by Jacey Ward
“Cleo?” she choked. “Are you here?”
There was no answer and as Kimberly looked around, she realized that her friend was probably at work.
“Shit!” she cursed, sinking onto the leather sofa and falling sideways to stare blankly at the lifeless television screen.
She’d been listening to the news avidly, waiting for some word about a dead man being found in the Okanogan Forest but of course, there was nothing.
They don’t just announce these things until they know what’s going on. Even if someone had found him by now, I won’t hear about it for days.
More tears sprang to her eyes and she forced herself into an upright position, biting on her lower lip. She needed Cleo right then, if only just to see a safe, familiar face.
Send her a text and let her know you’re home at least, she thought but Kimberly couldn’t bring herself to do it. Cleo would want to know exactly what had happened and Kimberly wasn’t sure she could tell the truth.
Cleo is your friend, the closest thing you have to a sister. You can tell her what happened. She won’t betray you.
But it wasn’t that simple. If she was caught, picked up by the police, Cleo would have been dragged into a murder as an accessory.
No. I can’t tell her anything. I shouldn’t have even come here. Shit! What was I thinking bringing the car so close to her apartment!
But there was the problem—she wasn’t thinking, not at all. Kimberly was so overwrought with emotions, thinking was the last thing on her mind.
Should I move the car?
Instantly, an image of Roan’s face popped into her mind.
He had loved that car and not only had Kimberly taken his life, she’d stolen his car.
I’m going to burn in hell. I’m going to burn in hell and see him there!
Strangely, she took comfort in the idea that she would see him again in some semblance of an afterlife.
What would I say to Roan if I could see him again? What would he say to me?
She was torturing herself with this maniacal game of “what if” but she couldn’t stop it.
You knew this day might come. You knew you might have to take a life if it led you to the truth.
But what had she really learned on this trip? She was no closer to finding out what had happened to her mother than she had been before she’d left. All she had gained on her journey to Washington was murderess status—and she had no idea why Roan was trying to kill her.
Her eyes burned with exhaustion and devastation. She longed to close them, if only for a few minutes but she dared not.
Can the police find me? What did I leave behind?
Fingerprints and DNA that weren’t in the system. A witness in Joe, the lodge owner but something told her that the old man would have a hard time remembering what she looked like.
I’m safe here. Nothing can tie me to Roan. Nothing…
She closed her eyes, despite her reluctance to do so and let the fatigue overtake her.
I’m safe here. Safe from Roan. Safe from Oculus. Safe from myself.
The sound of a door opening caused Kimberly to startle awake, her head whipping about for a weapon.
“Oh Jesus Christ!” Cleo huffed. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Kim?”
With a pounding heart, Kimberly sank back onto the sofa and exhaled in a whoosh of relief.
“What were you thinking scaring the shit out of me like that?” Cleo demanded, striding forward, her face contorted in anger. Before Kimberly could answer, Cleo swooped down and enveloped her in a huge bear hug. The warmth of her friend’s embrace was more than Kimberly’s frail state could take in that moment and her resolve to remain strong dissipated completely. She burst into sobs as Cleo clung to her.
“Uh oh…” Cleo murmured, pulling back to stare at her tear-stained face. “What happened? You didn’t find out anything, did you? I knew you shouldn’t have gone, Kim! Why didn’t you listen to me!”
A combination of frustration and pity colored Cleo’s face and she sat back, her arm still firmly draped over Kimberly’s arm.
“Tell me everything,” Cleo sighed and Kimberly sniveled, struggling to regain her voice.
What can I tell you?
Dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hands, Kimberly looked away.
“It was a dead end,” she choked and cringed at the words she used.
“You didn’t find anything at all on the guy?”
Kimberly shook her head.
“I-I got caught…” she instantly stopped herself, realizing that she’d said too much but the ever-astute Cleo picked up on it and gaped at her.
“Did you get arrested?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Kimberly rose, shaking her friend off her shoulders and began to pace, her heart regaining the same speed it had maintained the entire drive from Wenatchee.
“I got away,” she mumbled. “I just…I didn’t get a chance to look through that warehouse.”
“Oh.” Cleo exhaled with relief. “Well, that’s good at least. It could have been worse. You could have been charged.”
Kimberly didn’t meet her eyes as she continued to pad around in the small living room.
“Kim, what else happened?” Cleo insisted. “I’ve known you since you were six, remember? I can tell when you’re hiding something.”
Don’t look at her. She can see right through you, a voice in her head warned but with Cleo glaring purposefully at her, it was impossible not to meet her friend’s eyes.
“Nothing,” Kimberly breathed. “It was just another exercise in futility.”
Cleo’s mouth puckered into a frown.
“Maybe this is a sign to give it up, Kim. This obsession with finding out what happened to your mother is consuming you now.”
Kimberly’s chin quivered slightly, the words hurting her more than they should. After all, Cleo had been after her for years to give up the hunt for the man who had taken (and likely murdered) her mother.
It’s easy for Cleo to say. Her mom is definitely dead and her father is doing life for a gang killing up state. She knows where her parents are. She had closure, even if she doesn’t realize it. She calls herself an orphan but she’s not one, not like me.
Still, Kimberly knew that her friend was speaking to her from the heart. What had started as a search for finding out the truth about Marnie St. James had become a full-fledged monomania.
It had affected her ability to work or sleep. Kimberly hadn’t held down a steady job in years and spent all her money on PIs, each who told her the same useless information.
Until she’d caught wind of this company, Oculus, Kimberly had been fed nothing but rumors and speculation about what had become of Marnie.
“Kim, I’m not trying to discourage you,” Cleo continued, her inky eyes darkening, almost to match the ebony of her skin. “But this is taking its toll on you. Every time you ditch everything and run off, you come back worse than when you left. If you keep going this way, you’re going to lose it.”
Kimberly hung her head with shame.
“I feel like I’m so close,” she muttered but her heart wasn’t into the words. Kimberly’s mind was not at all on her mother. It was on the handsome stranger she’d liked and then killed in the same day.
“You say that every time,” Cleo reminded her and Kimberly knew better than to argue. It was not a foreign discussion. They had it every time she returned from whatever goose-chase she was on.
“Let me get you something to eat,” Cleo said, rising from her spot on the couch but Kimberly held up a hand.
“No,” she replied quickly. “Let me cook. It will help steady my nerves.”
Cleo nodded slowly and studied her face.
“I’m going to jump in the shower but when I get out, we’ll have a long talk and you can tell me everything.”
Kimberly swallowed and nodded, grateful that she’d have time to come up with a plausible story about what had happened to her at the very least.
With a final look at her, Cleo turned away, and a minute later, Kimberly heard the shower turn on.
She padded into the kitchen and dug through Cleo’s fully-stocked fridge, marveling at how her best friend always managed to keep it together so well.
We went through the same shitty foster care system, in and out of homes. She became a nurse and I became a desperate nomad.
Of course, Cleo didn’t harbor the same secrets that Kimberly did.
She pulled out a batch of chicken breasts and found tortillas in the freezer. Each movement she made seemed to bring a flashback of Roan’s blue face to her mind.
I’m sorry! She sobbed in her own head. I had to do it!
But as she grated cheese for the enchiladas, her limbs grew heavier and the shame weighed on her like bricks.
I need to go back there. I shouldn’t have left him there to rot. No one deserves a death like that.
In the bathroom, the shower stopped and Kimberly steeled herself against another round of tears.
“Smells amazing!” Cleo called out. “You and your comfort food.”
Kimberly didn’t answer but she turned her attention back toward the oven, bending down to peer at her handiwork. Normally, cooking would have been her solace but that night, it wasn’t doing much to ease her conscience.
A knock on the door righted her and she spun in a panic as Cleo exited the back hallway.
“Oh, shit,” Cleo muttered. “I asked Matty to come by tonight.”
Cleo paused and eyed her.
“I’ll send him home,” she offered but Kimberly shook her head. It would be good to have other people around. She wouldn’t let herself get caught up in her own psyche.
“No,” Kimberly said. “It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
Another insistent knock caused Cleo to grunt.
“Hold your water, boy,” she snapped, moving toward the door. “Acting like this isn’t going to win you any points with me.”
Kimberly half-smiled for the first time since she had arrived home but it was weak, empty. She felt like she might never be happy again.
If I was ever happy before.
“Cleo Waterford?”
Kimberly’s blood ran cold, the dishtowel in falling from her hand.
“That’s me. And you are?”
Oh God…oh God…it can’t be.
“I’m looking for Kimberly Semple. Is she here?”
Desperately, Kimberly looked around for a place to hide. She grabbed the cutting knife she’d been using and backed up as Cleo came into view, casting her a surprised look.
“Kimberly, you have a visitor,” she said in a taunting, singsong voice. Kimberly started to shake her head, to silently tell Cleo to run, to call for help but her friend didn’t seem to understand her expression.
Roan stepped forward then and flashed her that winning smile that had turned her loins into a puddle the previous night.
“Hello Kimberly,” he said. “So glad I caught up with you.”
Chapter 8
Their eyes locked and despite all his anger, his desire to wring her neck, Roan couldn’t deny the attraction between them.
Like you’re going to give her another chance to kill you, he scoffed to himself. But he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to kill her.
“W-w-w-how did you find me?” she managed to squeak, the fear in her face almost palpable.
“What’s going on?” Cleo demanded, her black eyes narrowing as she sensed something amiss but Roan held Kimberly’s eyes.
Don’t say a word and she won’t get hurt, he tried to tell her quietly. Her eyes bugged and for a moment, he was taken aback as he realized she had understood what he’d said.
What the hell…
“N-nothing!” Kimberly rushed on quickly. “I-I’m just shocked to see him here. This is…”
She trailed off and looked him desperately.
“I’m Roan. Roan Conway,” he said and for some odd reason, he didn’t regret using his full name.
Maybe because I know I’m not going to hurt her…well, at least not the way she’s thinking. Even if she deserves it.
Kimberly’s expression changed to mimic the responses to his words and suddenly, he was feeling ill-at-ease.
“Hello Roan Conway. Who are you?” the beautiful black girl demanded, folding her arms over her ample chest. “And why are you looking for Kimberly at my apartment?”
“Well,” Roan said before Kimberly could speak. “Kimberly borrowed my car and I really needed it back. I tracked the GPS on it because she wasn’t answering her phone.”
He could see how aghast his words were making Kimberly so he continued.
“So I said to myself, ‘Self, who lives around here that my dear friend Kimberly might be visiting and you were the first person who came to mind.”
How did you know about Cleo? The question came at him in a panic, loud and clear but he managed to keep his composure and smile.
“Something smells great in here!” Roan continued conversationally. “I was going to offer to take you ladies out for dinner but—”
“I’ll get your keys!” Kimberly interrupted. “You can go for dinner still.”
“Wow, that’s rude, Kimberly,” Cleo snorted. “Don’t mind her. I don’t know if you realized that she was on a trip recently. She’s grumpy.”
The scowl on Kimberly’s face spoke volumes, but she didn’t meet either his or her friend’s gaze.
“The guy loaned you his car and you stole it. The least you can do is invite him to stay for dinner,” Cleo continued in a chiding voice.
“Oh, I’d love to stay for dinner,” Roan agreed amicably.
“No!” Kimberly gasped, looking desperately at Cleo. “No…you have Matty coming. W-we’ll go.”
She spun and headed toward the door.
“W-what?” Cleo called out. “No! You just slaved over that. Kimberly—”
But she had already disappeared into the hall, leaving Roan to shrug sheepishly.
“I guess I better go before she takes off in my car again,” he said brightly. “Nice meeting you, Cleo.”
“You too…” she trailed off before speaking again. “Will you keep an eye on her? She’s had a rough go the last few days.”
He studied Cleo’s face and nodded.
“Sure.”
Kimberly was just about to step onto the elevator when he rushed after her.
“I found you once, Kimberly. I can find you again.”
A foot stuck out and blocked the door from closing as Roan ambled onto the elevator too.
“That’s better,” he said. She stabbed at the lobby button, purposely keeping her face turned away but Roan could still read the terror in her eyes.
“How did you do it?” he asked.
“Do what?” she mumbled. Roan laughed, almost genuinely amused.
“Try to kill me,” he snapped. “What else?”
She cast him a sidelong look.
“How did you survive?” she asked and he frowned, his brows knitting together.
“You really were trying to kill me then?”
Her eyes widened and she let out a mirthless snicker.
“You’re going to play the victim? You kidnapped me and brought me to your cabin to kill me. Suddenly you want to cry that I escaped?”
His face twisted in confusion.
“I never kidnapped you. I told you that you could leave any time you wanted. You could have walked out the door without leaving me for dead.”
She scoffed as the elevator stopped and stepped out without responding.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she snapped. “But if I come with you willingly, without making a scene, you can’t ever come back for Cleo.”
Roan snorted.
“You’re really not in a position to make any demands,” he retorted. “Let’s go. And if there’s one scratch on Suzy…”
She spun and glared at him.
“You really do put more value on that st
upid car than you do on human life, don’t you?”
Roan’s eyes darkened.
“You tried to kill me,” he reminded her. “Let’s not dance around the issue. You did this. You stole my car. How can you be so damned indignant? Are you a psychopath or something?”
“You were going to kill me!” she yelled, her voice echoing through the lobby. “Are you going to pretend you weren’t?”
He stared at her.
“What the hell are you talking about, Kimberly? Oh, and by the way, you shouldn’t tell people your real name before attempting to murder them. It makes you much easier to trace.”
“I wasn’t going to…oh my God!” Frustration stopped her from saying more but for the first time, Roan was starting to think that maybe there was more to the story than he realized.
Didn’t Dad make the very same assumptions about Mom?
The thought of his mother shamed him in that moment.
Kimberly is terrified of me too. Just like Mom was.
But Kimberly deserved to be afraid. He wanted her quivering underneath his stare, begging for her life…
“I heard you on the phone. I know you were going to ‘take care’ of me,” Kimberly said in a low voice. “You can deny it as much as you want but you don’t fool me, Roan. I at least deserve to know why. Does this have something to do with my mother?”
Roan’s head was beginning to pound and he looked around the lobby, noting the security cameras in the corners.
“Come on,” he grumbled. “We can’t stay here.”
Reluctantly, she let him drag her along, through the evening streets of the residential neighborhood.
“Can you at least tell me how you knew where to find me?” Kimberly asked as they neared the Range Rover. Roan released her arm and hurried to check the exterior, muttering under his breath.
“I didn’t do anything to your precious car,” she grunted. He raised his head and nodded.
“You’re lucky,” he retorted. “Get in the back.”
“The back?”
“Yes. I don’t trust you sitting up front with me and there are child locks on the rear.”
Humiliation burned at her skin but she knew better than to argue. He knew where Cleo lived. If she tried to make a break for it, who knew what he’d do?
