A Twisted Love Story(85)
Wes sat at a table, a baseball cap pulled down low, and ate a mediocre sandwich while nursing a beer. As soon as the news hit that he had disappeared, he left.
He was careful to avoid intersections with traffic cams, sticking to smaller side streets as he made his way across town to the one hiking trail in Fair Valley.
Chances are, they would search it. Eventually. But he was betting they would start with the people he knew. Ivy, his coworkers, and friends from college. He hasn’t contacted any of them. Plus, he has been hiking for years. He knows how to hide.
The second stage of getting out was a rideshare app. He created a new account with a fake name and a blurry picture, along with an open request for anyone traveling east toward the Grand Canyon. A random location, because he had no idea where to go. He just needed to get out of this area and out of California.
Three responses came within a day. Wes chose a young guy who lived the van life and liked to “smoke weed and vibe.” And, hopefully, not pay attention to the news.
The guy was leaving tonight on his trip. All he wanted was good company and help paying for gas along the way. They arranged to meet in the parking lot of the now-abandoned Rolling Hills Mall, where the guy had his van parked in a little community of road warriors.
That was it. His whole plan. Get out, get his money, figure out how to set himself up with a new life.
And then contact Ivy.
Of all the things he has to worry about, she is one of the biggest. Not because he really thinks Ivy will turn against him. He’s had doubts, especially over the past few days. But when push comes to shove and everything gets real—which it is, very much so—Ivy has his back.
What she doesn’t have is patience.
The decision to run came down to one thing: when. He had no doubt Ivy was going to confess at some point. Today, tomorrow, at his trial. It was inevitable. As much as she tries, Ivy can only control herself for so long.
Now that he’s on the run, her confession would be useless. No one would believe it.
70
The escalation of Wes’s plan came yesterday morning, when Bryce called with some additional news.
“My assistant knows a clerk in the DA’s office,” he said. “I have more information about that witness, though it sounds like rumors, so take it with a grain of salt.”
What Bryce had told him led to Wes sitting in this house.
He shouldn’t be. Wes should be out on the hiking trail, avoiding detection until it’s time to meet up with his rideshare, but he couldn’t let this go. This isn’t some random stranger. This is personal.
Darkness falls, which makes him tense up again. He watches the street and the driveway, not moving at all. Can’t risk a trip to the bathroom now. He stays in the same place until he sees the headlights.
Wes gets up and goes into the family room, where he takes off his shoes and flattens himself against the wall. Behind him is the entryway. He listens to the front door open and close. The clink of keys as they hit the side table. No voices, which is the luckiest break he’s had yet. He had been worried about guests.
Footsteps on the hardwood floor get louder as they move down the hall, toward him, and then they get softer.
The bedroom.
Perfect. No way out of that room without breaking the window.
He tiptoes down the hall, avoiding that one spot where the floor creaks. He had plenty of time today to discover anything that could give him away. Wes peeks around the corner, into the bedroom. The bathroom door is closed.
Wes moves over to the nightstand and picks up the cell phone. No landline in the house—he already checked.
He waits, standing in front of the doorway. A baseball bat leans against the doorframe next to him. He found it under the bed, hours ago, when he searched the whole place for weapons, and took it so it couldn’t be used against him.
When Wes initially heard about the witness, his first instinct told him it was Heath. The obvious choice. Heath had never liked him, and he would definitely lie to put Wes in prison and away from Ivy. For years, it’s pissed him off that Ivy can’t see how toxic Heath is.
But the call from Bryce changed everything. The rumor, according to his assistant, was that they’d been overheard arguing about the accident, with Ivy blaming Wes for everything. And it all happened at Siphon, Inc.
Not Heath.
When she opens the bathroom door and sees him, she freezes. Not for long, though. And there’s no surprise on that beautiful face.
They stare at each, neither one moving, until he speaks.
“Abigail.”
* * *
—
Karen sits in yet another meeting with all of her superiors, along with the public information officer, Sierra. She’s about thirty, a perpetually camera-ready woman that the reporters and viewers love. But she’s tired of this.
“The police are still being blamed,” Sierra says. “No matter how many times I say we have nothing to do with setting bail, or how easy it is to cut off that monitor, they’re still blaming us.”
Captain William Doyle isn’t happy with the coverage, either. “I’ve spoken to the DA about issuing a statement.”
No one says anything, because no one believes the DA will ever issue a statement, much less make a comment. Why take the heat if you don’t have to?
Doyle turns to Karen. Her sergeant wasn’t the only one upset about the interview she gave to one of the local stations. Doyle had been, as well. Cart before the horse, he had said. Karen hadn’t felt bad about making her sergeant angry, but she did feel bad about letting Doyle down.