1
Norman Fowler was free to terrorize her again.
Icy-cold fear slid over Megan Cash. She’d imagined this day. How she’d imagined it.
Terrifying, breath-stopping, the man who’d threatened her with a gun during a bank robbery coming back into her life. Now here he was, striding across the gas station lot, heading toward her car.
Had he seen her? Worse yet, followed her to make good on his threat?
Averting her face, she considered flooring the gas pedal and fleeing, but where could she go?
Two cars in front. One behind. Three at the island to the side. All with nozzles feeding gas tanks like umbilical cords. She was trapped unless she wanted to jump from the car and take off running, making herself even more of a target.
C’mon, Megan. Deep breaths. Maybe it’s not him.
She’d seen him hundreds of times in the thirteen years since she’d testified against him. The pockmarked face with the long jaw now covered with a thick beard, jutted out in anger, a tattered Tacoma Rainiers baseball cap snug on his head and hiding long dishwater blond hair.
Hundreds of times she’d been wrong. Had to be wrong. He occupied a federal prison cell for robbing the bank where she’d worked. But today was different. He could have completed his prison sentence and could be free.
A hard knocking sounded on the window. Her heart dropped to her stomach.
“You want gas or what, lady?” the attendant’s voice shot through the cracked-open window, letting the caustic smell of gasoline waft in.
Right. Gas.She had to do something or even the lack of action could make Fowler look her way.
Make a small purchase.That’s what she would do so she didn’t draw attention to herself. When the cars in front of her moved, she would race away. She fished through her wallet and withdrew her credit card.
“Twenty dollars. Regular.” Keeping her face averted, she slid her card through the gap and shrank back to watch in the mirror as he went to pump her gas.
Thankfully, she was hiding in the car and not standing by the pump when Fowler advanced her way. She’d never imagined Oregon’s restrictions on consumers pumping gas might save her life.
“Hey, dude,” her attendant called out. “Didn’t know you got sprung.”
Was he talking to Fowler? If so, maybe this meeting was a coincidence.
She risked a quick peek—spotted the sharp profile of the lunatic who’d threatened her in the bank, chatting with the attendant on the far side of the pumps.
A shudder of revulsion swept through her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Fowler. Not yet. Not until she was certain he was the man she’d stared at while he threatened to draw a gun and shoot her if she didn’t put money from her drawer into a bag.
Why he and his partner had chosen their bank and singled her out, she had no idea—none—and he never explained. As his partner slid a bank robbery note across her counter, Fowler’s angry eyes declared he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if she didn’t comply. Of course, then she hadn’t known Fowler was a suspected killer. He was never charged with killing his best friend due to lack of evidence, but law enforcement believed him guilty.
So in her ignorance, she pressed the silent alarm, grabbed a letter opener from where she’d been opening the branch mail, and plunged it into his arm. He jerked back, slipping on the old marble floor, falling, and breaking his ankle.
The police arrived. His partner fled. Fowler could only crawl. Was arrested on the spot.
He blamed her for his injury and threatened to get even once he was free again.
Now here he was, and she couldn’t let that happen. Not with her daughter, Ella, depending on her.
“You move back down here now?” the attendant asked.
“Nah, just staying at the Creek Water Motel for a while.” Fowler’s gruff voice grated on Megan. “Wanna get a drink to celebrate my freedom?”
Fowler’s raspy voice was seared into her memory, but this guy’s tone was less grating. Maybe age had changed the timbre. Or her mind could be playing tricks on her.
Was this even Fowler? Physical appearance changed a lot in the passing years and the beard didn’t help.
Her gas pump clicked off, and the attendant walked to the rear of her car. Fowler followed. She jerked her head away and held her hand to the side of her face.
