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I forced myself to unclench my hands and wiped my palms on my thighs. I counted to ten to calm myself down and reread the email. She called me Margaret, so she still doesn’t know I changed my name. She said he’s home. Does that mean they’re back together? Whatever, it doesn’t matter; they deserve each other. I can’t believe she said they want us to be a family again. She has got to be kidding me. We’ll never be a family.

We never were. I felt tears well up for what never was.

I contemplated deleting the email, so I’d never have to see it again, but something in the back of my mind said I should keep it. I created a new folder with my mom’s name, Debbie, and saved it there. Out of sight, but not gone.

There were four more emails from her. I hated how every once in a while she’d get a bug up her ass and start emailing me. It was always the same; she’d say she missed me and wanted me to come home. Usually, she’d give up after sending two or three emails, then forget about me again. And I’d be left with sleepless nights and the memories of a past I wanted to forget.

The oldest was three weeks old and didn’t mention my father. Neither did the next two. The second most recent email, sent six days ago, was the first to mention him and it was only a couple of short, badly written sentences. Basically, he knocked on her door and begged her to take him back, and she did. At least now I know why she didn’t give up as quickly this time. An icy chill swept over my body. I didn’t want to think about why he wanted me to go back.

I moved all her messages to the Debbie folder without replying. I had no desire to reconnect with my parents. The thought made me want to vomit.If I never see them again, it’ll be too soon.

There was nothing in any of the emails to make me think they were actively looking for me. My mother’s declarations were hollow words. After logging out of my email, I searched for news on Patrick Sullivan in Boston. I’d been checking the news more frequently since learning he’d been granted parole. I was terrified he’d come seeking revenge when he got out of jail. My search yielded a few new articles covering his release, but nothing else. My stomach turned, and I swallowed down bile as I stared at the old picture of him. He was waving to the news reporters, a smug smile on his fat face, as he walked into the courthouse. Sullivan had been confident he wouldn’t get convicted. He hadn’t planned on the key witness sealing his fate.

I puffed out a long sigh of relief. Sullivan was required to wear an ankle monitor as a condition of his parole, which meant he couldn’t leave Massachusetts. Or come to Texas.

I closed the browser and restarted the computer. I always restarted the computers I used, so I didn’t accidentally leave an account open.

My nerves got the best of me on the drive home.An ankle monitor is all that stands between me and Sullivan. A vicious crime boss who wouldn’t think twice about making me suffer until I begged for death.I couldn’t let my guard down, not for one single second.

Chapter 12

Jack

Iwent to the hotel bar Friday night after seeing my client safely in her room. My assignment would be complete once she boarded her plane home tomorrow morning. I wanted to get home so I could talk to my dad and Jamie and hear what they’d learned about Meg while I was gone.

Jamie had done another traditional search into her history after I talked to them, but he couldn’t find anything either. Not without investigating. Despite not having any concrete evidence, we all agreed there was something bad in Meg’s past. Our guts told us she was running or hiding. We needed to find out why, and from who. I wanted to help, but they said no. They were treating this like a formal case to protect the company, and I was too close. It might have started, informally, as my ‘case’ but I wouldn’t be doing anymore research. It was the right decision, but I didn’t have to like it. I hated feeling useless.

I called Jamie during a break yesterday. He had nothing new to share. He assured me they were working on it, and reminded me to stay focused on my job.

“Yes, sir.” I replied. I hadn’t meant to sound so snarky. “Sorry Jamie, I feel so useless.”

“I understand, but you’re on assignment and that has to be your priority right now. I’ll let you know if I find anything you need to know.”

“Thanks.”

He was right. Losing focus on an assignment could get me or my charge hurt, or killed. I needed to be one hundred percent focused on the job at hand, not thinking about Meg.

That was yesterday, tonight I was sitting at the bar thinking about Meg while I waited for my food. I didn’t feel like eating another meal alone at a random bar, so I asked the bartender if they could deliver it to my room. When I got there, I turned on a baseball game. I preferred football, having played in high school, but there weren’t any football games on. It didn’t matter, the game was background noise while I ate.

I texted Meg while I waited for my chicken sandwich to be delivered.

Hey Meg. How’s your evening?

Good. I’ve got a hot date…

I ground my back teeth. I had no right to feel jealous, but my jaw didn’t get the memo.

With a good book. LOL.

My jaw relaxed.

Sounds exciting.

You still working?

Yes & no. Client is in her room so unless she calls, I’m done for the night.

You don’t have to guard her door?

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