Page 220 of Identity


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As September arrived, she sat down with her ladies.

“I know this worries you, but that’s what he’s trying to do. Worry us, get under my skin. But what all this says to me is he’s desperate.”

“Desperate’s dangerous,” Olivia pointed out.

“Yes, and I won’t be reckless or careless. He’s been driving for days, barely stopping. They know what he’s in now because he bought a pickup for cash in St. Paul. The FBI’s working with the credit card company. I’m not using the card, for anything. And they reported a new charge yesterday.”

“For what?” Audrey demanded. “What now?”

“He must’ve heard about the wedding. He ordered two dozen black roses.”

“With a card? Don’t sugarcoat it, Morgan.”

“I’m not, Gram. I’m not. It just said ‘No Wedding, One Funeral.’ It’s not smart,” she hurried on, because her mother went pale. “Just not smart. All these digs. Every one’s a warning when he should be keeping it quiet.

“There’s more.”

“Let’s have it. All at once,” Olivia told her.

“They’ve got security feed of him on the car ferry crossing to Michigan. He must’ve had the truck professionally painted, changed the tags, but they caught him on it. He’s blond again, no beard. Still carrying the weight.”

“It’s like he’s leaving them a trail again,” Audrey murmured. “Like he did before.”

“It does, and they’re considering that because they’ve tracked him heading south and into Indiana.”

“Why do that?” Now Olivia rose, paced around the kitchen. “Why not cut over to Ohio, skirt the lakes, and keep going toward Vermont?”

“I don’t know, Gram. I talked to Agent Beck for a long time. They have theories. He’s trying to throw them off again. He’s looking for a place where he could hide for a few days, catch up on sleep, wait them out. Wait me out. Clean himself up, because they say he looks rough. What they know is he drove at least two hundred miles out of his way—if he’s coming here. And I know they’re practically on top of him.”

“Not good enough.”

“They agree. I can hear Agent Beck’s frustration. I didn’t want to leave for work without telling you. Right now he’s over a thousand miles away, and possibly taking another time-out. I have to ask you to shift gears because I have to leave for work in a couple minutes. I want to show you the dress I found.”

She pulled up her phone, swiped for the site.

“Oh, Morgan, it’s beautiful! Simple, sleek.”

Morgan felt her muscles relax at her mother’s approval. Audrey knew what worked.

“I wanted simple. Gorgeous but simple.”

“And you found simply gorgeous. I love the lines with just the subtle flair of the skirt. But you’re not buying a wedding dress online.”

“But you said—”

“The style’s very you, and very spring garden wedding, but you’re not going online for your wedding dress. We’ll make an appointment at the bridal shop in Westridge next week. It’s a lovely place. You need to ask Miles’s mother, grandmother, sister—and Jen.”

“Oh, but—”

“A lot of people, a lot of opinions, yes.” Audrey patted her hand. “But it’s an important rite. And you need to touch the dress, try it on, be sure.”

“I can always send it back if—”

“How about this?” When she wanted to steamroll, Audrey mowed them down. “If you can’t find what you love, what you want, what makes you glow, you can order the one online without a peep from me. And I’m buying the dress.”

“Mom.”

“Please let me.” Now her eyes filled. “I want to, so much. I want to give you that.”

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