Page 56 of Deception

They hurried outside to Olive’s newly rented Jeep and helped him into the back seat. Nova quickly climbed in beside her, and Olive took off down the road. She reminded Matt to call his boss.

He thanked her and grabbed his phone.

As soon as he finished that call, Olive asked, “What about Willow? Where is she?”

“At preschool. I have until three to pick her up.”

“Good. She’ll be taken care of.”

Olive’s mind continued to race as the miles flew past.

“Do you want us to call 911?” Nova asked.

“No, I’d rather take Rebecca in myself. She hates ambulances. We called one once, and the paramedics were in an accident while taking her to the hospital. She wasn’t injured, but she’s hated them since then.”

“Understood,” Olive said. “Has this ever happened before? The vomiting blood?”

“Not this exactly. But you name it, and Rebecca has probably gone through it. She’s the strongest woman I know, and I hate to see her suffer.” His voice cracked.

Thankfully, it only took ten minutes to reach the house.

Before Olive had even put the Jeep into Park, Matt jumped out and rushed toward the front door. He truly appeared worried.

Olive and Nova hung back a few steps, wanting to give him some space.

“You think this is legit?” Nova whispered as they stood outside.

“I have no idea.” Olive hated the doubt in her own words. But she wanted to be honest.

They exchanged another look before stepping inside.

Olive paused near the entry. In the living room, Matt knelt beside Rebecca, who was balled up on the floor.

A lump formed in Olive’s throat at the sight.

If this woman wasn’t really sick . . . then she should get an Oscar.

Matt carried Rebecca to the Jeep. She looked pale, and her hand didn’t leave her stomach.

Then they all climbed inside.

Olive rushed toward the hospital, driving as fast as she safely could. She didn’t say much—she figured they should give Rebecca some space.

But Rebecca finally lifted her head and spoke. “This . . . isn’t the same . . . Jeep you drove earlier.”

The woman was observant. Olive had to give her credit for that. This new Jeep Wrangler was steel gray instead of black.

“I was in a minor accident last night,” Olive told her. “I had to trade one rental for another.”

Rebecca’s arms remained crossed over her stomach, and she leaned forward, moisture beneath her eyes. “Is that why you’re wincing when you move?”

No, that was because I was sideswiped, hit over the head, fell through a floor.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Olive said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Olive swallowed back more guilt.

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