The Perfect Couple (Last Stand #4)(95)
Author: Brenda Novak

If only Jonathan had received that information earlier…

"How’d you know he was crazy?" Jonathan weaved through traffic.

Their exit was coming up.

"Shit, can you slow down?" Glen said. "I’d like to live another day."

Jonathan ignored him. He’d lost too much time. "How’d you know?"

he asked again.

"We met after Colin was an adult, but I’ve seen him often enough to know he’s a sneaky little bastard. Puts on a front, tries to be something he ain’t. If he doesn’t feel he needs you, you’ll see more of the real Colin." He paused. "He pretty much steers clear of me. I don’t have anything he wants, being blue-collar and all." He shook his head. "And the way he treats his wife…"

"That badly?"

"Not so much in front of people–although if you watch closely you’ll see it. All he has to do is shoot her a look, you know? And she’ll shut up or leave or do whatever it is he wants. I can imagine what goes on behind closed doors. I once heard him talkin’ to Tiffany in the back bedroom at my mother’s place, and I tell ya, I’d stab the prick, if it were me." He patted the pocket of his T-shirt. "Jesus, why’d I have to choose this week to quit smoking?"

Jonathan navigated his way through a handful of slow-moving campers.

Frowning over the absence of cigarettes, Glen braced himself against the dashboard as Jonathan whipped around another semi. He opened his mouth to complain about the near miss, but Jonathan interrupted before he could. "Why didn’t Colin’s father see what he was?"

"Because Paddy was too busy blaming himself. No parent wants to acknowledge that their kid’s a bad seed. They have to trace everything that’s wrong with junior back to what they did to cause it, or what they didn’t do to fix it. And then the guilt sets in. My mother still blames herself for me not finishing high school. But like I told her yesterday, it was my choice." He chewed on the toothpick. "Man, I’ve done some shit I’m not proud of, but nothin’ like this. Nothin’ that makes me a freakin’ pervert."

Colin flipped on his blinker just in time to slip between a sports car and a Lexus sedan. "Where do you think Paddy is?"

"I don’t have a clue. Colin tried telling my mom I must’ve done something to him. Can you believe it? He knew Paddy and I weren’t gettin’

along, so he pointed the finger at me. He uses stuff like that, works it to his advantage."

"Why was there bad blood between you and Paddy?"

"We owned a lawn-mower shop together and it just…didn’t work.

We’re too different."

There it was. The Truckee exit. As Jonathan shot through the gap between a trucker and a Prius, Glen let loose with a fresh string of curses.

"You’re gonna kill us both."

"I go left here?" Colin said.

"Yeah, left."

"How were you and Paddy too different?" he asked as he made the turn.

Glen swayed into the door until Jonathan straightened the car. "He was way too controlling for me, man. I couldn’t miss a day, couldn’t ever expect him to lock up. He had a comment for every damn thing I said and did, watched every move I made. So we exchanged a few words, and I walked out." He shrugged. "I haven’t seen him since." He pointed at the next street. "You want this one."

"What happened to your real dad?"

He braced himself again as they veered around another corner. "Died of a heart attack ten years ago."

"If Colin’s done what I suspect, your mother might’ve lost another husband."

"You’d think she could catch a break," he muttered.

They didn’t talk any more after that. Jonathan was too focused on reaching the cabin, and Glen was too intent on navigating. They wound into the mountains on one narrow road after another. Jonathan recognized the first two turns as ones he’d taken before, but the third was different and the fourth road was barely visible.

"This thing all but disappears in spring," Glen said.

"Who maintains it?"

"No one. That’s the problem."

"Are there other cabins in the area?"

"Not for miles."

"Does Colin come up here very often?"

Glen glanced over at him. "All the time."

Jonathan swerved to avoid a deep rut and entered a small clearing with a rough-hewn log cabin, a stone firepit, an outhouse and a shed. Fresh tire tracks testified to the fact that someone had recently been here. There were granola-bar wrappers and an old blanket in the shed.

But that was all.

Zoe woke in the trunk of a car, her head pounding in rhythm with the thrumming of the tires. She’d tried to use those few seconds of surprise after she’d coldcocked Colin to get into Tiffany’s car, but he’d recovered too quickly. He’d pulled her out by the hair and punched her repeatedly.

After the first blow, she’d been too dazed to feel much. Fortunately, he’d been in a hurry, or she’d probably be dead. She must’ve passed out, and then he must’ve dumped her in his trunk and driven off, because she didn’t remember the middle part.

If only his trunk was a little bigger….

With a groan, she attempted to take stock of her injuries despite the cramped conditions. It wasn’t just her head that hurt. She was pretty sure she’d broken her hand when she hit him. And she was pretty sure he’d broken her jaw when he hit her. Not a good showing for her first fight.

So what was she going to do? Even if Jonathan managed to find the cabin, she was no longer there. Would she ever see him again? Would she ever see anyone again? And what about her poor daughter?

Tears of helplessness, frustration and fear ran into her hair. She couldn’t let Colin win, couldn’t end up as another sad statistic.

The car slowed and stopped. Zoe held her breath, expecting the trunk to open, but it didn’t. From what she could hear, they were at a gas station.

Someone unscrewed the gas cap, inserted the nozzle and began the fueling process.

Zoe smelled gas fumes. Then footsteps echoed on pavement as whoever it was–Colin, most likely–went to the cashier or the minimart or the bathroom…somewhere. And that was when she heard it. Sam’s voice.

Her daughter was calling to her from inside the car.

"Mom? Mommy, are you okay?" She broke into a sob. "Did he kill you?"

Such relief overwhelmed Zoe she could hardly speak. Not only was Sam alive, she was close. "Sammie, I’m okay."

"Mom? Are you there? Answer me!"

She hadn’t spoken loudly enough. Steeling herself against the pain of moving her jaw, Zoe tried again. "Don’t cry, baby. I’m fine. Everything’s going to be okay."

"You’re alive? Oh, thank God!"