by Jill Cooper
If they were having an affair, why would he want her dead? And why frame my father? Is it possible I remembered wrong? Maybe Jax didn’t try to kill her after all. Maybe I’m trying to piece together something that makes sense for my desires, something simple, cut and dry. I have no idea what is real or imagined anymore.
“Did this come out in the trial?” I ask.
Rick nods. “You don’t remember?”
I glare at him.
“Right, sorry. It came out your mother had an affair. They said your dad hired a private investigator to follow her and take photos to prove it.”
That can’t be right. Dad wouldn’t have done that. My stomach sinks like a rock.
Rick sits down at his computer and boots it up. Is this the right time for him to check his email?
“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to get the edge off of my voice.
“Looking up the court transcripts.”
“You can do that?”
“They’re all public record.”
I listen to Rick’s typing and close my eyes, allowing my mind to drift away. Rick breaks the silence, chattering excitedly. “Got it. I thought I remembered my parents talking about this. Your dad claimed he never paid for a private investigator, but a money trail convinced them that money went from your dad to the P.I. Your dad exploded in court and said he was being setup, that Rewind and Jax wanted him out of the way. But there was never any proof he was right. Fifteen minutes later he was held in contempt.”
“Everyone thought he was lying,” I say, void of emotion. I cross my arms.
“Yeah.” He turns to face me, his eyes searching mine. “You’re sure he’s innocent? Really sure? Because it looks like …”
“I know what it looks like,” I say, hoarse. I take a deep breath, my chest trembling. I think about the pictures I’ve seen against the backdrop of what I know of a man who loved me so completely he worked three jobs, never took a vacation, and never complained other than to say he wanted to spend more time with me.
I threw everything I had away without a second thought. I have no choice but to say, “Absolutely. You or some lame internet document can’t change my mind.”
“Okay, okay.” he says, puffing out his chest. “I get it, Lara. I do. Just … had to make sure.”
“Can you find out more about the financial documents they are talking about?”
Another piece clicks in my brain.
I recall my last flashback, the one when I first snooped inside Jax’s office and found the files. I remember making sure to find and print the financial documents.
Dumping the rest of the papers on the floor, I fan them out, thumbing through them all. Finally, I see a computer printout and hold it up. It seems I highlighted an entry.
From ten years ago.
It shows money from Rewind’s account being transferred to a private bank. According to my notes in the margin, the account number was linked to an offshore account. My writing is frenzied, sporadic, and I can tell I was excited, but how did I link that account number to my dad?
Maybe I don't need the answer. Maybe the police can do it for me. It's time to bundle up the documents and take them there. But what about Molly?
If I can make a copy, maybe I can do both—give a copy to the kidnapper and the originals to the police? I need to get to a copy machine fast. Plus, there is still the little issue of the flash drive in my pocket.
Argh. I need to get Molly and her locket, but how am I going to keep the flash drive away from the kidnappers? How?
Of course, however I do this, I’ll most likely be exposed, but at least my dad will be able to appeal his conviction. Hopefully, Molly will be released, and those guys who were on my trail and wanted me dead, with any luck, will go away once I’m under police protection. No matter what happens to me, at least the truth will be known and everything will be set right; at least as right as I can make it. I put everything back into my bag and swing it over my shoulder.
“Rick …”
He holds his hands up. “Don’t say anything. Let’s get you where you need to go.”
Before we can get down the hall, the doorbell rings, followed by door-rattling knocking. Rick’s parents’ bedroom lights up down the hall. He shoves me into the linen closet and follows suit, closing it shut behind us. In the tight space, my back pushes up against a shelf that smells like vanilla lavender, while my front is dangerously close to Rick. The scent of his aftershave makes me want to touch him even worse. We are so close I can practically feel his heartbeat and I can definitely see a vein throbbing in his neck.
In the hall, footsteps rush toward the front door and whomever is pounding on it.
“You have any damn idea what time it is?” says the gruff, recently awoken voice of Rick’s father. I picture the burly man with his arms crossed.
“Looking for Lara Crane Montgomery. Is she here?”
I recognize the voice from the YMCA. How did they track me down? My heart leaps wildly, wedged in my throat, and I can’t swallow as the ringing in my ears intensifies. I shake my head at Rick, begging him to stay quiet.
“Lara? Lara moved away from here a long time ago. Rick hasn’t been friends with her in years.”
“We have reason to believe she’s been in contact with him. If we could take a look around—”
“You’ll do no such damn thing. I don’t see no badges or warrants, and unless you’re the police, you have no right to come in here or be looking for that girl.”
“We need to return her to the hospital. She’s a sick girl.”
My eyes squeeze shut. Part of me still can’t accept this, can’t believe it. A tremor starts to form in my arms, but Rick quells it by squeezing my hands in his. I see compassion and fear in his eyes. Neither of us is sure what’s about to happen .
“I saw the horrible stuff going on with her sister on the news. Still doesn’t change the fact we haven’t seen her in years, and you’re not getting in this house. Now, before I call the cops—”
“We’re leaving.”
The man huffs, and not a second later, the door slams shut, rattling the knocker and echoing vibrations through the apartment. Inside me though, the vibration can’t be quelled. Waves of relief flow through me, and I take a deep, calming breath.
Rick too relaxes his shoulders, but his hands still hold mine. We wait to hear that his dad has gone back to bed, and then we sneak out of the closet and race as quiet as mice back to his bedroom.
While he quietly latches the door and dims the lights, I glance outside and see some men loitering near a van. A glowing cigarette ember drifts into one of their hands. With the use of some old bird-watching binoculars, I can see they are all dressed in black, wearing fine watches, and have tattoos on their hands, except for one guy who also has one on the back of his neck. He’s tall, bald, and bears a striking resemblance to Mr. Clean.
These men look tough. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much fear. I have no idea how I’m going to get out without being seen.
Their tattoos seem familiar. I try to think where I might have seen them before, but the deeper I think, the more my headache intensifies. I realize I don’t remember, but Lara—the old one I am slowly merging into, does.
I slide down on the floor beneath the window to try to relax, to let the image come, but Rick kneels before me.
“Lar? You okay?” He strokes my hair back. Is he finally going to kiss me? Maybe he realizes we’re meant to be together. “Your eyes are going bloodshot. Lara? Can you hear me?”
My jaw presses firmly together, and as his strong, warm hands grip the sides of my face, the image zooms into view with a pop.
****
I’m standing at the front door of my house holding a ladle. I’m wearing a small apron covering my midriff, and I have one hand on the doorframe. On the other side of the threshold are four men, all in black suits, all with matching tattoos. They scare me, but I put on a brave face and pretend otherwise.
“Can I he
lp you?” I try to keep my voice balanced.
One of them steps forward, bald with a gleaming head and wearing dark shades. He clasps his hands in front of each other, revealing a gold ring with a diamond, but he doesn’t seem the marrying type.
“Are your parents home?”
“Not yet,” I say coolly. “But I have friends over, so I need to go.”
“Don’t have time to play twenty questions, is that it?” The man smirks. Maybe he knows he’s making me uncomfortable.
“That’s right. I’m making dinner for the kids, so if you don’t mind …” He catches the door in the palm of his thick hand.
“Tell Jax we stopped by, would you?” His smile reveals a fake gold tooth as I close the door and latch it.
My limbs are shaking, and I lean against the door, able to feel someone move beside me. Donovan puts his hand on my shoulder. His eyes are worried as I stare up into them.
“It was him,” I say grimly, and Donovan takes me readily into his arms.
I feel safe, safer than I have in months as I wrap my arms around him and cry into his shoulder. He strokes my hair and kisses my cheek.
“Prom better hurry up and get here,” he says. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
I nod. I’ve never been so sure in all my life. First, I get the proof, and then I travel back to the day my dad was framed.
And expose them all.
Chapter Twenty
Prom.
I’m a fool.
Donovan and Lara were using it as a cover to go back in time. One of them was going to use their parents’ credentials to sneak in and use the time travel equipment. Once Lara knew everything she needed, she would stop her father from being framed and expose the future Senator, Jax, and Rewind. She was going to blow the lid off them all and use their own technology to do it. What a brilliant girl.
But did Donovan know? I suspect not if he was acting so blasé about it. I need to keep it that way. If he was going to be my ally, he couldn’t know what his mom had done.
The love I felt in Donovan’s arms stays with me as Rick’s face comes into view. His face, the one I love, is confused with my feelings for Donovan. It was a small but powerful vision, and I can understand now, if we were planning this giant event behind everyone’s back, why he's been so angry with my behavior. I pretty much destroyed this guy’s life with a single, selfish act. Everything I did up until Molly went missing was selfish. I stole my mom back from time, and now time wants retribution, starting with my brain.
Rick licks his lips, waiting for me to speak. “What’d you see?”
“Donovan. He … knows these guys. I think he can help me.”
I fish the phone out of my duffle bag. Donovan’s number is the only one on speed dial. He must be the one who gave it to me, so we could contact each other without being tracked.
It only takes half a ring for Donovan to answer. “Thank God. I’ve been waiting for you to call. And then when I saw the news…”
“I’m at Rick’s. I have the papers.” My eyes stay on Rick, watching for an expression.
“Rick’s?” There’s no denying the anger in his voice.
“I didn’t want anyone to find me. Nothing happened.”
"Jesus, Lara—”
“I know.” I check to see the van still parked out front. Bad news. “The men are here. I need to find a way out.”
He exhales again. “Okay, okay. Let me think … If there’s a back exit, use it in twenty. Give me some time to get there. How far is the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts?”
“There’s one on every corner. There’s one on Lincoln.”
“Perfect, meet me there. At this time of night, where there’s donuts, there will be cops. As a safety precaution.”
“So what? You think they’re going to try to snatch me or something?”
“If they’re following you—tracking you—that’s exactly what they’re going to do. Leave Rick there. We don’t need any additional baggage.”
I realize he’s right, and I nod before ending the call. As Rick draws the curtains shut, I stand, ready to say goodbye. It could be for forever, but I don’t want to say that. “Till next time,” I say with a small smile and extend my hand.
Rick stares at it like it’s an insult and hugs me instead. “Be careful.”
His voice is filled with darkness. I think he knows how dangerous it is, and he doesn’t ask to come. It's odd because my Rick would do anything for me, but this one, he’s not in love with me. He might sense our attraction, but it’s not the real deal. That notion tastes like bitter coffee.
I feel his arms tighten around me. I rest my head on his shoulder, in my mind saying goodbye to him for good, but when I open my eyes I see under his bed.
An open duffle bag, overflowing with money.
I push away. Suddenly, everything in me is saying I need to get away. It’s not safe.
“I’ll see myself out.” His hand clamps my shoulder.
“Nonsense. I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”
When I look into his face, I know there’s no wiggle room. He’s angry and will never let me go without a fight. We sneak out of the apartment, and he gently closes the door behind us. I gawk at him as he takes the duffle bag from me and we start walking down the cramped hallway.
“I can carry that myself,” I say, reaching for the handle. I pull the hoodie over my head as we pass by several kids idling in the halls, an old radio pumping out tunes. “What are you doing, Rick?”
“Making sure you get out safe.” He grips my arm much too tight.
“You’re hurting me.”
I grit my teeth and yank, but he won’t let me go. His face has gone icy cold and his features drawn flat. I can read nothing in him.
Was everything at my house, the mall a lie?
He pulls me down the stairs towards the men from the van, who are coming to meet us. I throw a glance over my shoulder and see the kids from the hall also coming toward us. One is holding a crow bar. The other a gun. Fear builds. It’s all I can feel.
“You set me up. For what? Money!?”
As the backdoor crashes open, Rick wraps his arms around my torso and squeezes hard. I gasp for air and kick my legs as he lifts me.
“Money might not be anything to you. You’ve had it most of your life. But to me? It can change everything for me and my family. Everything!”
Did he ever believe me about the time travel? I can’t be sure, but it’s clear he is not the Rick I knew. The Rick I was in love with, who would never do anything like this. Never.
I try to use my legs to catch the door frames, but the men grab them. I lean my head to the side to scream, but a cloth is pressed to it. I try to suck in air, but a harsh chemical odor stings my senses. I start coughing as I’m thrown into the back. The door is latched before I can get to my knees. Someone smacks the roof, and the van takes off like a rocket, knocking me down.
The vibration rocks my butt. Everything in the back of the van begins to double. I see two blankets instead of one. I have four hands instead of two.
Not only did those bastards drug me, but Rick helped them.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’m gone, lost in a memory as vivid as a dream. Back at my house, in the living room, I sit on the sofa beside Donovan. I’m wearing a fancy yet understated dress, and his arm is draped across my shoulder. Pink streamers decorate the living room, and a few stray balloons are hung by the fireplace. Sitting to our left and right are Donovan’s parents, Joseph and Patricia James, and to my left is Jax.
I watch him as he leans forward and scoops some crackers from the coffee table. I’m barely able to force a smile as our eyes meet. His hold a question he wouldn’t dare ask when his boss is around.
“Can I get you another drink, Joe? Senator?” Jax asks.
Patricia holds up her hand with a smile. “Please, call me Pat while I’m out of Washington. And no, I’m fine. Being in your fine home again is enough.”
“To the bi
rthday girl, eh?” Joseph says and raises his half-empty glass.
I nod my thanks and accept the fruit punch offered by Mom before she bustles back into the kitchen. I can smell that the roast beef is almost done—my favorite.
“I’m glad you could come,” Joseph continues. “Don always has high praises for both of you.”
“What can I say? I’m a chip off the old block, right Dad?”
I can’t help but laugh. He always makes things better. His dimples are cute, and I wish we could be alone. When I look back at his parents, they are smiling at me.
My eyes settle on Patricia, whose eyes flash something other than happiness at me. I force a smile and pretend everything is all right.
“Oh, look at them, Joe,” she gushes, patting her husband’s knee. “A perfect couple. I’m sorry we haven’t done this before. You know, Washington is a slave driver.”
“I bet,” I say, sipping my punch.
Jax gestures at Joseph. “So is this man. The guy has been my boss for years, and he still surprises me with the workload.”
Joseph crosses his arms and chuckles. “You get to leave early every night to take care of your family. I don’t see what you have to complain about. Your wife on the other hand …”
The doorbell rings, and Jax excuses himself to answer it. I’m curious; no one else was invited tonight. I follow him out to the hall where Mom meets me. She’s wiping her hands on her apron.
“Who is it, Jax?” Mom asks. Jax blocks the door and whispers to someone. “Who is it, Dad?” I ask louder.
He turns around, wiping the corner of his lips. His cheeks are beet red and sweat clings to his brow. I’ve never seen him so nervous about anything.
“My brother Rex is in from London, it would seem, and has dropped by.”
“Brother?” I have never heard of a brother before.
Mom smiles and extends her hand as Rex enters. He’s tall, the spitting image of Jax except for his black hair and brown eyes. I don’t bat an eye at his showing up, but my future self knows different.
