Page 48 of Free to Run
“Jesus, Keene. I just fell asleep. Cassidy’s been a wreck all day. The idea is that we’re supposed to get sleep before we have kids,” he grumbles.
“Call my house voicemail. Password is your birthday and Cassidy’s birthday, in that order. Listen to the messages, and get someone up to scramble the tracker we have on my vehicle.”
“Huh? What the hell?” Caleb’s awake now.
I’ve already hung up.
Quickly changing into a dark T-shirt and jeans, I pull down bags and toss in clothes to last me a while. In the second bag, I toss in anything of meaning in the apartment that can’t be replaced. Pictures of my mother and me together, a box of old photos, my mother’s jewelry, a couple of laptops, and critical papers.
I also clip the holster of my Glock to the back of my pants and pull my shirt over top of it.
I ignore the constant ringing of my house phone. I’m not certain if it’s Melody or Caleb calling to try to track her.
I can’t care.
She’s obviously lost what’s left of her marbles, and I know better than to confront her alone.
Grateful the majority of my mother’s possessions are still locked in a storage unit in Connecticut, I’m lacing up my boots, just about ready to go when my phone rings again. This time, it’s my cell. Caleb.
“I’m on my way out the door,” I warn.
“You’re clear to leave driving your car. The analyst assigned your tag to one of the parked cars in the corporate garage. Right now, we can see Melody’s car parked downstairs from our office. It’s just…idling. When you pull out, a black Volvo will follow you to the city limits. It’s one of ours.” Caleb is in full operations mode. “You need to switch to a burner until we can get you on a new cell.”
“Jesus, Caleb. How did we miss this?” I’m locking my door as I make my way to the elevator. Pushing the button inside, I look up. “Do our guys have eyes in here?”
“Yes. They’re watching right now.”
I slump against the elevator. “I got your text, by the way.”
“I saw. I take it your night didn’t go as planned.”
“I fucked up.”
“On a scale of flowers to…?” Caleb inquires.
“There is no scale. I lost my temper when I couldn’t get my way and was an unmitigated douchebag.”
Caleb’s sigh expresses how close I am to being disavowed. “If I seriously didn’t think we were dealing with a chick who would tie you to a chair and break your ankles with a sledgehammer right before fucking you, I might leave you to clean up your mess—both your messes.” Caleb is pissed, an emotion he rarely shows.
“Yeah. I have no clue how to fix it,” I admit. I’m hopeless.
“Not getting caught by your stalker is a good way to start.”
As I step off the elevator, I suddenly freeze.Stalker.I have an honest-to-God stalker. “Where should I go?”
“First to your car, then you turn it on, and then you put it in drive.” Caleb’s words are as condescending as it gets.
“No, I mean once I get out of the city. Where should I drive to?”
There’s silence on the other end of the line. “You really swallowed a bunch of stupid pills at some point today, didn’t you? Get your ass here. You can’t fix shit from hundreds of miles away.”
“Caleb, I have a fucking stalker after me. I don’t want to bring that to the family,” I argue as I walk around my Audi, searching for bombs. I wouldn’t put it past Melody to plant one.
“And who else is going to have your back? In a town this size, we’ll have an advantage. Besides, you can work on removing your head from your ass while you’re here. Though that may require surgical intervention.”
“Fuck you,” I say, with a distinct lack of heat. I start my car. Good, it didn’t explode. There’s a plus for the evening.
“Don’t get caught by a psycho on your way here,” he says optimistically, right before he hangs up.
