talk to
anyone
at Java Joint. And in fact,
you
should mind your own business and quit talking on that phone so much.”
Carla jerked the cell away from her ear and snapped it shut. With a heavy punch of a button, she turned it off.
She fell back onto the bed, dropped her head into her hands —and shook.
Ten minutes later, feeling lonelier than she ever had in her life, Carla checked out of the hotel and limped outside to the parking lot, pulling her suitcase. From the recesses of her mind rose the image of Bryson Hanley, smiling at her across a desk. The smile that had brought her to this day, this moment.
Weighted with memories and fear, Carla set out on what could be a death walk to her car.
It happened today. The thing I’ve been dreaming of. And scared to death of.
Ever since that day two weeks ago, when Bryson Hanley leaned over my desk and smiled at me — hadn’t I known deep in my heart I wanted it? Even though I tried to tell myself I was crazy.
Now I can hardly see straight. He’s all I can think about.
Every time I was in his office the past two weeks, the air sort of tingled. Bryson would dictate letters or explain some project he wants me to do — no more going through Jilke. But no matter what he was talking about, he’d get this look in his eyes. The same look Scott gets. Only it’s . . . older. Wiser. Like he knows just what I need, and he’s going to take care of me. Like he wants me so much, and the only thing holding him back is Jilke in the next room, and — oh, yeah, his wife.