He had an agenda.
He used me for information.
It’s a miracle Chloe understood my high-pitched, snot-strangled wailing when I entered her dorm room, choking on tears, shaking all over, and demanding her phone.
Mine wouldn’t let me make any calls, which I bet was Nash’s doing. He probably got his friend to hack my cell, proving my conclusions were valid.
Nash knew I’d connect the man in the flashback with him.
My acting proved useful on our silent ride back to campus. It took all my courage to lean over and kiss him like I didn’t know he’s the son of a murderer and—given the guns without serial numbers he owns—probably a murderer himself.
I was confused... scared of what I’d learned.
I couldn’t think straight after bolting out of his car. My first thought was to call Dad, but I suddenly understood his paranoia about our phones being tapped, so I rang Matthews.
“I need to leave,”I wept into the phone, clasping it in both quaking hands.“Now. I’m not safe here. Whoever’s after me sent someone over and—”
“Don’t waste time explaining,”Matthews cut in, every word tense.“I’ve been staying in town since my visit. I’ll pick you up as soon as I can. Pack the essentials and wait for me at the gate.”
That’s what I did.
I burst into my dorm room and threw my things into my bags in under five minutes. My heart drummed so fast I struggled to catch a breath, hyperventilating while I left two of my suitcases with Chloe. I couldn’t carry three down the narrow staircases by myself.
She kept asking questions, panic lacing her voice, eyes watering with tears, but all I could say wasI need to leave.
Hours later, my heart’s still beating an urgent rhythm and my chest aches whenever the blood-covered man with his unsettlingly familiar features invades my thoughts.
Rhett Willard, according to Matthews.
I told him everything.
Once he hauled my bags into the trunk and took the wheel of his sedan, words poured from my mouth without a filter. I told him about Alex, the flashbacks, the abuse, the girl he was seeing. I told him how interested Nash was in my returning memories and described the man from my flashback.
Matthews confirmed my nagging suspicion that Nash wasn’t who I thought.
Apparently, it’s long been rumored among the cops in Ohio that Rhett Willard has an illegitimate son, but no one has ever seen him.
I did.
And I saw Rhett.
Making the connection between the two men wasn’t difficult. Nash is a younger, broader, more sinister version of his father. They share the same jawline, dark eyes, facial features, posture... even the chin. The same ruthlessness emanates from their every move... and identical signet rings adorn their ring fingers—gold with an eagle in flight.
Then I remembered Nash reading my diary...
“He wants something I can’t remember,”I whispered to Matthews but all he replied was,“It’s best if your dad answers your questions. I’m not sure how much he wants me to tell you.”
I’m too exhausted to demand answers I won’t get. He called Dad earlier but I couldn’t pay attention to their conversation then; I was still shaking in the passenger seat like a stray kitten.
“What did Dad say when you called him earlier?” I ask. “Is he waiting for us?”
He nods, shifting in his seat. Taking one hand off the wheel, he twirls his wrist, then does the same with the other. I bet every muscle in his body is protesting the long drive. He was twenty minutes from Lakeside when I called... probably stationed within driving distance on my father’s orders.
“You should get some sleep, Hailey. We have a long drive ahead and you must be exhausted.”
I am, but there’s no way in hell I’ll fall asleep. Not with this turmoil of emotions running rampant inside me. Not with this stab of betrayal threatening to wreck me.
“Can we stop for coffee somewhere?” I counter, staring out of the window.
