Prom Friday
Page 4
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After she and Lewellan cleared the arrival gate area, she slowed to allow him to get ahead of her. He appeared to be in his early thirties, much younger than she expected. Why had she jabbered on so much? Nervous, scared, whatever, she had done her part. Jessica hoped throwing out the name Carla had not been her biggest mistake.
She watched Philip leave the airport terminal. His confident stride, his hair, his clothes, everything about him indicated money and a lot of it. He could be featured in an upscale men’s clothing photo shoot without any additional prep work. His physical appearance was one thing, but his tears and emotional reaction to the photo had conveyed much more.
He didn’t try to kill that woman, he loved her.
She dialed the number for her contact in New York. When he answered, she said, “He took the brochure like you said he would.”
“Did you keep your mouth shut?”
“I did exactly what you told me. Now, I want you to follow through on your end of the deal.”
“The charges have been dropped. You’re free to go. You can pick up your ticket at the counter. You have one more thing to do.”
She squeezed the phone. “Wait. You said all I had to do was make sure he saw the picture on the brochure.”
“Get out of Texas and never go back unless you want to be buried there.”
“No problem. I don’t ever want to see you again either.”
“Where are you going?”
“None of your damn business,” she replied.
“Have a great life,” the man said sarcastically.
She slammed her cell phone shut and walked toward the ticket counter. What had she done to a man named Philip Lewellan—a man who had fought back tears. More importantly, why had Barletto threatened her? Why did he ask her where … hell it wouldn’t be hard for him to figure that out. Her stomach churned.
She placed another call. A woman answered.
“I’m going to be a few days later than I told you.”
“Are you okay? Has something happened?”
“I’m fine, Momma. There’s something I need to take care of first.”
“I’ve been so worried about you. Please be careful.”
She looked up and realized she was next in line. “I have to go now. I love you.”
Stepping up to the ticket counter, she said, “My name is Jessica Riddling. I should have a one way open e-ticket.”
The ticket agent entered her name and waited for her computer screen to update.
Decision time. Go home and hope Barletto wouldn’t come after her, or go on the run. His sarcasm was a dead giveaway. He’d never planned to let her go. If she was going to run, she’d need help. She remembered what Philip had said, “I’m hoping to catch a flight out in the morning.” She wasn’t ready to confront him yet. Screwing up a police investigation could land her back in jail, or worse, she would end up dead, if Barletto got to her first.
“I want to go to New York. Anything, but an early morning flight.”