Paranoid(125)

“That’s exactly how it was!” Lucas shot back. “And she has to pay.”

“Why now? After all these years?”

Think, Harper, think! She glanced at the console; knew a bottle opener was inside and maybe a pen. Not good enough.

“Because I didn’t really know about it, did I? Everybody including my mom whitewashed it. When I asked, I was told some fantasy story about an ‘accident’ with ‘stupid kids’ and then she warned me not to play with guns, any kind of guns. But lately, I’ve been hearing differently, the real story,” he said, the skin over his face tightening.

The umbrella! Xander had one tucked under the passenger seat. She remembered him using it recently. Swallowing back her fear, she shifted on the seat, stared hard at Lucas, holding his eyes while her right hand moved slowly to the floor.

Caught up in his anger, Lucas continued, “I know the truth. I’ve been listening in, with the equipment I bought from Dylan, hearing everything. My mother has been talking to all of the fucking people on that damned reunion committee and she wanted a special shrine to my father and so there was lots of chitchat about him and how he died and I heard her talking to her friend who owns the newspaper when she was interviewed and they went off script a little. They all knew it, Harper. They all knew your mother killed him and they covered for her.” His lips twisted as if he’d tasted something foul just as her fingers brushed the folded nylon of the umbrella’s canopy. “They have to pay!”

She stretched, her hand sliding downward until she felt the pole. Oh, God, help me. Somehow, someway, she had to get away. But she had to find Xander. God, what had Lucas done to him?

Lucas was on a roll, unleashing all his pent-up rage, pointing the damned gun at her face, talking as if he’d never stop, his voice rough with fury. “Ned Gaston made sure his precious little girl didn’t go to jail.” His lips curled in disgust. “And all her friends came forward, swore they weren’t sure how he died, but she was the one who pulled the trigger.”

Oh, God, this was so sick, so twisted, but she needed to keep him talking. She had to grab the umbrella without him noticing. “So why is Xander in the cannery? What did you do to him?” She was trying to sound tough when she was freaking out inside, sweating, her heart pounding, stalling for time, stretching her fingers.

You have to make a break for it, Harper; you know you do. He’s going to hurt you or worse.

But Xander? Was he really here? Was he hurt? Alive? Oh, dear God . . . “I . . . I need to see Xander.”

“You will! I already told you, he’s inside.” Angrily he motioned through the windshield toward the building. “Now, before we go meet him, just one more thing. I want to send one more text to your mommy.”

“Mom?”

“Yeah. Your cute little murderess of a mommy. Now, smile and say ‘cheese.’” Before she could react, he snapped a picture, the flash momentarily blinding her. “Perfect.” He turned his attention to the screen and typed quickly, sending a short message.

Now! Get out now!

She snared the umbrella, yanked it from under the seat.

He caught the movement. Realized he’d been tricked and focused on her. “What the fuck?”

Now! She dropped her phone, and with all her strength, she used the umbrella like a spear, using both hands and thrusting hard, ramming the folded umbrella with its sharp tip straight into his neck!

“Aaarrggghh!” he screamed. Blood sprayed and he flailed, the pistol still in his hand. “You bitch! You fuckin’ bitch!”

She pushed harder still as he squealed in agony, writhing, trying to jerk the weapon from his neck. “Fuck! Shit!” He swung wide with one arm, barely missing her as she took one hand off the shaft and unlatched her seat belt.

Before he could get his wits about him, she found the button on the shaft of the umbrella, poked it, and, spring-loaded, it expanded with a whoosh, the canopy snapping open, the pointed ferule still jabbed deep into his throat.

She couldn’t see him, but the ribs of the umbrella caught in the overhead light.

He screamed in pain trying to point the gun around the canopy, while attempting to wrench it from his neck with his free hand. In his flailing he hit the horn. Inspired, Harper hit the emergency flashers, then unlatched the door and rolled outside, her feet hitting the rough pavement.

Her phone!

Oh, crap!

She thought about retrieving it but saw the muzzle of the gun and took off, sprinting down the uneven asphalt.

Behind her, Lucas howled and raged.

The Jeep’s lights blinked. The open door alarm dinged.

Harper expected to hear a shot, to feel the sharp sting of a bullet in her back.

But until that happened, she ran.

Harper Ryder ran as she’d never run before.





CHAPTER 38


The street outside of the Wooden Nickel was chaos.

Patrons from the brewery were clustered in groups, talking and smoking, being interviewed by the cops who’d shown up after the shooting or reporters who had arrived at the scene that they’d cordoned off. Pictures and video had been taken and Kayleigh had watched, distraught, as Cade had been lifted into an ambulance before it had driven off, siren screaming, lights blazing.

God, she hoped he’d survive.

As he’d lain on the sidewalk, bleeding, losing consciousness, she’d nailed that bastard Hollander, watching the gun spring from his hand as he fell, two cops from the Seaside PD all over him.