Page 283 of Silent Target

“That isn’t the same thing.”

Maybe not.

But I could still hear my name in her voice before she drove into that wall.

Michael.

Not Fantom.

Not an unseen operative directing her movements from thousands of miles away.

Michael.

A secure message appeared on the monitor.

No sender.

No routing information.Chapter One

JULIETTE

My cousin Daisy’s ancient car smells of lemon air freshener. It’s covering the deeper scent of cigarettes, which she swears she quit last year. It brings back the memory of the two of us sneaking out to parties when I was back home for summer vacation. She’s always been the bad girl out of the two of us. That’s why I knew she’d have my back when I really needed it.

Like today.

There’s something wrong with the heater and I have to keep pressing the button to keep it turned on. The air outside is rapidly cooling and I shiver, despite the over-the-top silk wedding dress I’m laced into.

The tiers of lace spill over the center console and then form foamy trails right into the passenger footwell. Ridiculous. Every time I brake, the whole arrangement slides and drags further down my shoulders. I should have changed. But I was so desperate to get away that I snuck out the side door in hand-beaded silk that cost more than Daisy's car. I only stopped to wedge my phone in an array of roses and lilies as I went.

Let them track my phone. It can attend the reception without me.

The road climbs upwards through tall green firs, while dusk starts to wind violet and gray around the mountaintops.

Daisy’s advice rings in my ears. “Jules, just drive until you get lost!” She pressed the keys into my hand under her napkin at the rehearsal while Corbin practiced his lengthy toast. “Then keep going, babe.”

Checking the mirror, my heart thumps in my ears, even though I know nobody is behind me. Corbin doesn’t know where I am, not with my phone nestled in a flower arrangement. Even if he knew exactly where I was, he wouldn’t be chasing after me himself. He’d delegate the task, thinking it was beneath him. He’ll be standing in the aisle, cool and perfectly groomed, discussing with my father how they’ll handle the problem.

The problem being me.

Corbin asked if I was going to be ‘difficult’ in his study in February, the merger documents spread across the desk between us. Most of those documents I’d typed out myself. For years I've been the one who deals with Daddy's correspondence and reviews all the details he can't be bothered to read. I’m the invisible daughter who’s useful behind the scenes. He and Corbin had talked over my head about assets and transfers, neither of them guessing what I’d researched before the meeting.

Corbin's family is buying our name to add to their stable of investments. Not me; I'm just the fancy ribbon decorating the present.

The mountain road gets steeper, and the engine drops a gear, making the car lurch. Over on one side, the ground falls away into treetops, and on the other, an imposing rock face climbs up into the clouds.

I picked this town because I liked the name. Wildwood, Oregon. At the time, the idea of somewhere wild felt like a good place to hide; nobody would come looking for me here.

My wedding dress rustles when I adjust my grip on the wheel. As the sleeve rides up, there’s the reminder of what’s spurring me on. A bruise, neat finger-shaped ovals just above my wrist bone, turning a sickly yellow at the edges. Corbin had steered me out of the rehearsal dinner, his smile fixed to his face, his grip tight.

“Juliette, why are you embarrassing me? Walk.” When I flinched, he seemed pleased, like he’d worked out how to keep me in line.

Ten miles to go.

A misty rain starts falling, and I sit up straight, leaning forward over the wheel. The light is darker now.

Mother will be on her third glass of champagne by now, if they’ve decided not to waste the reception drinks. When guests start to ask what’s going on, she'll deploy her most tinkly laugh, making a weak joke about how high-strung I am. She knows never to rock the boat in exchange for a comfortable life.

And my life was all about being comfortable. Good schools, suitable friends, and eventually, the perfect husband. I'm twenty-four years old and today was the first time I stood up to my family. If stood up is the right word for running away.