Shadows of You （Lost & Found #4）
Catherine Cowles
PROLOGUE
Rain pounded against the windshield in a steady drum that only seemed to accentuate the thumping rhythm in my chest. I glanced in the rearview mirror, taking mental stock of the vehicles behind me.
Red Acura. Navy sedan. White Honda minivan.
It was the navy sedan that had me on edge. Cars that blended tended to be the ones you needed to watch out for.
I slowed at a red light, one hand slipping beneath the neck of my T-shirt. My fingers eased over the angry, raised skin. Even months later, the flesh there still twinged. I wasn’t sure if there was still a wound somewhere under the surface or if it was just phantom pain—ghosts of what had happened still haunting me.
A bubbly laugh broke through my thoughts. My gaze shifted back to the rearview mirror, taking in the source of the sound. My girl grinned, her tiny mouth full of spit bubbles and her first few teeth poking through.
For her.
That was why I was doing all of this. Because she deserved everything good in the world. And I was going to make sure she got it.
Pressure built behind my eyes. “For her. I’ll do anything for her.” I muttered the words over and over as if to build up my belief in them.
A horn honked behind me, and I jolted, gaze flying to the rearview mirror. It was the navy sedan. Some hurried businessperson behind the wheel.
It would’ve irked me under normal circumstances—that rude impatience. But now, I felt nothing but blissful relief. If he’d been following me, he never would’ve honked, wouldn’t have drawn attention to himself.
I eased my foot off the brake and placed it on the accelerator. “It’s a brand-new adventure,” I told Lucy as though I’d actually believe it if I said it enough.
She banged her little fists on the car seat. “Ba!” she said in emphasis.
“I’m taking that as excitement.” Or she simply wanted her toy ball.
I flipped on my blinker and made a right-hand turn into the mall’s parking structure. Plenty of cars were doing the exact same thing I was. I couldn’t help but investigate each one, trying to read if the soccer mom or elderly gentleman had ulterior motives.
Rolling down my window, I grabbed a parking ticket. “Lower levels. P4, section C.” I whispered the words to myself over and over. I’d memorized Evan’s instructions the past three days as I packed as much of our belongings as possible while still following his dictates to “keep it light.”
Traveling with a toddler meant you could never keep it light. I drove my sedan to the basement levels, fighting a shiver as darkness descended. Sure, fluorescent lights guided my way, but lights could fail.
“Maybe we can get a kitty at our new house,” I told Lucy.
She blew air through her lips in answer.
“I’ll even let you name him.”
I had to focus on the happy. The silver linings of everything we were facing. It would be the only thing to get us through.
Pulling into an empty parking spot, I gripped the steering wheel, unmoving. Blood roared in my ears as my palms dampened. I could do this. I’d already been through hell; the last thing I needed was to stay here and subject myself to more.
Shutting off the engine, I let out a whoosh of air. I climbed out and rounded to open the back door. Bending, I unhooked Lucy’s straps as she chattered away in mostly nonsensical sounds, punctuated by the few words she had in her vocabulary. She slapped a hand against my cheek, and a laugh bubbled out of me. That light expulsion of air almost sent me into a fit of sobs.
Keep it together. Just a little longer.
It was the same refrain I’d been telling myself for months. But it was the only thing that got me through. That, and Lucy.
My throat burned. Soon, I wouldn’t be able to use the name she’d had since birth. That felt so incredibly wrong. But safe was more important.
Footsteps sounded behind me, and I whirled. A little of my anxiety eased when I saw the familiar face. “Evan.”
His name sounded more like a rasp of breath than actual syllables.
Light brown brows pulled together. “You okay?”
Another laugh burst free, but this one had a hysterical edge. “Okay is the last thing I am.”
I was leaving behind everything I’d ever known, every person and my entire support system.
Evan reached out and squeezed my shoulder, revealing the gun and badge at his hip. “You’re going to be just fine.”
I nodded, resisting the urge to bite my lip.
He released me and handed over a folder and a set of keys. “New identification. The name changes are sealed. No one will be able to track you.”