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“Look, it sounded absolutely absurd, but I struggle to believe in coincidences,” he rambles on.
“Leonard, I swear, I’m this close to losing my fucking patience.” I pinch my fingers together to show him exactly how little patience is left.
“Hadley always researches any girl you’re involved with,” he finally says.
“I realize everyone thinks I get around a lot, but I’ve never heard of Kennedy Carlyle,” I tell him dryly. “And I don’t get around nowhere near as much as the rumors like to say I do.”
“She was in the hospital the same night as Victoria Evans—the same night she and Marcus Evans died.”
“And?”
“And I found that really coincidental, considering her parents were the reason Jasmine Evans died. So I dug into it a little. Kennedy Carlyle changed her name a long time ago. Ten years ago to be exact. She also left the hospital against doctor’s orders the next day after her life-saving surgery.”
“Damn it, Leonard!” I shout.
“Fine! Fine.” He takes a long breath. “Before I tell you this, you should know there is no romantic involvement with any other man going on. I researched that very, very thoroughly. In fact, she’s had very few romantic involvements over the years.”
“Why do I give a damn?” I groan.
His eyes dart around the car as I glare at him through the rearview mirror.
“She left with Jacob Denver. The two of them own a buy, sell, and trade store online. And Kennedy Carlyle now goes by Lana Myers.”
My blood seizes in my veins as all the oxygen leaves my lungs painfully. The car skids to an abrupt halt, and Leonard catches himself on the back of the seat in front of him.
“Seatbelt,” he mutters, grimacing. “Why didn’t I think of a seatbelt?”
But my ears are thumping wildly with the drumming of my over-stimulated heart. My hands grip the steering wheel too tightly as I stare ahead but see nothing.
“She loves you, Logan. I think you should know that before you react at all.”
Something ignites loudly, and a hissing of fire drags me out of my head for a brief moment as a fire lights and slithers over a wall at the town hall. People trip and stare—gawk, actually—as the words appear, written in fire this time.
Run. Before the town burns to the ground. Run. Run. Run.
“No,” I say quietly, shaking my head. “No. There’s no way it’s Lana.”
“I thought that at first,” he says too quietly. “Then I read the reports on Plemmons from the autopsy. Lana had a few bruises. Plemmons was loaded down with them. A man who had easily subdued so many women in the past just ran over a knife after taking a beating? We just never looked into it, because—”
“Hadley,” I say on a rasp whisper.
“Yeah. Hadley. And then there was the pedophile who hurt—”
“Hadley,” I say again, feeling the binds of betrayal squeezing tighter and tighter, almost as though it’s becoming a tangible noose around my neck.
“Yeah,” he whispers, so much pity in his voice. “Obviously she believes in whatever Lana has told her about this crusade. After what Hadley went through, it’s not surprising. I understand it too, but…I don’t understand how she can be a proxy but not be suffering any signs of psychotic breaks. I feel like I’m missing something.”
My chest gets heavier and heavier as the truth slowly creeps into my every bone, robbing me of my ability to use any of my motor functions.
“She does love you,” he says quietly from the back seat. “I’ve seen it, Logan. She risked it all to—”
“Stop talking,” I say on a rasp, unable to say more when my throat knots up.
Cars pass us as we idle in the middle of the street, and I continue to stare aimlessly.
Every morning I woke up and spent the day worried about her safety, dreading every second away. And every night she laid down with her secrets, possibly laughing at me.
“You’re a profiler,” Leonard says, ignoring my demand for silence. “You know what she feels isn’t imitation. Don’t do anything stupid, Logan. You may be the only thing grounding her to reality, and if you love her… Just remember the story about Katie.”
