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“Stop. This is kidnapping!” Fischl yells, beating her hands on my back. Her knees make contact with my gut. It’s painful, but I don’t care. You could hit me with a bulldozer, and I wouldn’t let go. “Someone call the police.”
“Don’t you dare,” I order, not really knowing who I’m talking to.
Fischl screams for help all the way to my Ford, but no one stops me. I dump her into the back and then slam the door in her outraged face. She tries to escape, but I always have the child safety locks on—old habit from when Dunc was little and thought opening the car door on the highway was huge fun. Lost about five years off my life when that happened, but now I’m grateful because how else would I be able to get into my pickup without Fischl scampering off?
“This is against the law,” she screams as soon as I climb into the driver’s seat.
“I don’t care.”
“My kids are going to call the police.”
Her words cause my hand to slip as I’m jamming my buckle into the latch. I end up scraping the hell out of my fingers. “Kids?”
She freezes and snaps her mouth shut.
“How old are they?” I demand, staring at her in the rearview mirror.
Her lips stay zipped. I want to climb into the back seat and kiss her until all her secrets fall out, until she begs for my forgiveness, until she’s naked and under me, her pussy wet and her lungs screaming for mercy.
I scrub a hand over my face and start the truck. This is madness. I’ve gone completely crazy, but my insanity is not solved by sitting in the parking lot. I pull out, trying not to run over a bunch of teenagers in my hurry to get someplace where I can find out the truth.
My question about the kids has silenced Fischl, and it’s the non-answer that tells me all I need to know. The doppelgänger is not a doppelgänger. He’s my fucking son.
My throat aches from the howls that are lodged there. All those years ago, she disappeared, only to show up in this town with my kid.
“Why?” The word escapes me. “Why?” I shout. “Why? Why? WHY?”
In the back seat, Fischl snarls. “Why? Because you didn’t deserve him. You’re a bastard, and I didn’t want my son to be tainted by you!” The last words are screamed.
I jerk into the nearest empty lot and slam on the brake. “Me? I’m the bastard? You’re the one who ran off with my kid, didn’t even tell me and then turned up in my town years later. I’m the one who should be calling you names!”
“Don’t yell at me!”
“Don’t yell—” I stop shouting because sirens are wailing outside. I look and see a cop car pulling up. Big Ed climbs out and ambles over to knock on my window. I lower it slightly.
“Coop,” he says and tries to peer into my back seat.
Fischl comes up next to my shoulder. “Save me, Officer! I’ve been kidnapped,” she yells.
Big Ed arches his eyebrow. “Got something you want to share, Coop?”
“It’s not a kidnapping,” I reply as evenly as possible. It’s a challenge. I grip the steering wheel tightly so I don’t end up doing something I regret.
“Well, you don’t seem to be the type to need to lock up a woman, but since she’s saying that you’re not letting her go, I think the easiest way to resolve this is by you unlocking your doors and stepping out.”
“Can you just write that there was a domestic disturbance but that everything was resolved?”
“I’d like to.”
“I built your house.”
“And it’s a fine one, but the mayor called me. I guess this gal’s husband is old college buddies with him. Donated some money to his election campaign or something. If it were up to me, I’d be buying a donut right about now, but since it’s not…” He trails off.
I glance down at the steering wheel and contemplate how many years in prison I’d be willing to endure if I took off right now. Quite a few, I think. I start the truck. “Sorry, Big Ed, but this one stole my kid. I’m not giving her back just yet.”
CHAPTER8
FISCHL
