And as she melted into the crowd, eager for another beer to drown what she couldn’t deal with, she cast one last glance Tommy’s way but he was gone.
THOMAS ROSE EARLY, ROLLING from his bed before the sun crested the horizon, and was showered and dressed just as the first rays started caressing the frozen landscape.
By 8:00 a.m. he was packed and ready to leave. The lack of restful sleep—the bed had more lumps than poorly cooked Cream of Wheat—left his eyes gritty and stinging in the face of the harsh morning light, but he was too focused on finding the answers he sought to worry about anything else.
He had to find Cassi and he held little hope that he’d be able to find her without some assistance.
First, he dialed the bus station where he’d lost her. He knew she wouldn’t use her real name but perhaps she’d used the identity she’d been using in New York.
The gravelly voice of a ticket agent who wasn’t a fan of mornings picked up the line. He identified himself and he could’ve sworn he could hear the agent’s disinterest over the phone.
“I’m looking for information on a ticket purchased by a suspect possibly going by the name Trinity Moon. Do you have anything in your database with that name?”
There was a short pause and the clack of the woman’s nails on the keyboard, then, “No.”
“How about Cassi Nolan?” he tried.
Another pause, followed by a bored, “No.”
“Try Cassandra Nolan.”
“Are we going to do this all day? I’ve got a line growing,” she complained.
“We could. Or I could chat with your supervisor about your customer service skills and if that doesn’t faze you, how about I just have you brought in for obstruction of justice?”
She grumbled but snapped, “What’s the other name?”
He thought a minute. What name would Cassi use that wouldn’t be an easy connection? Something only someone close to her might guess…. His mind picked over and skimmed ideas but nothing hit him right away. He was almost ready to give up when his thoughts took a different route. “Try Amy Anderson,” he suggested, hoping the hunch panned out.
“What do you know, there is an Amy Anderson ticket purchased two months ago and used last night. Is that all?”
“Destination?”
“Newark, New Jersey.”
He smiled. “Thanks for your help.”
“Sure.” The withering response came as he hung up. Nothing like a New York public servant to brighten an early morning.
Why Newark? No matter. He had her secret name. This was likely the name she used as a blank slate before she created her next identity. He didn’t know why he didn’t think of it before. Now he could track her as easily as following a light in the dark.
CHAPTER SIX
MAMA JO’S MIND WAS FULL of odds and ends—which in itself wasn’t unusual—but there was something lurking at the edge of her thoughts that made her want to do a double check over her shoulder for shadows.
She adjusted the shawl over her thin shoulders and surveyed her hands with the critical eye of someone who’d seen a lot and done even more. She was getting old. Even if her mind was still sharp, her body was giving little signals and signs that she was no longer twenty-five.
She ambled outside, shivering as the winter air invaded her bones, and made quick work of grabbing an armful of wood to bring back inside.
Was it so long ago that her foster boys once ran amok in the little farmhouse? Was it even longer that her own boy died? The breath hitched in her chest for a painful moment and she waited for it to pass. Ah, Cordry, she thought on a sigh. Would he have grown to be a better man than he had been as a misled teen? Only God knew for sure. She tried not to dwell on the past but there were ghosts in the house it seemed.
She remembered his smile, fleeting though it was, and his love for strawberry pancakes. The rest of the details of his thirteen-year-old life were fading from her memory, slipping into a fuzzy void that sucked up the moments that gave her pain. And that’s how it should be, she realized. There was little that could be done to change the past. She knew that better than anyone and she tried to pass that on to her foster boys; Lord knew they needed to hold that lesson to their hearts. Bless them, each had been given a rough row to hoe.
A knock at the door interrupted her musings and revealed a man she’d never seen and would’ve figured for a salesman if not for his fine clothes and fancy wheels parked out front. Still, she had no desire for company at the moment so she attempted to shoo him along.
“Sorry, son, you’re barking up the wrong tree here. Ain’t nothing in the cookie jar but a few crumbs these days,” she said, moving to close the door. He stopped her with an apologetic expression.
“Excuse me, Ms. Bell, for intruding on this fine winter day but I obtained information that you once knew my daughter,” he said as his mouth tipped in a disarming smile that Mama Jo didn’t trust one bit. She narrowed her stare at him, and he hastened to add, “I’m Lionel Vissher. My daughter is Cassandra Nolan.”
“You mean your stepdaughter, don’t you, because I remember her father and you ain’t him.”
His mouth turned down. “Yes, of course. Stepdaughter. Do you by any chance know where she is? I heard at one time she used to be very close to your foster son and spent a lot of time here in your house.”
The way he said it made her feel as if she’d transgressed for allowing a young girl to find solace and companionship at her hearth. She tightened her shawl around her shoulders but didn’t invite the man in. She’d rather stand there and shiver to death than give this Lionel character any comfort. Mama Jo found him distasteful and didn’t mind letting it show in her expression. She didn’t know where Cassi was but even if she did, she doubted she’d share that information with this man. His eyes were flinty and cold even if he was going out of his way to appear harmless. “It’s been a long time since Cassi Nolan spent any time in this house,” she said, leaving it at that.
And a pity, too. She cared for that girl and hoped she came to her senses sooner rather than later, but Thomas hadn’t mentioned her name once since their big blowup all those years ago in college. Mama Jo had hoped—well, shoot, if you twisted her arm she’d admit she’d prayed—that those two were going to tie the knot someday. Alas, she thought on a private sigh, it hadn’t worked out that way.
“Yes, well, she hasn’t been home in a long time, either,” he admitted. “I just worry. I’d like to know she’s all right. You know, I’m her only family since her mother’s passing two years ago. I’d feel better if I at least knew where she was, even if she didn’t want to come home. Surely, as a mother, you understand my feelings.” She grunted something in agreement and he took that as a positive sign and handed her a business card. “If she contacts you…please let me know. I would be most appreciative, Ms. Bell. Perhaps,” he said slyly as he walked away. “I could even make it worth your while.”
’Coon poop, that’s what he was. She recognized a bribe when she saw it. She watched as he climbed into that ridiculous-looking fancy car that was ill-suited for her country road and when he’d disappeared, she went inside and ripped the card to pieces before tossing it into the fire along with a fresh log. If he wanted to find Cassi, he could do it himself. She wasn’t about to tattle on the girl. If she wanted to come home, she would.
Mama Jo settled in her favorite chair to warm her frozen bones and her thoughts wandered to Thomas. A smile followed. The strong, silent one with the biggest heart—a heart that had only ever belonged to one person…and that girl had been too silly to notice.
Well, maybe that would change. She could only hope. An all-over fatigue wore her out, and she closed her eyes. Seemed the need to nap came more and more when before she’d managed on a handful of hours. Growing boys had needed constant supervision. A few minutes of shut-eye sounded just the thing…and then she’d make some chili, because nothing tasted better on a cold day than hot chili.
CASSI LOCKED HER MOTEL
room door, the sharp smell of hair dye still fresh in her nose, and set out for the public library. She was short on funds; and she needed access to a computer. The public library—particularly those of big cities—offered free internet access as well as a convenient place to spend a few hours crafting a new identity. If anyone asked, she could easily pull off the lit grad student excuse, always taking care to have a few classics in her book pile.
She hailed a taxi and stared out the window, glancing at the skyline with a sigh. A storm broiled, kicking up dark ominous clouds that promised snow before the end of the day, and she shivered against the chill coming from the finger-smudged glass. She hadn’t planned to use that bus ticket to Newark until the spring. “Damn you, Tommy,” she muttered before closing her eyes.
The details of downtown Newark were lost on her, but she wasn’t there to sightsee anyway. For the past two years she’d appreciated little of the places she’d traveled. It wasn’t until about six months ago that she’d finally stumbled across a piece of information that was truly useful in her search. There were days she’d lost hope of finding anything. She supposed she had Isaac to thank for the discovery.
Poor Isaac. She felt more than a twinge of guilt for the part she played in his inevitable heartbreak. She shifted in her seat, her mouth tightening at the contempt she’d heard in Tommy’s voice at her deception of Isaac. He didn’t have all the facts. How dare he judge her? She’d broken no law with Isaac but she had used him for information. Her cheeks burned at the private admission. She’d tried to warn him—in her own way. She’d never actually said, Isaac, don’t fall in love with me because I’m only using you for your connections, but she had told him that she wasn’t the marrying type. Perhaps she should’ve found another way. Another sigh escaped her and she tightened her grip on her pack. There’d been no other way. But when things were returned to normal she swore to apologize to Isaac, to explain. Just as she would explain to everyone she’d crossed paths with under a false identity. And yes, she knew there were many who deserved a profuse apology at the least.
But that wasn’t today.
Cassi paid the taxi driver and ascended the stairs of the three-story building. It stood sentinel on the street, imposing its shadow and wearing its age like a distinguished gentleman. It was a shame she wasn’t here to admire the architecture.
Perhaps one of these days…
THOMAS FOUND THE MOTEL EASILY. The greasy clerk—a man who looked as if he wouldn’t bat an eye at renting out a room by the hour—gave up the room key the minute Thomas flashed the badge. Not that he expected anything to the contrary. He found most people who didn’t want too much attention on themselves were more than happy to direct that attention elsewhere.
“I run a legitimate business here,” the clerk called out, the higher pitch of his tone betraying his nerves. “I ain’t harboring no fugitives. That’s a fact.”
“Thanks for your help,” Thomas said in a low growl. Then added, “If I find you tipped her off in any way, I’ll see that this place is crawling with feds before you can get out of town. If there’s even a hair out of place on your record, I’ll ream you for it.”
The clerk gulped and made a gesture of zipping his lips.
“That’s what I thought.”
Thomas let himself into the room and locked it again behind him. He did a quick search to ensure she wasn’t there and when he was satisfied he was quite alone in the cramped, unattractive, and only marginally clean room, he took a seat and prepared to wait.
IT WAS DARK AND BITTER COLD by the time she returned to the motel. The chocolate-brown woolen scarf wound around her neck did little to stop the cold from seeping into her bones. Her fingers were nearly numb—the thin gloves weren’t sufficient for the kind of windchill cutting around the buildings—and all she could focus on was getting the key in the lock and escaping the freezing snow that was about to fall any minute.
She closed the door behind her and flexed her frozen fingers as she tossed the key to the small table barely illuminated by the glow peeping around the closed drapes and fumbled with the light switch. Weak, watery light bathed the room and she turned, nearly swallowing her tongue at the sight of Tommy sitting on her bed, his gun pointing straight at her heart. Aunt Jemima pancakes! She startled and flattened herself against the door, her hand instinctively going for the knob, but at Tommy’s hardened stare she didn’t even try to turn it and slowly dropped her hand.
“I give you props for ingenuity but demerits for dumping my car and making me file a stolen vehicle report. Nice color, by the way,” he said, referencing her new brunette style. “What? Did you get tired of blond jokes?”
“Who doesn’t get tired of those,” she countered, her mind working so fast her thoughts were beginning to blur. “I thought a change was in order.”
“Especially since your face and physical characteristics were going to be plastered on every precinct wall on the eastern seaboard.”
She offered him a small smile. “Well, there was that. Sorry about the car. I couldn’t very well hang on to it. All government vehicles are equipped with GPS tracking devices,” she managed to retort with a modicum of calm that she certainly didn’t feel. Tommy was pointing a gun at her. And judging by the mean-eyed, cold stare he was giving her…he just might pull the trigger. “How did you find me?” she asked.
“Given your propensity for slipping out of my custody I think I’ll keep that information to myself just in case it happens again.”
She worried her bottom lip as she ran through her own checklist of possibilities. Then, she thought of the name she used to register the room, and when she swore under her breath he knew she’d figured it out.
He smirked. “Amy Anderson. A. A. I always thought it was a little weird that you used your mom’s Alcoholics Anonymous code name as your fake identity when we were kids.”
She glowered. Her mom hadn’t been able to admit she was an alcoholic so she’d invented the fictitious Amy Anderson as the friend she’d visit each week when she’d attend her meetings. It was perverse and it was private. She hated that Tommy remembered such a small detail about her life. She lifted her chin. “Yeah? So?”
He chuckled, but the sound didn’t have anything in common with laughter. He waved the gun at her. “Take a seat. We need to chat.”
Should she run? No. It was now snowing outside. She had no transportation, sparse funds, and he clearly had the upper hand. She cautiously lowered herself to the chair beside the table and took a moment to assess the situation.
“Toss me that key, would you?” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand. She did as he asked. He caught it with a twist of his wrist, the hand holding the gun never wavering from its target. “Now, about that chat,” he began, and she started to tell him that he needn’t bother, but he wasn’t about to let her get a word in. He shushed her with an expletive and a scowl that sent electricity arcing down to her toes. She’d never seen Tommy so angry, so bristling with a dark energy that alternately pulled and repelled. He’d always been the calm one, the guy who could always mellow the storm. Now he was creating one. Her breathing quickened along with her blood. She curled her fingers into fists, digging her nails into her palm to clear her mind. She withheld the wince but the pain served its purpose. “Let’s start from the beginning,” he instructed.
“Why?” she asked, stalling. “You aren’t interested in my side of the story.”
He ignored that and moved on as if she hadn’t spoken. “At first I was pretty sure you were like every other felon, lying to further your own gain, but you were damn desperate to get to that book I suspect you’ve got in your pack. So that made me wonder, what’s in the book that you’re willing to go back to New York to fetch, knowing that would be the first place I’d go looking for you. So, against my better judgment, I started doing a little extra work. I looked into your file. I went deeper.” He paused and she held her breath, not daring to believe. “And I found some irregularities.”
“Such a
s?” she asked, watching him intently. Was it too much to hope that he’d seen enough to question her guilt? Was it enough to gain an ally? Someone she could trust? The hope alone was cruel. “Perhaps we could trade notes. I’ve found irregularities myself. But maybe you could lower the gun? I have an aversion to guns being pointed at my heart.”
“That depends. I already know I can’t trust you so what assurances do I have that you’re not going to bolt the minute I do?”
“You don’t. You’ve already stated that you can’t trust me and given my track record that’s a fairly accurate assessment. But trust is a leap of faith. So, the question is, do you take that leap or continue to hold on to what you know has happened before?”
“Yes, that is the question,” he agreed softly, his eyes never leaving hers. After a long moment, he blew a short breath and finally lowered the gun. “Fine,” he said, placing the gun with deliberate caution on the nightstand. “But don’t try anything, Cassi. You’ve used up all your credit with me.”
The Past Between Us Page 6
