Chapter Eighteen
Life slowed, as though time warped and Blaize got caught in the wave.
The SUV caught him on the back right passenger side. His tires struggled to gain purchase as he spun out and then slammed into a parked car. He bit out a curse and grabbed hold of the wheel with both hands.
Fighting against momentum, he mashed the brake. His first instinct was to reach over to protect Carys, but he couldn’t risk letting go of the wheel if he wanted to come out of this tailspin. If he’d been driving almost any other vehicle, it would have flipped.
Carys let out a yelp. Her hands flew to the dashboard to brace for impact.
This particular model was meant for off-roading, so it had only four airbags in total, covering front-impact and seat-mounted side airbags.
Despite the impact, they didn’t deploy. He was thankful for small miracles and would take whatever good luck he could get. His tires seemed to be fine.
Fighting to stay in control, he finally got the Jeep to cooperate and stop spinning out. The SUV stopped. It was facing the opposite direction. He glimpsed reverse lights. Was the damn thing going to drive backward to slam into them again?
Biting back a curse, Blaize stomped on the gas pedal.
The light changed. Several vehicles turned, blocking the SUV from coming at him again.
“Are you okay?” he asked Carys, not risking taking his eyes off the road even for a second.
“I’m good.” Her voice trembled. Was she in shock? Afraid?
“We’ll get out of this in one piece.” A trip to the police substation was a guarantee at this point. “Just a couple more blocks, right?”
“That’s right,” she confirmed.
“Can you grab a pic of the license plate?” he asked, figuring the law could track down the driver based on the vehicle’s registration.
The drive took a few minutes. The stop cost them two hours of time. As they were being walked out, a law enforcement officer looked up from his computer screen. His nametag read: Sargeant Amber.
“We got a hit on the plate,” he said, then frowned. “It was stolen from an elderly couple’s vehicle while they were at the grocery. They didn’t notice until one of our officers knocked on the door and asked about it.” He made a sharp tic of disapproval. “Shame it didn’t lead us anywhere.”
“We appreciate the update, Sargeant,” Blaize said.
He shouldn’t be surprised at the development.
As much as he was convinced the person who’d attacked Carys’s vehicle during the storm wasn’t an experienced criminal, switching plates before chasing someone didn’t take much brilliance.
Or a criminal mind. The move fell into the “common sense” category.
If you were going to chase someone and possibly ram your vehicle into them, you wouldn’t want to advertise your home address via a license plate.
With that, he and Carys headed outside into the late-afternoon sun.
Going to the address Thomas had given them felt like stepping out of the frying pan and into the fire. Since the license was a no-lead, doing nothing meant making no progress.
“Stinks that we didn’t make any progress on who is behind this,” Carys said after buckling her seat.
“I know.”
She rubbed the back of her neck and winced.
“Are you sure about not going to the ER to get checked out?” he asked, concerned she might still be in a mild state of shock, in which case any pain might not have kicked in yet.
“We don’t have time.”
“We can make time,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be worth the trip. I’ll take ibuprofen after we eat dinner.”
He opened his mouth to plead the case for going to the hospital and then clamped it shut. Panic seized him. The knot in the center of his chest tightened. He clenched his back teeth. All his systems went on high alert.
Memories of frequent hospital trips stamped his thoughts, playing out like a slideshow. Images of Lynn in wheelchair after wheelchair in various states of pain and anguish struck him like physical blows.
“I’m okay. I promise.” Carys’s reassurance did nothing to stem the emotional storm brewing.
After cutting on the engine, he forced an exhale and said, “Promise me one thing.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Let’s hear it.”
“You’ll let me know if the pain worsens or you think for a second you might need to get looked at.
Okay?” He couldn’t count the times he’d had to respond to Lynn’s screams of pain or found her flopped onto the floor because she waited too long to tell him about the pain.
Thinking about it now brought on a flood of frustration and stress.
Understanding dawned. It was written on her face in the way her eyes and lips softened, and the muscles in her forehead relaxed.
She dropped her hand and reached across to touch his.
“I feel a little stiff in the back of my neck from the jolt during impact. My head doesn’t hurt.
Just my neck. I fully believe it’s temporary and will go away on its own.
However, if my vision blurs or I get a headache, you’ll be the first to know. ”
Those words brought his pulse down faster than the temperature dropping on a winter day.
“Thank you,” he said to her, locking onto her gaze for a few seconds longer than was probably good for him. “You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that.”
“Of course,” she said. “And I hope you’ll do the same. Tell me if anything feels off. Because I’m worried, too.”
He hadn’t expected that. He’d always been the “strong one” when it came to his relationship with Lynn. He’d been the one offering reassurances and sitting by her side during and after one of her episodes.
“Sounds like a fair deal to me,” he said before breaking eye contact and backing out of the parking spot.
The ride to the MLK house was quiet. Not the awkward silence of strangers but two people who didn’t need words between them. A lot could be said in the silence.
“I hate the fact that someone knows exactly who we are, and we have no clue about them,” Carys said as he drove past the house.
“We’re at a tactical disadvantage.” The SUV driver had the element of surprise. They could walk right past the person on the street and not recognize them.
Considering how busy the sidewalks in Austin usually were, MLK was a ghost town. This fact wouldn’t make it easy to go unnoticed. Circling the block too many times could draw unwanted attention, so he parked instead.
Blaize exhaled. “Are you ready for this?”
SO FAR, CARYS HAD been attacked twice while sitting inside two different vehicles. It almost felt safer to walk outside. “We’ll see in a few minutes, won’t we?”
Blaize exited the driver’s seat and came around to open her door. “Have I told you lately how brave you are?”
Those words stirred up more of those butterflies.
“There’s a fine line between bravery and…”
“You’re on the right side of the line, believe me,” he said.
“Well, then, I’d like to ask for another kiss before we—”
“Done.” Blaize leaned in.
Carys closed her eyes and pressed a kiss against his lips. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt when his tongue dipped inside her mouth. She could kiss this man all day.
He broke apart first and then rested his forehead against hers, as they both took a moment to catch their breath.
“That’s a lot better,” she said, wishing they could go back to the hotel and just be with each other even if it wouldn’t last. For once, Carys wanted to throw caution to the wind and do the thing her body craved…and right now that was Blaize. Every cell in her body craved his touch.
She’d read something about near-death experiences heightening desire. Biology wanted you to procreate as quickly as possible with the next available partner.
Were her already intense feelings toward Blaize on steroids because of this effect? Or was it something simpler than that? Was it down to two souls who recognized each other? Who fit? Who didn’t need overanalyzing to know they matched?
Could she trust it?
Could she compete with a ghost?
Shoving those thoughts aside, she reached for his hand. He immediately linked their fingers. Calm washed over her.
Without another word, they headed down the sidewalk and toward the house. She’d seen it online, walked these streets virtually, and done everything she could to prepare herself for what might happen—an ambush.
At least it was daylight and they were out in the open.
While there might not have been many pedestrians, there were plenty of cars.
That should help in the event of an emergency.
She’d been trained to yell the word fire instead of help.
Apparently people couldn’t help themselves when it came to checking out a fire.
They came to see if they were in danger or any of their property.
Yelling help didn’t have the same response.
She made a mental note to use the word that would draw the most attention in the event of an emergency.
“What do you say we walk past once, check our phones, and then double back like GPS misled us or was recalibrating?” he asked.
“Sounds like a good plan.” Speaking of which, they didn’t have one beyond getting here and checking out the house.
With every step, her pulse kicked up another notch.
Her heart hammered her rib cage from the inside out.
They passed the home with the yellow siding and the menacing metal bars on the front windows.
No one was getting in or out that way. What were the inhabitants supposed to do if there actually was a fire?
They passed the house once, and then Blaize pulled out his cell. He stopped. Checked the screen. Looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a shrug. Then turned back and let go of her hand long enough to point to the yellow house.
His acting deserved an award.
“Nice job,” she said low and under her breath.
The crash had set them back on time. They’d lost hours they needed in order to find out who Stephanie/Sharon really was and who might be after her.
To find Rue’s father in order to determine if he was fit to take the baby.
Or, better yet, locate a next of kin who was capable of loving and caring for Rue in the manner she deserved.
That would be like hitting the genetic lottery.
If someone like that existed, would Stephanie/Sharon have made arrangements?
Would someone have stepped forward by now?
A trusted friend? The officer who’d brought Rue to Carys had said the babysitter hadn’t mentioned any known family members or friends.
She’d been sitting for Rue for a short time and didn’t know Stephanie very well.
When she’d asked for a second emergency contact, Stephanie had said she would get back to the babysitter and then never did.
Since the cop had nothing to go on, Carys had put all her hopes on the birth-certificate angle. This was the first time she’d run into a person named on a legal document who turned out not to be the actual parent. This territory was uncharted.
Plus, she’d bent rules before, but blatantly breaking them? She was about to trespass on some random person’s property in an area that looked like she would have better luck scoring drugs than getting the information they needed. Monday loomed.
Breathe.
Blaize let go of her hand as they walked up the short, cracked concrete walkway to the pair of stairs leading to a block of concrete as a porch. He slipped away, going left. Before she could formulate words to ask what she should do, he disappeared around the corner.
Rather than just stand there, she cut right, half expecting loud, barking dogs to announce their presence.
She welcomed the quiet as she searched for cameras in the eaves.
If this place was some kind of drug den or human-trafficking site—her imagination was going wild at this point—wouldn’t there be some type of security?
She rounded the corner on the carport side, half holding her breath. The parking space was empty. A bucket filled with cleaning supplies and a container of rags were stacked to one side. A couple of miscellaneous containers and boxes littered the back wall, some empty. Trash clung to one corner.
The place wasn’t worse than many of the others she’d seen in her time at the agency.
And it wasn’t the best. She could tell a lot about a person by the way they kept their home.
Messy was never automatically bad and meticulous wasn’t always good.
Hoarders always raised a red flag to her, especially when it was over the top.
It signaled a mental condition that required further evaluation.
Overly meticulous people who lived in wealthy neighborhoods abused their children at the same rates as folks with less financial means.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone or something move in the house next door. When she turned to look, the curtain closed before she could tell who it was. A kid spying? A nosy neighbor?
She turned around the next corner, expecting to see Blaize.
He was gone.