“What’s your plan then?”
Her head shook again.
“That’s what I thought. Get your stuff and I’ll take you.”
“You never answered my question!” she accused with a wobbly voice. A voice etched into my memory. My stomach clenched.
Please don’t cry.
“What question?”
“Were you following me?”
“Yeah and thank goodness I was!”
“But why?”
I pulled her wallet from my back pocket and handed it to her. “You left this on top of your car. It fell.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Oh.”
I sighed, conflicting feelings that Ihatedpressing against my ribcage. “Listen, Miranda, you need help.” I moved to close her hood. “I know you hate my guts, but I’m not leaving you on the side of the road to fend for yourself.”
“I remember how.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. I’d taught her some self-defense and for her size? She was pretty good. “You might be able to throw some decent punches, but in a place like this—that’s not enough.”
She squeezed her arms tighter around her torso, looking up the street one more time. She shivered and my heart tripped.
I’d noticed her physical condition in the meeting, but now I let my eyes truly linger on her.
Something was off.
Big time.
My brain threw red flags right and left.
Part of me wanted to take stuff out on her. Blame her for the insanity that went down in the meeting. But the wind left my sails. A twisting feeling in my midsection shut my mouth.
Her clothes were nice, although incongruent. She wore a pair of dress pants, a white button up shirt, and a white ball cap. The business formal and casual styles clashed. But it wasn’t her clothes that bothered me. She looked…sick. Unhealthy. Not like the woman I used to know.
Miranda had been round and curvy with beautiful legs and a pert behind. When we were married, I’d tease her by saying her 5’3'' stature packed a punch. Now, she looked thin and frail. Her clothes hung off the parts of her that used to stretch material.
I knew from too much experience Miranda outright refused food when she was stressed.
Couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her life.
And the way she was hiding behind her hair and hat…
I’d been berating her. Decided to soften my tone a bit. “Please. Let me drive you.”
Innate intuition has always been one of my most valuable assets. Has saved my life a time or two. But no amount of sixth sense could’ve prepared me for what I heard next.
ELEVEN
Jack
Asharp, high-pitched screech sounded from inside the Corolla. For the first time, I peered past her tinted windows. A little boy with tousled blonde hair was kicking his feet like a maniac, screaming, “Mommy!”
