Trust Me (Last Stand #1)(83)
Author: Brenda Novak

Oliver had never looked more docile than he did as he got out of the truck he’d borrowed from Noah and shut the door. Taking a piece of paper out of his pocket, he glanced down at it, smiled, then whistled as he bounded up the walk.

Jane thought of the suitcase lying in the middle of the floor, the overturned drawers, the scattered items in the bathroom and felt panic rise like a hot air balloon in her chest. He’d know she couldn’t be far; her car was parked right next to his truck. And she had his notebook. If he caught her with that…

She had to leave now, without so much as a change of clothes. She couldn’t waste even thirty seconds. By then he’d realize what she was doing.

She heard him call her name, knew he was walking through the house as she had done and was so frightened she almost couldn’t get her limbs to move. Open the gate! Run!

One hand fumbled in her purse for her keys as she lifted the latch and darted out.

“Jane? What’s going on?”

Oliver’s voice came from inside the house as she opened her car door and ducked inside. She tried to start the engine, but it merely coughed and sputtered and, after a few revs, died.

“Come on, baby. Not now,” she mumbled, cranking the starter again. “Not now.”

The noise brought Oliver to the window. Just as the recalcitrant engine fired, she saw the look on his face, and it terrified her. He was a soulless stranger, a man she’d never really known.

He disappeared, presumably headed for the door. Afraid he’d reach her before she could get away, she wrenched the gearshift into Reverse and floored the accelerator. The Lincoln jetted back and crashed into her neighbor’s car. The impact caused a whiplash effect, which slammed Jane’s mouth against the steering wheel, but she didn’t stop, even for a second. In some deep recess of her brain, she knew if Oliver managed to drag her back inside the house she wouldn’t come out of it alive.

“Jane! Stop!” he called as she rocketed away.

She heard nothing but the screech of her own brakes as she took the corner at forty miles an hour. An Acura was coming the other way. She had to swerve to avoid a head-on and sideswiped a tree, but she didn’t care. She was high on adrenaline, panting for breath and shaking so badly she could hardly drive.

The burning smell of rubber filled her nostrils as she squealed around the next corner, joining the traffic on Sunrise Boulevard. At that point, she couldn’t travel very fast. She could only watch her rearview mirror to make sure Oliver wasn’t following her.

But he didn’t have to follow her. He knew where she was going.

His parents still had Kate.

22

Planning to race after Jane, to chase her down, Oliver yanked the keys from his pocket and jumped into the truck. He didn’t know what the heck was going on, but he wasn’t about to let her leave him. Had she found the pills he’d purchased from the tattoo parlor? That had to be it. He couldn’t imagine anything else that would send her into such a panic. She’d been fine when he’d talked to her at work this afternoon.

He’d find her and bring her home, where he could talk her out of her fears. She’d believe him because she wanted to believe him. She’d believed him up until now, hadn’t she? But if she was on her way to get Kate, he’d have his parents to contend with, too….

He was already making up the lie he’d use when he got there—Those pills are just something I take when I can’t sleep…. Jane knows about that, she’s had problems sleeping in the past…. It’s not easy adjusting to the outside….—when another thought occurred to him.

He slammed on his brakes. What if Jane wasn’t going to his parents’ house? What if she was going to the police?

The gears growled as he threw the standard transmission into Reverse. Backing up, he parked in the drive. The truck sat there crookedly, but he didn’t care.

The collision moments earlier had brought the neighbor into the street. She was pointing and screaming about the dent Jane had left in her car.

Oliver couldn’t deal with that right now. If Jane was going to the police, he didn’t have much time. He had to retrieve everything that might incriminate him. But if she had the pills he’d just bought, there wasn’t a lot to recover. He had the knife with the eight-inch blade and Skye’s address in his pocket. And he’d wiped the memory on his PC, so no one could trace where he’d been on the Internet. All he had to do was grab his notebook.

“Hey, what’re you going to do about this?” the neighbor demanded, jogging across the lawn to catch him before he could enter the house.

“Our insurance will cover it, ma’am, no problem,” he said politely.

“You have insurance?”

“Of course. What kind of people do you think we are?”

As usual, his pleasant smile and courteous manner worked, and she began to settle down. “The woman who lives here seems nice enough,” she said, a little sulkily. “Keeps to herself for the most part. I didn’t even know she was married. Are you her husband or something?”

“Yes. We’ve been married for eleven years. You haven’t seen me because I’ve been in prison for attempted rape.”

This caused the neighbor’s eyes to widen and her jaw to drop.

“I was reckless enough to use a knife, which sort of compounded the charges,” he confided with a grin. “Assault with a deadly weapon and all that.”

Blinking rapidly, she backed up. “Oh…well…never mind. I guess we can figure it out later,” she said and ran straight home.

“Okay,” he called after her. “I’ll have Jane stop by when she gets back.” Bitch, he added under his breath, then stalked into the house.

At the sight of Jane’s suitcase lying on the floor, his hands curled into fists. Whatever she was doing, she wouldn’t get away with it. She wasn’t intelligent enough to outsmart him. He’d lived with her for eleven years, and she’d never suspected him of anything.

Kicking the suitcase aside, he went directly to the coat closet, where he removed the floorboard and checked for the pills.

They were there, exactly where he’d left them.

What did that mean? What had set Jane off?

He didn’t know, but he didn’t dare take any chances. Shoving the pills in his pocket, he hurried into the bedroom to get his notebook. Jane had torn the bed apart, looking for something. The bathroom was in no better state than the bedroom. Which wasn’t fair at all. He’d controlled himself with her last night; it wasn’t as if she could claim he’d abused her. And she’d been fine this morning. At least, she’d acted fine.