AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I didn’t think you were,” he was quick to say.
That gave her both relief. And dread. So much dread. Part of her had wished Jericho could prove that a killer wasn’t after her. But there was no proof. Just the opposite.
A killer was coming for her.
Or worse, for her kids.
“Since this SOB goes after loved ones,” Jericho went on. “Who else could he or she go after to get back at you?”
Rachel hadn’t had to think long about this. Her dad had never been in the picture. In fact, Rachel wasn’t even sure who he was. Her mom had died from ALS when Rachel had been just six, and that’s how she’d ended up at the Stronghold compound. Her widowed great-aunt Tilda had taken her in and raised her.
In a general sense of the word, anyway.
There technically hadn’t been much raising since Tilda had been focused on making the compound work, not tending a child. Still, Tilda had made sure Rachel was fed, clothed, and had a roof over her head. And there had been love, in Tilda’s own way of loving, that is. Not cuddles and pats on the head, but hard-earned praise for some of the hard-earned tasks that Rachel had had to do by living in a place that was mostly off the grid.
“Aunt Tilda is safe,” Rachel said. “She’s still living at Stronghold, and I’ve told her to be careful.”
No need to explain that it would be hard for someone to stalk a person inside the compound. Not with the high chained link fence that surrounded the place. Added to that, every resident owned at least one gun and treated strangers with suspicion and distrust. It was a closed community, period.
No need for her to explain either why she didn’t just live there instead of merely lying low with a faked death until the killer was caught. Going back to Stronghold for a long stay just wasn’t an option. The people in charge wouldn’t allow her to bring the threat of danger and outsiders to the place. And there was the heavy toll a long stay there would take on her. She’d gotten out when she turned seventeen and only went back for very short visits to see her great-aunt.
“What about your boyfriend, partner, fiancé, husband?” Jericho pressed. “Is he stashed away somewhere safe, too?”
Rachel listened for any hint of jealousy or disapproval in his tone. There wasn’t any. Maybe that meant there was nothing left between them. She tried, and failed, not to be disappointed about that.
“No,” she said. “There isn’t anyone like that in my life.”
He stared at her moment. “I heard you were involved with someone about four years ago.”
That would have been when he got out of the military. “I was. That didn’t work out.” And she so hoped she didn’t have to get into any details.
“Didn’t work out how and why?” he pressed.
Okay, her hope was all for nothing because Jericho clearly wanted the down and dirty.
“I’m asking because I need to know if he could be involved in what’s going on now,” Jericho spelled out. “Some people use smokescreens to cover up the crap they’re doing.”
Oh. Rachel hadn’t even considered that. She’d been so fixed on Paulie and Manson that she hadn’t thought of others. But she should have. She definitely should have.
“Chase Miller,” she said, providing the name of her ex. “We were engaged, and things ended badly when he was caught embezzling money from the company where he worked. He wanted me to help him cover up what he’d done by giving him every penny in my savings. I refused, and he spent six months in jail.”
She figured Jericho was mentally rolling his eyes and wondering how the heck she’d been so gullible to get involved with someone like that, but again, he visually did no judging. “When did he get out of jail?”
“About a year ago. And, no, he hasn’t been in touch with me.”
Jericho typed something on his phone. Probably initiating some kind of search on Chase. Good. Rachel doubted Chase would go to such lengths to get back at her, but she’d been wrong about him before.
After he finished typing, Jericho looked at her again. Their gazes connected. And held. Really held. She hoped he couldn’t see the feelings she still had for him, but she did want him to see the fear. She needed him to take this seriously and help.
“I’m tapping into Maverick Ops’ databases to see if I can figure out what’s going on,” he said. “No need to fake die just yet. Just give me a little time. And a shower,” he added, frowning when he drew in a deep breath and apparently caught the scent. “I’ve got blood stench on me that I’d like to wash off.”
“Blood,” she repeated. “Yours or from the case you just solved with the missing kids? It’s all over the news,” she added.
“Not mine or the kids’ blood,” Jericho was quick to assure her as he stood. “It belongs to the asshole who took them. I won’t be long. The searches can run while I grab a quick shower so just hold tight. Oh, and help yourself to more Pop-Tarts or the Jack Daniels. Screen on,” he tacked onto that.
In a blink, the large TV mounted to the wall came on. Instead of a TV show or movie though, words appeared on the screen, and Rachel saw all the names that Jericho had typed into his phone. Paulie, Marla, Manson, Jason, Chase, Dr. Cooper, Hildie Davidson, and her. He’d even added Hildie’s daughter, Francesca, to the search though Rachel hadn’t specifically given him the name.
“The screens have the same info as the laptops, but it’s obviously easier to read. Glance through the info as it comes up,” Jericho instructed. “I’ll be doing the same while I’m in the shower since I have a screen in there. If you see anything that jumps out at you, let me know.”
