Atone (Recovered Innocence #2)(34)

Alone.

I can’t even have Beau. Even if I could take him with me, he won’t want to go. He’s not going to understand why I made the decisions I made and why I live the way I do. When you’ve been hiding from something as long as I have there’s no going back. The decisions I made affected more than just me. I can’t and won’t undo them. I have to live with that, and it doesn’t make me fit to have relationships.

Especially with someone like Beau.

I don’t want to be selfish, having him for just now, but I’m so deprived I can’t help myself. Our time together will have to last me the rest of my life. I’ll never find someone like him again. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t ask questions, who just trusts. That’s a powerful draw for someone like me. I won’t be able to walk away from him until I absolutely have to. Hopefully before he finds out my secret and why I will always be on the run. Because once it’s out, he won’t be able to get past it. I’m on stolen time and I intend to take everything I can from it.

I’m waiting outside my new motel for Beau to pick me up. I have to keep moving. If I stay in one place too long it makes it easier to find me. The burner phone I’ve been using is broken in a dumpster with its SIM card stripped. The SIM card is in pieces, floating in a baggie of salt water in a different dumpster. I have a new phone now with a new number. That’s why I memorized Beau’s phone number. I lost all of our text messages when I ditched the phone. I’m sadder about that than I should be.

I also shouldn’t be as keyed-up as I am to see Beau. You’d think it’s been days, not hours, since we’ve been together. Our phone call this afternoon wasn’t enough to tide me over.

He pulls up to the curb and I get in the car. He immediately draws me in for a kiss. I can’t read too much into that. I just enjoy the moment and the kiss. He’s so good at it I want to go back for more and more. I make myself sit back and buckle my seatbelt.

“Did you pass?” I ask.

His smile flashes in the darkened car and he holds up his temporary paper driver’s license. “Yup.”

“Oh, my gosh. Let me see.” I tilt it so I can read it by the streetlights we pass. “Your middle name is Reid.”

“My dad’s name.”

“Nice. I like it. Beau Reid Hollis. It suits you. That was the hardest part for me, picking a new name.”

“You’ll always be Vera to me.”

“You think I look like a Vera?”

“Yeah.”

“I was worried it sounded too old-fashioned.”

He glances over at me. “You pull it off.”

“Thanks.”

“We talked to the people in the shops. Showed your sister’s picture around. No one recognized her as a regular. One guy thought she looked familiar but couldn’t tell us anything about her. Maybe we’ll get lucky tonight and she’ll grab a latte or get her nails done.”

I don’t have much hope of that. The shopping center is next to the freeway. She could’ve stopped there on her way to or from somewhere else. We could be on a wild-goose chase. But it’s time with Beau, so I’ll take it while I can.

He parks the car across the street in the parking lot of a closed U-Haul store and cuts the engine. It’s dark where we’re parked, so it’s easy to see the lit-up shopping center. There’s some action, the usual comings and goings. We’re about a half hour earlier than the time stamp on Marie’s photo. But that doesn’t mean anything. That night could’ve been the only night she was here.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, reaching into the backseat. “I brought sandwiches.” He hands me a plastic bag. “They’re both the same. Turkey and cheese on sourdough.”

“You cooked for me?”

“I made sandwiches.”

“That’s cooking, in my book.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited.”

“Do you cook?”

“No, but I’m trying to learn. What about you?”

“Pretty much every day. Eating out is expensive and it’s a habit. I have to vary my routine, so no regular takeout and definitely no delivery.” I take a bite of sandwich. “This is good. It’s spicy.”

“Chipotle mayo. Cora smears it on everything. Makes things taste less bland. I’m glad you like it.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Pizza. What’s yours?”

“Chinese. Specifically, Kung Pao chicken. I’ve gotten pretty good at cooking in a wok.”

“Yeah? Maybe you can teach me how.”

“I’d love to.”

It’s a worthless offer. This is a future thing that requires planning. Future and planning are two words I don’t have much association with, and Beau knows it. This whole conversation is make-believe. We might as well be talking about moving in together or where we’ll vacation next summer. We ride out the fantasy anyway. It’s a very nice fantasy.

“You’re really good at finding needles in Internet haystacks. Do you like it?” I ask.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m not good with people like Cora. I prefer the behind-the-scenes work where I don’t have to make conversation or have people staring at me, wondering where they know me from.”