Page 75 of Stolen Goods
Cuffs bound his wrists.
Thad stumbled back, straining to keep his head turned, but the Feds yanked him across the grass, gruff and uncaring. He’d already slipped through once, and they had no intention of letting it happen again. This time he was taken to a patrol car and shoved headfirst toward the back seat.
He held his ground.
He turned. He spun.
He found her across the distance, still sitting on the grass, watching him, something sad in her gaze, but something else too. Thad stretched the moment to a millennium, memorizing every inch of her beautiful face as he took one last breath of fresh air. Things would be complicated for a while. Addison would have to publicly denounce him. They’d have no contact. He’d be in witness protection. She’d be under federal surveillance. There was no telling how long until they’d see each other again. He wouldn’t hold her back. If she moved on, she moved on. He’d let her go. But right now, his heart was light, released of its heavy burden. Because deep within her gaze, hope shimmered, glittering like the sun on the sea, the sort he never thought he’d feel. Hope for a future. Something to look forward to. Something to fight for. And that was enough. For now, it was everything.
- 28 -
Addison
“I still can’t believe you’re leaving,” Gracie grumbled, not an ounce of judgment or hidden innuendo in her tone, only gloom. Proof of the therapeutic power of mortal terror.
As soon as Addy had arrived home, Gracie had pushed through their parents, nearly knocking their mother over, to fling herself on her sister and murmur a tearful apology. She’d been worried Addy was dead, that she’d never see her again, that she’d wasted their last words. And she’d spent days going over what she wished she’d said instead—that she loved Addy, that she’d been jealous of her relationship with their parents for ages, resentful of how similar Addy was to their mother and how easily she spoke to their father, but she didn’t want to feel that way anymore. Addy had hugged her sister back, saying she loved her and she’d missed her, and that she’d been jealous too—of Gracie’s bravery and her fearlessness, of all her travels, of all the experiences she herself had been too afraid to have. Thinking of Thad, of his seventeen years without the sister he desperately loved, Addy told Gracie she didn’t know what she’d do without her. They made a promise right then and there, clasped tight on the front lawn, to never let anything get between them again.
Four weeks later and so far so good. They still fought occasionally—Rome wasn’t built in a day—but it was better. Gracie asked Addy about her baking and tried to understand her passion. Addy took time to listen to Gracie’s opinions and learn about her studies. She’d been amazed to discover that having a sister in law school who wanted to become a women’s rights advocate was downright handy. When the paparazzi had shown up at Addy’s doorstep, Gracie had been the one to shoo them away with threats of lawsuits and shouts of victim harassment that were later picked up by the evening news. When Addy agreed to do one interview with60 Minutes, Gracie had been the one to coach her on the proper language to use when answering questions and to grill her in preparation so she wasn’t caught off guard. When Addy quit her job and announced to her family that she would be traveling the world indefinitely, Gracie had been the first to jump in with encouragement, support, and a suggested itinerary.
Addy took a sip of wine and dropped her head to her sister’s warm shoulder as she glanced around her empty apartment. Some country music played softly in the background. The speakers were the only electronic still working. She’d unplugged her landline three weeks ago—the damn thing never stopped ringing with interview requests. The internet had been disconnected that morning in anticipation of her move. And the TV was…broken. The night her interview had aired, Addy may or may not have chucked a rolling pin at it while furiously baking sugar cookies. Every word out of her mouth had been lie after lie after lie, the ones Jo and the Feds had designed to keep her safe. At the time, she’d feared she’d never be convincing. But watching herself on television, gaunt with vacant eyes and ten pounds lighter from the stress, even she started to question the truth. Odd how heartbreak and trauma so closely mirrored each other. Now her apartment was full of nothing more than the few remaining boxes that would sit in her parents’ attic until she came home, the couch that was being moved tomorrow, an overstuffed backpack, and three opened bottles of wine—one for each girl—Addy, Grace, and Edie.
“I still can’t believe you’re leaving,” her boss and good friend moaned, taking another swig as she sank deeper into the cushions. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”
“I found you a replacement,” Addy countered, smiling. This was the third time they were having this conversation. Edie was plowed. Her twins were being watched by their grandparents, so momma was letting loose for the night. “A new bright-eyed teenager you can take under your wing. A mini-me.”
Edie sighed. “You know that job will always be yours if you want it, just say the word.”
“I know,” Addy said, taking Edie’s hand and squeezing tight. “Thank you.”
When she first came home, she hadn’t expected to quit. She’d planned to go back to life as usual. Her heart hurt less when she pretended everything was the same. That nothing had changed. That her time with Thad had been a dream. It was a naïve wish. Customers stopped wanting to come into the bakery because they were afraid it wasn’t safe when Addy was around. Edie started meeting people at a coffee shop down the street instead. A hoard of photographers stood outside every day for hours waiting to catch a glimpse of Addy as she ran in every morning and out late at night. Edie hung temporary curtains to keep them from taking pictures through the glass. Then the news vans came. Photos of the crime scene resurfaced, stolen from the local police department archives and posted in the tabloids. The name of the shop, the address, the logo—everything was plastered in the complete wrong light for a place that was supposed to celebrate the happiest days of someone’s life. A wedding. An anniversary. A birthday. Instead, it was a murder shop. Edie never would’ve fired Addy—they were like family after all they’d been through. To save the business she’d helped build from complete destruction, Addy quit. The panic attack had been real. But after the initial fear subsided, she knew what she had to do.
Go.
Leave.
Explore.
The small-town life that was once so comfortable was now a safety net she needed to cut free. Addy was a different person from the woman she’d been a few weeks before—life-or-death experiences had a way of doing that. Before she could second-guess, she’d put her apartment on the market, emptied the college fund she’d barely used, and booked a one-way flight to Europe. To get away from it all. To find herself. To just…be.
Addy sighed. “Guys, this is the most depressing going-away party ever. You’re supposed to be building me up before my grand adventure. Not, you know, begging me to stay home and wallowing in—”
Knock. Knock.
Addy jolted, heart lurching in her chest. Unexpected guests made her jumpy—a lingering side effect she hadn’t been able to shake.
A peppy voice called out, “It’s me!”
“Jo!” Addy leapt to her feet, fear switching to relief in an instant. She threw open the door. “You’re here! I didn’t think you’d make it.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Jo gushed, yanking Addy into a tight hug. With her lips close to Addy’s ear, she whispered, “I had to make a quick stop first.”
Addy froze.
Jo leaned slowly back, face twisted with an apology. That look in her eye told Addy exactly where her friend had been.
She’d been doing everything in her power not to think of Thad. Diving into planning. Reading every book on travel she could find. Researching safety tips for a woman backpacking on her own. And of course, baking like a maniac. That first week home, nothing had worked. Every time she turned around, someone was asking what had happened, if he was a monster, how she’d survived. Their story, the fake one she’d helped spread, played on the news nonstop. Addy had watched every second, scraping the bottom of the barrel for any picture of him, gasping when she saw him handcuffed being led into court. After that, she’d turned it off. She hadn’t wanted to think of him that way, so she turned to her memories instead. But that was too painful, so she’d decided it was best to not think of him at all.
As if it were so easy.
