Deadly Past. Kris Rafferty

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СКАЧАТЬ “I heard something outside last night, looked out the window, and thought I saw you.” He adjusted his stance to subtly put distance between their bodies…just a bit, enough to prevent himself from embarrassing either one of them. “When I stepped onto the porch to check, you were gone and my car trunk was ajar. That’s when I found the duct tape, zip ties, and brown cloth.”

      “Huh?” She searched his expression. “You found them in your trunk?”

      He nodded. “Then you called at ten. I thought you were calling to explain, but then the line disconnected. When you didn’t answer your phone, I became worried and headed over to your apartment. I’ve been here since eleven last night.”

      “Show me the stuff I put in your car.” She stepped out of his arms completely, and Charlie had to stop himself from reaching for her again. What was wrong with him? He clenched his fists, blaming his behavior on his unease. Circumstances were out of control, and instinct told him to hold on, to control Cynthia.

      “It’s still in my car.” He led the way through her living room and then out of her apartment to his black Charger, parked at the curb. Popping the trunk, he indicated the items in question with a tilt of his head. Cynthia went over to the driver’s side, reached inside, and unclipped a pen from one of his notepads. She used its tip to lift one of the cloth pieces. Two-ply, a foot square, he noted three of its edges were sewn together, creating a pouch of sorts.

      “Charlie, these are—” She dropped everything back into the trunk, pressing her palm against her chest. He looked at the cloth more closely and then immediately saw what had upset her. Yup. They were hoods. “And I put these here?” she said.

      “You don’t remember.” It implied brain trauma. He looked more closely at her pupils, and was relieved to see they weren’t dilated. “Like I said, last night around nine, nine-thirty maybe, I saw… I thought it was you.” She turned from him, looking down the street, but he’d have been surprised if she saw anything, because her eyes were unfocused. Cynthia seemed on the verge of a full-on panic attack. “Come on.” He didn’t want her losing it in a public place. He closed the trunk and led her back inside. Soon he had her back on her dark leather couch, frozen peas on her head, clutching one of her fringed green throw pillows.

      “I don’t remember, Charlie, and this is upsetting me. I can’t even remember going to the gym,” she said. “Though I know I did. My gym clothes were still damp this morning. What if—” She compressed her lips, seeming on the cusp of crying.

      He hovered, trying to catch her gaze. “Let’s go to the hospital.” She needed an x-ray, maybe a CAT scan.

      “This is crazy,” she said. “If I was at your house last night, I wouldn’t have broken into your trunk and put evidence inside.” She squeezed the pillow tighter to her chest. “Not without talking to you first.” Maybe. Cynthia was forgetting her recent and dogged attempts to cut Charlie from her life. Because of that damn kiss.

      He sat next to her, but was careful not to touch her again. Lately, when she was near, everything had a way of being about what happened after she’d kissed him. The kiss was never far from either of their thoughts, apparently, but for very different reasons. She regretted it, and he couldn’t seem to stop reliving it in detail: how she’d felt in his arms, how she’d smelled, and… Right now, those memories were counterproductive. Charlie needed to focus, and to do that he needed to maintain a physical and emotional distance from Cynthia. Not that he knew how to do that. Not with Cynthia, anyway. He’d never learned.

      “All I know is I saw a blond woman,” he said. Of her size and coloring, who looked a hell of a lot like Cynthia, but now he couldn’t be certain. They both knew there was no such thing as witness infallibility. He’d assumed it was Cynthia when he saw the blond hair, so his imagination could have filled in the blanks with what he’d supposed should be there. Her expression settled into a scowl, directed at him, and he had no idea what he’d done to deserve it.

      “How many blondes do you know?” she asked. When he didn’t immediately answer, she swung the pillow at him, as if he’d done something wrong. It bounced off his chest and fell to the floor. “I mean, blond women who come to your house?” He retrieved the pillow and returned it to her. By then, Cynthia’s eyes had widened, her outrage stoked, as if he’d compounded a sin. What sin? “Charlie!”

      “Do you want me to list them?” It wouldn’t take long. It was her and his mother.

      Cynthia’s scowl hardened as she sunk deeper into the couch cushions. “Forget it.”

      Her behavior confused him. After months of being ghosted, Charlie hadn’t taken Cynthia’s unexpected call lightly last night. In truth, he’d hoped the call had meant she’d finally moved beyond her embarrassment, and that she’d called him because she knew their friendship mattered more. Now, he didn’t know what to think.

      “Two blondes. You and my mom,” he said.

      “I said forget it.”

      “Listen, you called me at least a half an hour after I saw the blonde in my driveway, and then you hung up. Why wouldn’t I assume the blonde had been you? It was an assumption. Shoot me. All that matters is that I have no idea who she is, or why those items are in my trunk.” She narrowed her eyes, as if he were talking around an issue. It told him she wanted to continue arguing about blondes. Charlie had other plans. He stood, using a tilt of his head to indicate the door. “Shower first, or go to the ER now. You choose.”

      He feared her blackout was symptomatic of traumatic brain injury, something that contributed to about thirty percent of all injury deaths in the United States. Her confusion seemed normal given the circumstances, and other than lost time, her cognitive abilities hadn’t suffered. That didn’t mean she was safe. A cerebral hematoma could build slowly. Even as they spoke, Cynthia could be bleeding out, blood exerting pressure on brain tissue, killing cells. She needed an x-ray, or, better yet, the more informative CAT scan.

      Cynthia lowered her face to the pillow, ignoring his concern. “Leave me alone. I’m fine.” Her words were muffled by the pillow, and she was clearly not fine.

      “You can’t remember,” he said, staring down at her. “Come on. Let’s go.”

      Cynthia lifted her head, and seemed on the verge of crying. “Why can’t I remember?” she asked in a little voice.

      “Let’s talk about it on our way to the ER,” he said, holding out his hand to help her up. She shook her head, dismissing his hand. “Please, Cynthia.”

      “Last night. Did you see my car, or me driving off? Because my Lexus was parked across the street from the safe house when I woke this morning.”

      Frustration urged him to act the caveman and drag her ass to the car, but he didn’t want to instigate a fight, because Cynthia would fight back, and probably reinjure herself. He needed to think of some other way to convince her to seek medical attention. He sat next to her again, grimacing.

      “When I walked out to the porch last night, your car was gone.” He stopped himself, regretting his words. “Sorry. I mean, whoever it was in my driveway was gone.” He silently replayed what he’d said, and wasn’t sure he’d been clear. “I mean, when I looked, the person was gone and there was no indication your car was, or had been, in the area. I don’t know if it was you….” He shrugged. “Basically.” Clear as mud. He wondered if he should give explaining another shot, but Cynthia looked as if she’d moved on already.

      “And you didn’t think СКАЧАТЬ