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He’d been so easily trapped.
What’s gonna happen next? Where is he taking me?
Chapter 12
Now—Sam
I
“What are you doing here?” I asked, stepping out into the corridor, mainly to prevent Vito, who was sniffing around my feet, from having any contact with the man.
“Can I come in?”
“Are you crazy? I mean, seriously, are you nuts?” This was all too much. I longed to get back to the life Marc said from which he needed to escape—mind-numbingly boring, routine, no surprises. It sounded like heaven.
My heart raced, though. I was afraid I might pass out.Breathe, just breathe. And I really tried.
It helped…a little.
Jeb said, “A lot of folks might say I am nuts.” He smiled weakly. “But those same folks, every last one of ‘em, will also tell you I’m as harmless as a pussycat.”
“I have no reason to believe you.” I shrugged. “Cats have claws and teeth.”
“You’re right. You don’t have any reason to trust me.” He fingered the amethyst pendant hanging at his collarbone. Was it a taunt? He retreated a couple of steps. “Would you maybe consider allowing me the chance, small as you determine, to try to earn your trust?”
“Why should I do that?” I simply wanted to go back inside, turn both locks on the door, and go into my bedroom, where I’d hide under the covers, Vito’s warm presence my only solace.
Yet I remained frozen in place. I said, “And don’t tell me it’s because you’re Jeb. You’re not.” I shook my head. “For one, where are the moles you once had on your face?” I nodded. “I remembered.”
Whoever this man was sucked in a breath of air and his mouth stayed open for a few seconds longer than what might be considered normal. He glanced down at the floor and then gave what appeared to be a sheepish grin. “As Joan Rivers once said, ‘Can we talk?’”
I wasn’t amused. No, I was anxious and sick to my stomach. “No. I don’t think so. Not unless you’re ready to give me some answers. Sometruthfulanswers.” I reached back to grasp the doorknob, indicating I’d had enough and was ready to go back in.
“Okay. Fair enough.” He forced me to meet his gaze and when our eyes were locked, he said, “It’s true. I’m not Jeb.”
So, it was just as I thought. And not as I’d hoped. This is all a ruse. But what’s the endgame? It wasn’t money, that was for sure. Blood from a turnip and all that. “I knew it. I think I knew it from the first moment I laid eyes on you. There’s something instinctive in us, something that allows us to recognize each other.” I eyed him. “And I didn’t recognize you. What’s your game, man?”
He held up a placating hand. “Wait. No games. Hear me out. I’m not Jeb, it’s true, and I apologize for pretending to be him. But what you don’t know is that I knew Jeb. I knew him for a long time and, once upon a time, we had quite a bond. If you want to know, I can tell you what happened to him.”
Oh my god. This is too much. I don’t know what to say. Finally, a couple words came to me. “Tell me.”
“Can we go someplace? Is there a café or something near?”
“Of course there is. Go on outside. Hang out in the courtyard. I’ll be down in a minute.”
I didn’t wait for him to do as I asked. I scurried back inside, locked the door behind me, and went into my bedroom to change clothes. I slid into a pair of faded black jeans and a gray Keith Haring sweatshirt, red Hoka running shoes. I glanced at myself in the mirror over the dresser and asked, “What do you care?”
I debated for about a minute, thinking I could simply leave him outside and never see him again. But then who would answer all my questions?
I was about to hurry out to meet him, but not until I’d let poor Vito know that I’d be back soon and we’d have a nice, long walk, but only if he was a “very good boy.” Vito looked at me as though he understood my words completely. And maybe he did.
He curled up on one side of the couch, head to toe, and closed his eyes.
And I rushed out the door.
At least this night, this strange meeting might bring some answers.
II
