Derek and I stared between the two uniformed men.
“What’s going on here?” Derek asked, watching as Charlie collected both my and Luke’s belongings. “I thought Bruno was taking her on the road?”
“Bruno’s on special assignment,” Charlie said, obviously in no hurry to explain himself. “She’s going with Trigger.”
“No,” Derek said, shaking his head. “I’m telling you guys, you’re going about this all wrong. She—needs—to—stay—here.”
“You seriously wanna fight me on this?” my uncle asked, taking a step toward Derek.
“No sir,” he answered, and he cowered under Charlie’s authority. “All I’m saying is that the best chance you’ll have at catching him is using Julie—”
“As bait?” Luke asked, and his nostrils flared as his chest grew taller.
“You know,” I said. “It’s really not a bad a plan.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Little,” Luke said, turning to me. “You’re not risking your life at the chance that we might catch this guy.”
“It could work,” Charlie said, agreeing with Derek, but only for a minute. The look he got from Luke said that he best rethink his last statement—and fast. “It’s too damn risky. I mean, this is Julie we’re talking about—”
“And you’re letting that fact cloud your judgment,” Derek said, not giving up his fight. “You’re too close to this case to see it impartially.” He stood a little taller as if he needed the extra inch to help him get through the rest of his argument. “I know you’d be on board if it was anybody else, so why not now? If she stays—and we can put a halfway decent plan together—you guys can have him back in custody within hours.”
“Halfway decent isn’t good enough, Derek,” Luke said, his face growing redder by the second.
“Okay, then here’s a crazy idea,” Derek said, looking at the two men. “Why not let her decide for herself? After all, this is her life we’re talking about. She can run—and be on the run for days, weeks, or months—or she can stay, and this can be over with tonight.”
The three men took a moment to look between each other, silently agreeing that he was right. This was my choice and no one else’s.
But then their heads slowly turned toward me, and Derek asked, “well, what’ll it be?”
CHAPTER TWO
Friday, April 05 | 7:35 p.m.
I buckled my seatbelt and turned back to face the windshield. As much as I hated leaving Derek and Charlie behind, I knew that my safest bet was leaving Oakland with Luke. Though I knew it would be an incredible feat to make it through any extended amount of time alone with him, I also knew that he had an uncompromising passion toward ensuring my safety.
I couldn’t put a smile on my face and pretend that my decision had been an easy one; I didn’t like the idea of going with him, but I didn’t feel as if I had much of a choice if I wanted to live through the next few days.
We only drove for a few minutes before Luke stopped off to feed the meter in the Oakland historic district. I kept my butt planted firmly in the passenger’s seat, but he dropped his face in the window and shook his head.
“You can’t stay out here,” he said, nodding up at the building. “You have to come in with me.”
“In there?” I asked, staring up at the building. “To your apartment?”
“Julie,” he said, and his gentle tone wasn’t the least bit forced. “I only found out ten minutes ago that I’m leaving on this trip with you. I need to pack a bag.”
“Then pack.”
“You’re not staying out here alone,” he said, opening the door. “Come on.”
I watched him bite back his frustration; to spare us from a premature argument about something completely avoidable, I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I knew I’d probably need all of my fighting energy later (for when Luke really pushed my buttons). I didn’t want to waste time and energy where it wasn’t necessary.
I watched Luke’s backside as I followed him in the building and up the flight of stairs. I let my eyes wander beyond the body in front of me to study the common area. It was an old, brick structure, but the age had no bearing on the interior concept. It was clean, modern, and very well-kept.
It was no surprise when it dawned on me that it was the first time I’d ever been in Luke’s apartment building—let alone climbing the stairs to his bachelor pad. Though there’d been that whole four-week period back in January when Luke and I had technically been a couple, he’d been so busy with work and family that we hadn’t spent much time together. During the time we were together, he was almost always at work, just off of work, or dealing with something directly pertaining to work. I’d rarely seen him in a casual capacity.
He was fumbling in his pocket for his keys as we climbed the few steps to the second floor. He stopped off at a door marked B2 and inserted the key into the lock. Unlocking the deadbolt, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. He stopped short in the doorway to pull his shoes off, putting them aside before he even took a step into the apartment. Not needing instruction—which was good because he didn’t give me any—I did exactly as he’d done and removed my shoes as I followed him in.
“Give me five minutes,” he said, not inviting me to make myself comfortable or at home. He moved across the open living room and disappeared down the hall.
I stood in place—no more than a few steps into his house—and took a minute to let my eyes sweep the perimeter. I knew for certain that Luke had lived there for at least six months—but if he’d lived there any longer, it was impossible to tell. His place looked nothing like a home but more like a showroom model. There wasn’t a single thing out of place as far as the eye could see.
The stack of magazines on his living room end table wasn’t at all disheveled, but stacked neatly edge to edge. The blinds on the window hung at a perfect line, not even the slightest bit off kilter. His curtains—I took a minute to snicker about the fact that Luke (of all people!) had curtains—were hung in perfect symmetry.
Things only seemed odder the more I poked around.
The tidy living room had done nothing to prepare me for what I found in the kitchen. The hardwood floors looked as if they’d never been walked on. There wasn’t a cup, bowl, plate, or even spoon resting at the bottom of his sink. Heck, there wasn’t even a watermark. The trashcan was empty of everything except a white trash bag, and even that seemed a little odd. To boot, all of the appliances were stainless steel, but there wasn’t a single finger print on any of them. Luke’s kitchen gave a whole new meaning to the word clean.
I walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door—nosy, I know, but what can I say?—and had to hold back a sigh as I gazed over the contents of each shelf. Everything was just as orderly there; all of his food was labeled, stacked, and organized by food group (and sealed in glass containers). I slowly shut the door and shook it off, only totally psyched out by the fact that Luke was strangely and compulsively organized.
I slowly meandered back into the living room, taking a seat on the edge of the couch as I waited for Luke to return.
In the few minutes that went by, I only noticed more and more things that made me question how well I really knew the man I’d once called my own. The two television remotes (one labeled TV, the other labeled CABLE) rested perfectly vertical and side-by-side on the coffee table; the books on his shelf were alphabetically ordered from left to right, and there didn’t seem to be a speck of dust anywhere in sight.
“You ready?” he asked, returning to the room exactly five minutes after he’d disappeared. Out of uniform and dressed in street clothes, he had the handle of a wheeled suitcase in hand and a brown bag slung over his shoulder. “We should hit the road.”
“Yeah, right,” I said, patting my knees before standing.
As we stopped outside the door to put our shoes on, I glanced around the apartment and then back to Luke.
“I like your place,” I said, watching him tie his shoes. He didn�
��t look up, or even acknowledge that I’d said anything. “It’s very… clean.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, standing straight again. It didn’t seem to faze him that I’d just commented on his home. He simply brushed it off and met my stare. “Let’s go.”
After we were out of the apartment, the door was locked, and we were back in the car, he hadn’t said another word. I should’ve known that riding shotgun to Luke would be as uneventful as the days I tagged along with him on patrol.
He drove only a few miles out of town before pulling off into a dirt siding and stopping short of a black BMW Convertible.
“Let’s go,” he said, putting his car in park, killing the engine, and stepping out once again.
“Let’s go where?” I asked, hanging my head out the window. But he’d already disappeared to the back of the car and started unloading our bags from the trunk.
“Move it, Little,” he said, slamming the trunk closed. “Time is of the essence.”
Not having the slightest clue what he was up to, I got out of the car and helped him carry the bags and suitcases to the back of the BMW.
“We need to do what we can to throw anyone and everyone off our trail,” he said, placing his suitcase in the trunk of the sports car. “One thing that’s going to keep us off the radar is an unmarked, unsuspecting vehicle.”
“And exactly how far is this fancy pants car gonna take us?” I asked. I was unable to fathom being alone with Luke in such close quarters…especially for any extended period of time.
“Wish I could tell you,” he said, but he shrugged. “But my orders are only to drive you so far and then wait for more orders. I only know as far as Stop One. After that, well….” He took a deep breath and slammed the trunk closed. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
I looked back at his car and then to him. “We’re just leaving your car here?”
“Charlie’ll take care of it,” he said, confident that he had nothing to worry about. “It’s imperative that we leave all traceable belongings behind. We’re taking as many precautions as possible.”
In the new car and heading down the road, Luke was quiet as ever. It was only when he had something to say about traffic, or something directly pertaining to our orders that he’d said anything at all. But the hum of the radio playing quietly in the background didn’t satisfy my need for interaction. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat so quietly for so long.
With only a few hours of driving under his belt, Luke still hadn’t said much. Only once had he offered to stop for a bathroom break, and only then it was because he wanted to stretch his legs.
“So,” I asked, speaking up for the first time since we’d switched cars. We were probably four hours into the drive—11:45 p.m., according to the dashboard clock—and Luke didn’t seem to be getting the least bit tired.
“Are there any plans to stop and get some rest on this little vacation of ours?”
Luke passed me a quick glance out of the corner of his eye—the first look in hours, might I add—before looking straight back at the highway.
“Listen,” I said, turning in my seat. “I know you’re probably capable of driving straight through the night, and I get it; you want to get as far away from Oakland as fast as you can. But you’re going to get tired at some point, and there’s no point pretending you’re not human. You need to sleep.”
Still, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t grumble, groan, or even sigh. He seemed to be in super-robot-Luke mode; I’d never seen someone work so hard to avoid even the simplest human behaviors.
“For what it’s worth,” I said, yawning. And I’m not sure it was worth anything (because he simply continued to ignore me). “I’m exhausted. And the thought of a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and a good night’s sleep has never sounded better. Imagine the amount of ground we could cover tomorrow if we’re both well-rested and thinking clearly.”
I watched his face for any kind of reaction, but still nothing.
“Luke—”
“Your seat reclines,” he said, still avoiding eye contact. “There are blankets folded up in the back if you’re cold. Help yourself.”
“You want me to sleep in the car?” I asked, fully realizing how much I sounded like a diva. I used to spend every summer with my parents taking road trips; I’d spent more hours sleeping on those trips than I had enjoying the ride, so my reluctance to sleep in the car while Luke drove was just as curious to me as it was to him.
“What do you suggest, Julie?” he asked, finally looking at me. “We’re rushing against the clock, and there’s no time for making unscheduled stops. If you’re tired, sleep now; I’m not stopping.”
I broke his stare and turned to the window, watching my reflection with sad eyes; I simply looked on as we passed countless signs along the edge of the highway that pointed to a thousand other places I would’ve much rather been. I don’t know how many hotel signs we put behind us (or how many I counted) before I finally drifted to sleep.
Saturday, April 06 | 6 a.m.
It wasn’t until the sun pierced my eyes bright and early the next morning that I finally managed to wake up and focus on my surroundings. The car was parked off behind an abandoned warehouse somewhere off the highway. I shifted in my seat and turned to look at Luke, assuming I’d find him sleeping at the wheel.
“Morning,” he said, not even the slightest bit groggy. “Sleep well?”
I grimaced and sat straighter. “That’s a joke, right?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. Somehow, though I had no idea how, he looked as alive and energetic as ever. “I assume you’re hungry?”
“You’re not?”
“It wouldn’t kill me to eat something, I guess,” he said, getting as close as he probably ever would to admitting that he had any kind of need to satisfy.
“Where are we?”
“About six hundred miles out of Oakland.”
“Six hundred miles?” I asked, wiping away a puddle of drool from the side of my face.
I dropped my head and rubbed my lips together; the night had left me feeling a little self-conscious. Obviously I’d drooled all over myself into the early morning, so there was no telling what else Luke had witnessed during the night. Had I snored? Talked in my sleep? Matt had always teased me about my innate ability to sleep through anything, and I used to laugh it off as nothing more than a quirky character trait. But it was hard to laugh it off knowing that Luke was only an arm’s length away while I was at my most vulnerable.
Thinking of Matt, my mind suddenly went back to Oakland. I wondered how things were going in the hunt for Conan. Did Charlie have a lead? Was he okay? Were Matt, Kara, Bruno, and Derek safe?
“No word from home,” Luke said as if he’d read my mind. “But Charlie’ll call when there’s something to report.” I dropped my brows and looked out the window, and Luke simply sighed. “There’s no use worrying about them, Julie. They’re not in any kind of danger. In the meantime, we’ve reached our destination. We either wait it out here until we get new orders, or we wait it out here until it’s time to go back. Either way, welcome to Piqua.”
CHAPTER THREE
Saturday, April 06 | 7:30 a.m.
“What’s the word?” I asked, watching Luke end a call. He’d just hung up with Charlie, who’d called right in the middle of breakfast. Still seated in our diner booth—both on opposite sides—he tucked the prepaid phone back into his pocket.
“We’re staying put,” he said, but his expression didn’t give away much else.
I assumed “staying put” meant one thing: Charlie—and all the fine men and women of the Oakland and West Bridge Police Departments—had no reason to believe that Luke and I had been followed out of town. I could only assume “staying put” meant we were far enough away, but close enough for comfort. And I truly hoped that it meant that Charlie had zeroed in on (or at least had some kind of clue about) Conan Milton’s whereabouts.
“Did he say for how long?” I ask
ed, mindlessly stirring my orange juice with a straw.
“No, but my guess is a day or two,” Luke said, giving me more information in those nine words than he’d given me in the last fifteen hours. Since he’d given me a little—but not much—insight, I figured that Charlie must’ve told Luke something sensitive about what was going on back in Oakland.
“Do they have any leads?”
“Nope,” he said, smacking his lips together, clearly indicating that his “nope” was a big, fat lie.
“So,” I said, looking around the diner. It reminded me of the diner back in Oakland, the one where I’d shared many meals with my friends and family. I already missed them, and I hated being so far from home…. “What do you propose we do here?”
“Well,” he said, letting his gaze fall out the window. “Piqua’s a small town, so you’re not going to find much to keep you busy. But if you’re interested,” he said, looking back and nodding to a large, framed map hanging on the diner wall. “There’s a town map. You’ll find just about all your options there.”
I slid out of the booth and walked across the diner, leaving Luke back at the table to finish his breakfast in peace. I stopped at the opposite wall and stared at the map, letting my eyes wander from street to street. Somehow I wasn’t surprised that we’d ended up in the middle of nowhere; of course Charlie would pick the smallest town within a thousand-mile radius of Oakland.
Just a Little Honesty Page 2
