I cursed softly.
I left work early,trying not to think about the evening that lay ahead. As soon as I opened the door of my apartment, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. A scent. Someone had been inside.
Has he found me?I entered slowly. I took the mace from my handbag, held it out in front of me, and crept through the door, listening carefully.
Alex hadn’t called with any follow-up from our last conversation. Then again, that had been a month ago. I was supposed to have followed up with him, but I’d snoozed the reminder on my phone when I was at the restaurant with Elle.
He was a police officer I’d met while working at a diner when I first arrived in Vancouver. Being a block away from the police station, he’d often come in for coffee, either alone or with his partner. One day, he’d asked me to have a seat across from him. His brown eyes had been serious as he slid a piece of paper across the table.
It was a picture of a girl—not me as I looked now, but a younger version of myself who vaguely resembled me. My hair was much shorter in the photo. Etched across it were the words:Wanted for robbery and assault.
My senses had sharpened instantly. Knowing I couldn’t outrun Alex, I told him everything. “He knows the law,” I’d said. “He has resources and contacts at his disposal.”
“I won’t let him find you, Nyah,” he’d said, trying to reassure me. “Trust me.”
“You don’t understand,” I’d said, irritation creeping into my voice. “He’s dangerous.”
Keeping my identity a secret, Alex had started an investigation. He’d put a tracker on Jeremy Lipster to alert me if he ever showed up in Vancouver.
I’d been so careful. Keeping a low profile was a priority. No Facebook. No Twitter. And especially no Instagram. I declined every request to tag me in pictures on social media, even when Elle or Donna asked. I’d outright refused when the interviewer pressed for at least one photo for theHospitalitymagazine article.
Now, as I entered the kitchen and grabbed a knife, my breathing was quick and shallow. I inspected each room. I opened every closet. I checked behind the curtains. My hands started to shake and flutter.
I turned on all the lights in the living room and looked under every piece of furniture. I scrutinized every inch of Lucas’s room. Every muscle in my body was clenched as I crouched to look under the bed.
In my lilac-coloured bedroom, I found my lingerie drawer open.Did I leave it that way?Adrenaline shot through my system, triggering the sickening flutter of palpitations in my chest. Everything was still neatly folded and in place. I closed the drawer.Maybe I did leave it open.
I turned in a slow three-sixty, scrutinizing my surroundings. Finally satisfied, I called Larry, the condo concierge.
He told me there’d been a maintenance check on all apartments over the past week and that security had escorted the workers in case residents weren’t home. “Didn’t you get the memo?” he asked.
I apologized, wiped the sweat from my face, and breathed a sigh of relief. After double-checking that the door was bolted shut, I checked my mail—and there it was.
A bright red memo nestled between the other envelopes.
As I flicked through the mail, I saw another letter from Lucas. I shrieked and tore it open.
Dear Mama,
We are now in a place called Deer Lake Park. Last night we all slept under the stars. It was magecal. I shot a riffel. I am a good aimer. Do you think we can get one?
There are a lot of animals here, too. I really like dogs. If I had a dog, I would name him after my favourite cookie. My friends and me put peanut butter in the cousillor’s hat. It wasvery funny. We will catch glow worms now, and there is a storey telling session in the night. All of us are very excited.
I miss you, Mama, and I can’t wait to see you.
Love, Lucas
A quick call to him made me feel better instantly.
I lay down for what was supposed to be a short nap, but ended up hitting snooze twice. After eating leftover pasta, I showered, then called Dr. Sloan to ask if I could skip that night’s dose of my medication. He’d given me his personal number the first time we met and told me I could call anytime I had questions or concerns.
“Yes, you can,” he said, sounding concerned. “But when are you planning to do the surgery? The medication can only get you so far.”
I thought of the letter and the money I’d left for Elle to care for Lucas if anything ever happened to me. “It will be soon,” I promised. “Most probably by the end of summer.”
After hanging up, I got ready for the evening. My emerald, one-shoulder dress lay on the bed, waiting.I am going to have fun whether Mr. Pompous shows up or not.
12
