After the Storm (KGI #8)(22)

An Amber Alert had already been issued for Travis and Cammie. Eve’s face was plastered on many a billboard as the one who’d kidnapped the children. She was listed as highly unstable and to be approached with caution, as she could be armed and dangerous.

That was laughable. She’d never even held a gun in her hands. Wouldn’t know how to use it. There was a lot she regretted. One was thinking, as many people did, that she’d never have need of self-defense. That she’d never be touched by situations calling for violence. Or to defend herself from violence.

She was a naïve fool, and now Travis and Cammie were paying the price for her ignorance.

Her first instinct was to hide behind blissful ignorance. Not to seek out information or remind herself of what she was running from. But that would be the height of stupidity. She couldn’t afford blind ignorance or to ever believe for one minute that she was safe. Hidden. Out of Walt’s reach.

And so she needed to keep close watch and monitor the news and any other information about Walt’s pursuit, both privately and in the media. It was the private pursuit that scared her the most. Not that both avenues weren’t frightening. But it was the lengths to which a man like Walt would go outside the law that sent chills snaking down her spine and gripped her throat in a paralyzing hold that took her breath.

She tensed, shaken from her chilling thoughts by the sound of a vehicle just outside the trailer door. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her gaze flew to Cammie, who was still sleeping on the couch.

Oh God. What if he was here? What if he’d found her? There was nowhere for her to run. No escape. She had no vehicle. The one she’d bought with nearly all of her cash reserves—under a false name—from a seedy car lot that charged her three times what the piece of crap was worth had broken down outside Dover.

She and Travis and Cammie had abandoned it, knowing they had no money or means to repair it, and they’d walked. It was how they’d come to stay in Dover. Necessity. Not choice.

With the last of their available cash, Eve had rented the trailer and paid the necessary deposits to have the utilities turned on.

Until she was able to work and stock up enough money to fund their escape to the next place, they were solidly stuck here.

She rushed to the couch, galvanized into action by the sound of a closing door. She curled her arms underneath Cammie and flew into the bedroom. Cammie stirred, a sleepy protest forming on her lips.

“Shhhh, Cammie,” Eve soothed. “Be very quiet, darling. Someone’s here.”

Cammie went instantly still, rigid in Eve’s arms. Eve damned the fact that Cammie was well acquainted with the need to hide. To be quiet. On constant alert.

“Crawl under the bed,” Eve whispered, setting her on the floor even as she issued the command. “Don’t come out, Cammie. No matter what you may hear. You stay here and hide. Don’t make a single sound. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Cammie whispered back.

Eve all but pushed the small child under the double bed and then arranged the faded, worn bed skirt to hide the evidence that someone was hiding underneath. If anything happened to Eve—if Walt had found her—perhaps she could convince them that Travis and Cammie weren’t with her. That she’d left them somewhere else. Separating them so that if Eve was arrested, or worse, discovered by Walt himself, maybe, just maybe, Cammie would remain hidden and undiscovered until Travis arrived.

A knock sounded in the distance and Eve’s heart pounded harder. She whispered an urgent prayer as she shakily rose from her perch. Please, please don’t let it be the police. Or worse, Walt. It was a testament to just how much she feared her stepfather that she’d actually prefer to be confronted by the police than by Walt himself.

For a moment she considered ignoring the knock. There wasn’t a vehicle parked outside to indicate anyone was at home. She knew no one here. It was certainly in the realm of possibility given the time of day that one could assume whoever lived here was at work.

Unless they knew better. Unless they knew very well she was here. That this was where she’d fled and hid even now.

Another knock sounded. Harder this time. A knock that told her whoever it was wasn’t going away.

Bracing her shoulders, determined not to let anyone see her fear, she walked slowly to the door. There wasn’t a window in the door. She was fortunate to have a door at all with the condition of the rest of the trailer. No way to see who was on the other side without revealing herself by looking out the small window in the living room.

But she peeked anyway, wanting to know at least what she was up against. If there were police cars outside.

Frowning, she took in the same truck that had been there just the day before. Donovan Kelly. He’d come with Rusty Kelly, the young woman who’d hired Travis. What could he want?

Feeling only a margin of relief, she went to the door and cracked it cautiously, even though it was ridiculous, because if the man wanted in, there was little she could do about it. Even she could break through this door.

“Eve?”

Donovan’s soft inquiry slid over her ears, pricking her nape. Her pulse sped up as she met his gaze.

“It’s Donovan Kelly. We met yesterday,” he said unnecessarily.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was still dealing with the overwhelming fear she’d experienced when she’d heard the vehicle drive up. She breathed deeply through her nostrils, willing her pulse to slow from its rapid thudding at her temples. It wouldn’t surprise her if he were able to see her heart beat against her thin T-shirt.