She’d become so used to not being Taylor that it hadn’t occurred to her until now that if the message was, in fact, from Nathan, he knew her new name.And if he knew that—and her phone number—he probably knew where she was.
“You okay?”Trent asked before she could figure out what the latest text meant.She hadn’t even noticed he’d returned to the table.“You’ve gone pale, darlin’.”
She crumpled the napkin into a ball in her hand and plastered a fake smile on her face.
“What?No.It’s fine.José’s sending me a shift change.Was hoping for a few more hours.”
She swiped the screen closed.She needed to call Lydia.
***
“I think I’m in trouble.”Harper clutched the phone to her ear and looked out her bedroom window at the miserable concrete view.She paced back to the bed, where she picked at a thread of a loose button on the comforter while she explained about the texts.
“They were anagrams, Lydia.Those were my thing.Nathan used to send me anagrams all the time.”Harper tried to ignore memories of finding the little noteAvoiding our yellattached to the bathroom mirror one morning.Darling, I love you.He’d admitted later to finding it on the Web, laughing at how it was the first and last time he’d use the word “darling,” but it hadn’t taken away her joy at the way he had told her the first time that he loved her.
“No one knows that aboutHarper,” she told her lawyer.She reached for the piece of paper with the solved anagrams.I missed you Harper—it isn’t over.The first of the texts.The second was more menacing:You can run but never be free.
“Okay.I want you to send them to me and I’ll try to find out, discreetly, what Nathan has been up to.He doesn’t have access to a cell phone in prison, though.And to be honest, I can’t see him screwing up his chance of parole this close to his review.If you’re really concerned, though, you should contact the police.”
“The police?Really?”
“Taylor, nobody wishes more than me that you had stayed around so we could have filed charges against Winston and the chief of police.It was a corrupt few.Don’t let your experience stop you from getting help if you need it.”
Going to the police would involve revealing who she really was.There would be reports, an electronic paper trail.Detectives waving giant Miami Police Department badges would conduct the investigation.And that was assuming she could find any kind of strength to set foot in a police station ever again.
Harper rubbed her forehead.She was in a no-win situation.She knew what Lydia said was true, but in her gut, she couldn’t believe the texts were a prank.The carjacking was connected, sheknewit.How could it not be?One thing the trial had taught her: Nathan didn’t need to be close by to hurt her, and if he’d caught up with her now…
After saying good-bye to Lydia, she sent the texts to her and set her phone down on the bed.There was a small rip in the wallpaper, which was begging her to take hold and pull.The emotional and physical impacts of the last four years were just beginning to subside.It was the psychological ones that were likely to make her crazy.
Didn’t she deserve a new life though?What about all those clichéd adages about today being the start of the rest of your life?Or the old chestnut, “Don’t let your past dictate your future.”There must be more than an element of truth to them; every self-help book in the library spouted them.
Harper considered the message she had left for Trent earlier.Awoken from a playfully erotic dream involving the two of them and a bottle of chocolate sauce, she’d felt an urgent need to take their relationship a step further.She could sit here for the rest of the day thinking about all the horrors that could be on their way, or she could stop fiddling with the button thread before it fell off and get on with her life.
***
By ten o’clock, Trent was back in the studio, his trip to Marathon to visit Kyoko, Junior’s wife, complete.He looked at the bonsai sitting on the corner of his desk, one from Kyoko’s personal collection, and laughed recalling her words.
“How dare you make me wait all these years before asking for a bonsai to give to a girl,” she’d scolded when he’d asked for one of the small trees she nurtured.
Checking his phone, he could see the voice mail alert.Damn reception down in the Keys was not the best.
The first message was from Michael Cooper’s assistant.They wanted to make arrangements for him to travel to LA to meet with the team of the still-unnamed TV show.
The second was from Harper.
“Hey, baby.”She sounded sleepy and he swore he heard the sound of sheets rustling.Maybe he was just getting desperate.His hand had been his only bedtime partner of late and the idea of Harper, naked, soft and warm… mmm.
“I’m sorry our schedules didn’t work out so well this week, but I really enjoyed lunch yesterday.I was thinking maybe you could… umm… well, come over.To my place.On Saturday.To my place… did I say that already?”He smiled, pleased he could fluster her without even being there.
“I thought I’d cook you dinner.I mean, I know you have to work, but you know, later.Or whatever.Anyway.Call me and let me know.Bye, baby.”
Oh yeah.Maybe the drought was coming to an end.
Chapter Thirteen
He picked up the wine and the box containing the bonsai, making a conscious decision to leave his overnight bag in the car.If he were a betting man, he’d put money on needing it, but he didn’t want to freak Harper out with his presumptuousness.
He cast a quick glance up to the open windows of her apartment when he reached the front of the building.He was about to press the buzzer when a tall meathead opened the door.
