Page 32 of Fear of Flames
She shook her head. “I forgot to release the safety.” She exhaled. “I write stories. It’s not exactly high-tech espionage.”
He lowered his chin, his hooded dark eyes staring at her. “Your last book, Broken Promises…”
Michelle’s mind filled with the crime thriller about the abduction of two teenage girls from the same small town. She’d loosely based the storyline off a cold case in Wisconsin. She’d read the news stories and listened to podcasts. Her editors helped to make sure the story was fictional, avoiding any legal questions. Nevertheless, most stories have some basis in fact. She blinked. “You read Broken Promises?”
Fletch nodded. “Where did you get the idea for the storyline?”
She told him what she’d done, the research and the work to fictionalize what started as real. The ending was fiction because the actual case in Wisconsin was still unsolved.
“You didn’t get any of the ideas from your parents?”
Her forehead furrowed. “No. Why would I?” Her volume increased. “How could I?”
“Did your mom leave behind notes or journals?”
The sedan again vibrated with the force of another passing semitruck.
“No.” Shelly shook her head. “Our house…like Dad’s…fire. There was nothing left.”
What had Fletch said?
The ultimate eraser.
The last sign she’d read said there was only one more exit before Illinois. “Isn’t transporting someone over state lines a crime?”
Fletch scoffed. “Blowing up a house in a residential neighborhood is illegal. Placing surveillance equipment in your house without your knowledge was illegal. I have a long list of questionable actions that could be considered outside the scope of the law. As for transporting across state lines, it’s only illegal if I’m taking you without your consent.” He quirked a brow. “Do I have your consent?”
She shrugged. “It didn’t seem like I had a choice.” When he didn’t respond, she answered, “Yes.”
“Now, if you were underage and I was transporting you with the intention of sex, it could be illegal.”
“Could? It would be.”
“Really?” he asked. “It happens every day, and if there’s enough money, it gets covered up.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Fletch looked her way as his lips curled. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”
Was he transporting me for sex?
The question was on the tip of Michelle’s tongue when the red and blue lights of a state police car appeared behind them. The squeal of the siren caused Michelle to stiffen.
As Fletch slowed and pulled the car over to the shoulder, he said, “Let me do the talking. If they ask your name, it’s Mindy. You’re my sister. I’m Jason. Jason Martin.”
Sister?
Jason Martin?
“Say you agree,” he growled.
Michelle nodded as her pulse kicked into overdrive. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d been wrong to trust this man.
Was anything real?
Fletch nonchalantly removed his gun from the waistband of his jeans and placed it under the seat before lowering his window. They both squinted their eyes in the beam of the trooper’s flashlight.
“Can I see your license and registration?” the policeman asked.
