Hidden Identity. Carol J. Post

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СКАЧАТЬ but I’ve got it.”

      Stubbornness crept into his features. “I’m not leaving until you’re locked safely back inside. So you may as well let me help you.”

      As she stepped out the door with a bucket, some dish soap and a brush, relief nudged some of the annoyance aside. With a prowler on the loose, standing outside alone in the middle of the night wasn’t the smartest thing to do. It was almost worth the suspicious glances and prying questions to have Hunter’s protection.

      But over the next ten minutes, there weren’t any suspicious glances or prying questions. He insisted on doing the scrubbing and had her hold the hose. The paint seemed to come off well, with little, if any, tint remaining behind. The real test would be when the sun came up.

      He walked her to the front door. “Keep everything locked. And call if anything at all seems off. I’ll give you my cell number.”

      “That’s okay. If it’s an emergency, I’ll just call 911. I don’t want to bother you.”

      “It’s no bother. It’s my job.”

      “Not when you’re off duty.”

      He started to turn, then hesitated. “Don’t leave Cedar Key.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

      “Don’t worry. I won’t.” She had no choice. As much as she longed to run, that wasn’t an option. Her funds were too low. The bus ticket from California had taken a good chunk of what she had squirreled away. And getting set up in the small house she rented had taken most of the rest. By the time Darci had given her the part-time job in her gift shop, Meagan hadn’t been sure how she was going to eat the following week.

      No, she would have to save up much more than a measly four hundred dollars before she was ready to disappear again. Until then, she was stuck. Regardless of who might be stalking her.

      She watched Hunter step off the porch, then closed and locked the door. For some reason, the emptiness of the house seemed more pronounced than ever, mirroring the emptiness of her life.

      Instead of returning to bed, she opened the desk drawer and removed two paperbacks she had picked up at a garage sale last weekend. A third book lay underneath. It was old—a small, thick book of classic poetry—and one of the few things she had brought with her from California. It had belonged to Charlie. She had borrowed it so many times, he had joked that he would will it to her when he died.

      That day came sooner than either of them had anticipated.

      But the books weren’t what she was after. The drawer held one other cherished item—a five-by-seven photo. It was the only one she had. She’d left all the albums behind, with their pictures of family camping trips, picnics, her sister’s roller-hockey tournaments. She’d had no choice. If one had been missing, Edmund would have known the truth.

      So she had settled for a single photo, hidden years ago when a more current one was put into the frame in front of it. It was of the three of them—her mom, her sister and her. Meagan had been twelve at the time, her sister only six. Ever since their dad went to jail for the last time and their mom became both mother and father, the three of them had been inseparable. Until Edmund.

      One of his first steps in taking over her life had been talking her into quitting school. Not permanently. Just one semester. A break to focus all her attention on getting her art career off the ground. If she would move into his house, she could give up her waitressing job and do nothing but paint.

      And her clunker of a car that needed work—why dump money into it when his butler would chauffeur her anywhere she wanted to go in the Mercedes? Each choice had seemed like a no-brainer. Trading a small apartment downtown for a mansion on twenty acres. A 1992 Pontiac Sunbird for a brand-new Mercedes. Hours on her feet serving demanding customers for days spent painting in a large, sunny studio overlooking the lake.

      What she hadn’t recognized until much too late was that the real trade she had made was freedom for bondage.

      She removed the picture from the bottom of the drawer, the longing in her heart threatening to tear it in two. So many times she had picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number, but never hit Send. Her mom and sister lived less than twenty miles from Edmund. There was always that slim chance their paths could cross. And if they knew she was alive, Edmund would see their happiness and pry the reason out of them somehow.

      So she would never do more than dial the number. And stare at a twelve-year-old photo.

      When she boarded the bus for Florida, she’d thought she had gained her freedom. She was wrong.

      She was no longer living under Edmund’s roof, but he still invaded her dreams.

      He had no more control over her friendships, but she could never let anyone get close.

      She wasn’t a victim of his mind games anymore, but she lived with the constant fear that he would one day find her.

      No, she wasn’t free.

      Freedom was nothing but an illusion.

      * * *

      Hunter eased his cruiser to a stop in front of Darci’s Collectibles and Gifts. The older red Corolla was parked at the curb, which meant Darci was there. So was the pink Schwinn bike, Meagan’s mode of transportation.

      When he entered the store, Darci stood at the counter unpacking a small box of office supplies. She looked up from her work to offer him a vibrant smile. “What are you up to?”

      “Just the usual. Hanging out, keeping the streets of Cedar Key crime-free.” Investigating a suspicious woman with “murderer” painted on the side of her house.

      He glanced around the shop. Meagan was nowhere to be seen. She was probably avoiding him. For good reason. She was hiding something. At least she wasn’t a flight risk, not on a bicycle. Or in a johnboat powered by a four-horse motor.

      Darci pulled a pack of fluorescent-colored Post-It notes from the box and set them beside the pens and calculator tape already on the counter. “It’s been busy today. We’ve finally hit a lull, but we’ve had a steady stream of customers all morning.”

      Before he could respond, the phone began to ring, drawing Meagan out of hiding. She slipped past Darci and laid an envelope on the counter, avoiding eye contact with him. Yep, definitely someone with something to hide.

      As soon as he could get Darci alone, he’d talk to her. If she would give him the information he needed, he’d put it through the database. Running the numbers on Meagan’s boat registration sticker had led nowhere. They were easy enough to get; she kept the boat pulled up on the narrow strip of beach at Darci’s parents’ place. But it was still in Darci’s dad’s name. And Meagan had no car tag to run. According to Darci, she didn’t even have a bank account. She cashed her checks at Darci’s bank, then paid her bills with cash or money orders.

      Meagan picked up the envelope she had previously laid down and began to tap it against the counter. Whoever was on the phone was apparently trying to sell her something, judging from her side of the conversation. But Meagan wasn’t budging. Finally, she hung up. Whether the conversation actually ended or she got fed up and cut it short, he couldn’t tell.

      She handed the envelope to Darci.

      “What’s СКАЧАТЬ