Deadly Consequences (20 page)

Sierra murmured a silent thank you to the girl. No doubt, Sierra’s fears were making her stand out. No wonder the clerk had been eyeballing all of them. He’d picked up on their weird vibes.

Sierra took her purchases up to the counter.

“Disgusting,” he said, his lip curling up in a sneer that revealed yellowed, rotten teeth.

Her cheeks flamed.
Was he referring to her?

“Damn kids now-a-days. All they do is get hopped up on caffeine and fornicate. What’s this world comin’ to?”

She searched her mind for an appropriate response. The man had a good twenty to thirty years on her. His generation hadn’t been any better behaved; they’d just been less brazen.
Remember,
she warned herself,
blend in, don’t say anything to stir up trouble.
“There’s no discipline anymore. Parents let their kids run wild,” she replied, matching his tone.

“Damn straight. If my sister had been caught buying rubbers, our Pa would have tanned her hide but good.”

“Yup, I hear ya. If I missed my curfew by a minute, there was hell to pay.” This time she wasn’t lying.

“The world’s going to hell in a hand basket,” he growled with a shake of his head. “It’s a damn shame these kids ain’t got no value’s.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

He nodded and smiled, exposing his broken teeth, “Haven’t seen you around before. Are you new to town?”

“Just passing through.”

“Too bad. We could use more of you around these parts.”

She thanked him and hurried from the store.
Please God, let this get easier.
She pulled her hair back into a high ponytail and plunked the baseball cap on her head. Funny how a small change could make such a big difference. She’d chosen sunglasses big enough to swallow her face. Add the rolled up jeans and huge flannel shirt and all, in all, it wasn’t bad, for a makeshift disguise. She’d pass the first glance test.

Sierra tossed the empty bag onto the passenger seat and started the car. She still needed a different vehicle. It felt like there was sign slapped on the hood of the car, screaming,
here I am, come get me.
At least in a city, she could get lost. Out here on the Indiana Highway, there wasn’t much action. It was all fields and farms on either side of the road, and the exits came at long intervals. Outside of the semi’s, she was pretty much alone, making her a moving target.

She clicked on the radio and surfed for an all-news station. The tension in her body coiled tight enough to bounce a coin of it. Her heart jumped every time they announced local news on the eight’s. The tears came out of nowhere. Her future was gone, her present, uncertain. She needed time to grieve; instead, she was stuck in a no man’s land of emotion.

Emotion was the devils handiwork.
She half- laughed, half- sobbed.
Where had that come from? Talk about a bastardized phrase.
She was slaphappy from lack of sleep. It made a strange kind of sense though. Emotions had a way of clouding perspective, making it easier to over-react instead of thinking things through.

Oh, Jesus, was that what she’d been doing? Reacting? Survival mode had kicked it, her fight or flight instincts engaged. It was burn and die or run. She ran. But where was she running to?

The sound of brakes squealing snapped her back. The semi’s surrounding her screeched to a halt. It was like being in a metal cave. She couldn’t see what was going on. Her eyes slid to the clock. 6:00 AM. Too early for rush hour but traffic was at a standstill. Her stomach chose an inopportune moment to growl, reminding her how long it’d been since she’d last eaten. It was suicide to keep up at this pace. Time to make a list and formulate a plan.

She needed food.

A car.

Money.

Disposable cell.

Sleep.

Somewhere to stay.

She needed a town large enough to accommodate those needs, big enough for her not to stand out. Banks didn’t open until nine. She’d have to bide her time until then. Indianapolis was her best bet.

A horn blared, demanding her attention. The trucker next to her was making lewd gestures, and wiggling his eyebrows at her. She shivered in disgust. He probably had a wife and four kids at home, and she sure as hell wasn’t looking particularly good in her charity clothes. What was he thinking? Pig. She pitied his poor wife, slaving away at home, while her husband looked to get lucky on the road.
How many men kept secrets from the women they claimed to love?

Like Neil. Why had he become standoffish and irritable? He’d been hiding a secret, a secret big enough to get him killed.
He’d been willing to risk their relationship to guard it. They’d always told each other everything, what made this different?

He’d shut her out, leaving her angry and frustrated. If she wanted to be brutally honest with herself, she’d been sharing a stranger’s bed for months. He’d kept her close physically, while he pushed her away emotionally. Had she been so desperate that she’d ignored important signs and hadn’t known when to walk away? She twisted the engagement ring on her finger. A pledge to stand by each other, for better or worse. It didn’t get much worse than this.

There was a break in the traffic. She edged forward. Her heart jumped into her belly. She caught the reflection of flashing strobe lights against the trucks up ahead.
The State Police. Jesus, God,
she prayed,
please don’t let them be looking for me.
Sierra looked around in desperation for an escape route. There was no way to slip into the right lane. The tuckers were lined up nice and tight. She mumbled The Hail Mary under her breath and pulled the cap lower to hide her face.

Sierra died by inches. She craned her neck, wishing she could see what was going on. The sea of brake lights ahead of her blurred into a giant red, hot mess. She gripped the steering wheel hard, thinking of Neil swallowed by angry red fire, pictured him writhing on the floor, desperate to douse the flames. The chilling look on the dead-eyed killers face. Her eyes burned, she couldn’t cry, not now. She had to stay strong — her life depended on it.

There was a box of tissues on the back seat. They were useless, she couldn’t reach them. Keeping her eyes on the road, she fumbled with the glove compartment, praying Neil stashed some napkins inside.

The truck in front of her moved forward. Her hand rummaged inside the glove box, closing around anything she could grab. She spotted flares up ahead. The knot in her stomach loosened. The two rights lanes were shut down; everyone was being forced into the left lane.
It was an accident. No one was looking for her. Thank God. She’d dodged another bullet. Her nerves couldn’t take much more.
She dumped the contents of the glove compartment onto her lap, glancing down for napkins, papers, anything she could use. A picture stared up at her. She couldn’t look at it, she couldn’t risk seeing Neil’s face or a reminder of happier times. It would be too damn painful. She sifted through the stack by touch. At the bottom were a few crumpled paper towels. She reached for them, and dabbed at her eyes, wishing for a bottle of water to wash the taste of tears from her mouth.

A cop stood several feet ahead, using a glow light to direct the flow of traffic down to one lane. She averted her eyes; she didn’t want to look at the accident sight. Didn’t want to think of another tragedy. Not today. She picked up the pile resting on her lap. Curiosity would make her go through it eventually; for now, she’d dump it on the passenger seat.

She flipped on her turn signal and turned the wheel to the left. While she waited for her turn to merge into the left lane, she glanced at the stack. A face in the picture jumped out at her.
Grace McGinley.
Her best friend.
Grace.
With Neil.
They had their arms around each other. Grace’s head was nestled against Neil’s chest and there was an implied intimacy in the pose; enough to make her wonder if something had been going on between them.

A sharp rap on the car window made her jump. A state trooper, barely old enough to shave stared inside the car.
Shit. What else could go wrong?
The picture slid to the floor.
God Damn it. She couldn’t ignore the photo or the possible implications. If Grace and Neil were having an affair, the police could view that as a motive for murder.
Ironically, that had been her one saving grace in this whole mess. There was no reason for the police to believe she wanted her fiancée dead. Until now. This changed everything.

The trooper motioned for her to roll down the window.
Great. Fine
. This was it. There was an APB on the car and they’d run the plates. She was screwed. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d awoken to a perfectly normal life. Since then, she’d witnessed the man she loved murdered in cold blood, the killer almost certainly knew her identity, and her best friend and her fiancée might have been hitting the sheets. She was running for her life, and a baby-faced cop was about to arrest her.

She searched the car for the right button. The window glided down. Her throat tightened again. The trooper bent at the waist, staring inside the car.

“Mornin’, Ma’am. Don’t know if you’re aware of this, but your left rear wheel is pretty low. Drive too fast on that thing and you’ll be risking a blowout. We already have one bad accident to deal with tonight. Don’t need us another. ”

Nervous laughter bubbled up inside her.
A low tire? He was stopping her for a low tire?
She sucked in her cheeks, giddy with relief. It wouldn’t do for her to laugh in his face. She schooled her features into a smile. “Thank you, officer. I’ll get the tire taken care of right away.”

He studied her face a moment too long. Sweat broke out beneath the baseball cap.
Good Lord, I can’t risk any trouble.
She took off her sunglasses and batted her lashes, “I’m very grateful, Officer. It’s been a bad night. My grandma took ill, and I’m on my way to the hospital.”

He patted her door, “I know you gotta take care of your grandma, but take care of you too. Don’t you go driving back into Illinois with that tire.”

“I won’t. Thank you again. You’re most kind.” She treated him to a flirtatious smile. He blushed.

“You be safe, now,” the cop said, his voice an octave higher than it had been earlier. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing

“Thank you. Don’t you work too hard.” Despite her turmoil, she was flattered by his response. It rook the edge off her nerves and she was able to breathe easy for the first time since she’d seen Neil burn to death.

He grinned like a schoolboy. “I’ll try not to. Hope your Grams is all right.”

She nodded. “Say a prayer.”

“Will do.”

She could use a prayer. She’d take as many as she could get. He stopped the slow flow of traffic and motioned her through. Her hands shook on the wheel. This was the strangest day ever.
What else could go wrong?

Chapter Three

A sharp pain on the left side of her neck woke her. After she’d maneuvered her way through the rest of the traffic jam, her nerves screamed for sleep. Knowing she had a long road ahead to safety, she listened to her inner voice and pulled off at a rest stop. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, but she drifted off as soon as she turned off the car.

Sierra rubbed the stiffness in her neck, shifting into a sitting position. The sun was blazing overhead, it was going to be another scorcher. Her whole body ached from a combination of stress and the cramped position she’d slept in. Her bladder throbbed. It was going to be a hell of a day.

She grabbed her purse and headed to the restroom. While she washed her hands, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized herself. The sunglasses covered half of her face, but she couldn’t wear them at night. She’d have to pick up a pair of lightly tinted glasses for later. She removed her sunglasses, splashed cold water on her face, and blinked at her reflection. She looked horrible. Her make-up streaked across her face. Deep bags and dark shadows made her red-rimmed eyes look sunken in. Her cheekbones were hollowed out, and she was pale as a ghost. Using her hands, she scrubbed off the remaining make-up. She tilted her head to the side; without all the gook on her face, she looked younger. Considering her outfit, all she needed was a backpack and she might be able to pass herself off as a college student if no one looked at her too closely.

Time was wasting. She dried her hands and headed back out to the car. Her stomach reminded her she needed food. Counting calories wasn’t a priority anymore. Her eyes watered. She didn’t have to worry about fitting into her wedding dress now that her fiancée was dead.
Would he have gone through with the ceremony while sleeping with Grace?
She bit her lower lip… maybe she was jumping to conclusions. There could be a reasonable explanation for the picture — one that didn’t involve a tawdry affair behind her back.