Hidden (Nicole Jones #1)(62)

Finally, I hear Veronica coming back.

‘So what’s going on?’ Her tone is clipped, annoyed.

I scramble to my feet. ‘Just tell me: who are they?’

‘You don’t know?’ She seems genuinely surprised.

‘No, I really don’t. I saw them for the first time early this morning at the Painted Rock. I know they’re looking for me, but I don’t know who they are.’

‘How many people exactly are looking for you?’ She is being combative.

I sigh. ‘I’m not sure, exactly.’

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. ‘Well, those men are with the FBI. Or maybe they’re not. Is it like Zeke Chapman, that they’re just saying they’re with the FBI but they really aren’t?’

Now, that is a good question.

‘They say I have to turn you in if I see you,’ Veronica is saying. ‘You’re a fugitive. What’s going on, Nicole?’

At least Frank Cooper has been discreet. I couldn’t expect as much from the FBI, although I am now wondering how they knew to go to the Painted Rock. Ian had to have told them.

‘Nicole?’

I am startled out of my thoughts by her voice.

‘Yes, right. I’m sorry, Veronica,’ I say softly.

‘What did you do?’

‘They didn’t tell you?’

‘Something about computer hacking. I told them that you don’t even have a computer, or at least you didn’t have one until a few days ago.’

I really wish she hadn’t told them that.

‘So is it true? Are you a computer hacker?’

I nod. ‘But I didn’t want to do that anymore. That’s why I didn’t have a computer.’

‘So why did you get one, then?’

It is a perfectly logical question. And for the first time she notices that I have a duffel bag with me.

‘What’s that?’

‘I just bought it.’

‘Why?’ But even as she asks, I can see she knows. She is putting two and two together.

I don’t really have time for this, although as I think that, I wonder why not. I cannot go to my house now. I know they will be watching it, but I would feel safer at Hydrangea House. I need to get back there, and then, when it grows dark, head to my house to get the rest of my money.

I hate it that I need that money. If I didn’t, I’d get the next ferry out. If no one’s watching it.

I can no longer count on Frank Cooper and his policemen being distracted, since the FBI agents seem to be more interested in finding me than in Carmine Loffredo’s body.

I think about the marinas, all those dinghies that could take me out to one of those boats bobbing in the water. Problem is, while I can commit crimes with a computer, stealing a boat isn’t something I feel confident about.

Veronica is waiting for an answer. I think carefully about what I’m going to say. She couldn’t tell that FBI agent anything when he was here because she didn’t know anything. I don’t want to give her anything that will lead them to me.

I spot one of my paintings on the floor, leaning against the wall.

‘I needed something for my paints and easel to fit into,’ I say. ‘I don’t like carrying everything separately when I go to the beach.’

She narrows her eyes at me. I can tell she doesn’t believe me, but she lets it go.

‘If you want to hang out here for a little while until the coast is clear, you can,’ she offers, her tone softer now. ‘I won’t tell them anything if they come back.’

‘Thanks, Veronica, I appreciate it, but I can’t stay.’

‘They’re outside, you know,’ she warns. ‘They’re watching the ferries, they’re watching everything.’

And you can see mostly everything, too, down here, this time of year. If it were July or August, there would be too many people, too much sidewalk and road traffic. But it is still early enough in May for someone to be noticed. Especially a middle-aged woman wearing glasses and a ball cap. For the first time in fifteen years, I wish I still owned contacts and hadn’t cut my hair.

We hear the bell on the front door. Veronica peers around the corner, then back at me. ‘Someone’s coming in.’

She bustles away. I hear the soft mumblings as she talks to whoever has come in, then the front door opens and closes. Where have they gone? I want to check but realize I can make a getaway out the back. I start toward the door, but when I see a shadow cross the glass in the window, I press myself back against the wall. The doorknob jiggles – someone is trying to get in or at least seeing if the door is locked. I didn’t even see Veronica lock it after I came in. The face appears in the window. I see half of it, a profile, an eye, a cheekbone, an ear. The Hispanic FBI agent.

I am holding my breath as he puts his palm to the glass and he tries to see into my corner. It is dark here; I am in the shadows. I pull my feet up underneath me, my arms wrapped around my torso, trying to become invisible.

They have seen Veronica go out the front, and for some reason they think I am here.

It hits me then. Lucille. Next door. They have spoken to her, and she told them I was there. She probably told them I bought a duffel bag and a black fleece jacket and a pair of wool socks.

My heart is pounding so hard, I know he can hear it through the window.