Page 31 of Laura's Truth

She wanted to handle this the right way, like an honest, upstanding citizen and military officer. But she was human and spending the night in a motel room on the beach sounded much better than spending the night in jail, wondering who would reach her first, attorney or assassin.

“Disappearing is what I do best,” he said with a groan as she drove on. “If you turn yourself in, Hackett will know exactly where to find you.”

Hearing him echo her thoughts didn’t help. She’d reached the point where doing the right thing would likely be the last thing she did. Hackett’s reach was long and invasive. Her search history. The cemetery. The airport. The police who’d chased the rental car. The driver who’d been so sure she’d talk.

Drew was right. Her odds of survival were better with the ghost in the passenger seat.

She hit the turn signal and pulled to a stop in front of the next beach store. “Wait for me here,” she said as he pushed open the car door.

“That’s a mistake.” He reached over and patted her knee. “Better cover for you if we’re together.”

“I’ll manage,” she said, watching him fiddle with the glove box. “What are you doing?”

He popped apart the plastic layers and removed a thin envelope tucked inside. “You can use cash, but assuming they’ve already broadcast your picture, even cash is a risk. You’ll be invisible if you take me. And use this.” He handed her a credit card.

She read the name and shook her head. “Julie A. Ketterly?” She flipped it over, saw it was signed. “What if they ask for ID?”

“See.” He held out a driver’s license and credit card that matched the Thomas Ketterly car registration information. “That’s why it’s better if I come along as an adoring husband spoiling his wife.”

“Fine.” Laura rolled her eyes, but she knew he’d presented a valid argument.

“Going in together means you have to pretend you like me.”

“Fine.”

“All right.” He rubbed his palms together. “The Ketterlys are playing hooky from work in Charlotte this weekend and—”

“That’s plenty.” She didn’t need a full backstory for a five-minute shopping spree. “We’re not heading into interrogation.”

He looked her up and down. “Pull your hair down, toss the jacket into the back seat, and pop open the next button on your blouse. From this point on you’re Mrs. Ketterly, eager to get to the beach and cut loose for a few days.”

She didn’t waste her breath arguing names or pointing out that she would’ve made similar alterations to her appearance without his instructions. “Give me my gun,” she said when she’d taken care of the other details. She wouldn’t be a defenseless Mrs. Ketterly. “You have the knife,” she added when he hesitated.

With a nod, he handed her the small revolver. She ignored the discomfort as she returned it to the holster. “All right, honey, I’m ready,” she said with a sweetness that made her teeth ache.

He grinned. “Glad to hear it, darling. Five minutes to fresh ocean breezes.”

At the front of the car, he slid his arm around her waist, much as he’d done at the truck stop. It felt like a spike driving into her ankle with every step and she appreciated the support as much as his dedication to their disguise.

A quick circuit of the store and they were set for an impromptu weekend with swimsuits, beach towels, oversized sunglasses, casual wear, and the requisite sunscreen and aloe vera. She smiled at the right points, chiming in as needed when he charmed the clerk at the register with happy and forgettable chatter. If the young woman remembered them as anything but a blurry pair of standard tourists they deserved to be caught, by Hackett or anyone else.

“I’ll drive from here,” he announced, his arm around her once more as they returned to the car.

“You already decided where we’re staying?” she asked, gifting him with her brightest smile.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out, darling.” Drew tossed the bags into the back seat and pulled her in for a quick kiss before taking the key.

The move surprised her and, to her great annoyance, left her lips tingling.

Chapter 6

Haleswood

Ross sat with Sheriff Cochran at one of the sidewalk tables in front of the Midnight Rooster. The sheriff’s new wife was test driving a new scone recipe on them. Ross considered this one of the perks of being connected by work and marriage to one of the best cooks in the south.

“Tough work,” he said with a wink.

The sheriff eyed his plate as though the warm treat might bite back. “I suppose if she’s serving it here, it’s a good sign.”

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