That didn’t help.
“Though I promise to have you two reunited by the end of the day.”
Madison fought to maintain her composure. “That would be great, really great.” She cringed a little when she said it. It sounded false and ingratiating, but Paul didn’t seem to notice. “Just as long as you’re sure you can pull it off without raising suspicion.”
Paul lifted a brow, and Madison fell silent. Not once since she’d known him had he ever had a problem getting what he wanted.
Madison rubbed her fingers over the burn scar on the inside of her arm. There was a new scar just above it, from where the tracker had been torn from her flesh. Whoever had done it had clumsily stitched her up again. So by the time Paul had found her, an infection was setting in. Luckily, Paul knew his way around such things and got her cleaned up and restitched. He must’ve done a good job, since all her various wounds seemed to be healing a lot faster than her ankle was.
The tracker had wound up next to a body so ravaged by coyotes that everyone had at first mistaken it for hers. Apparently, Layla, Tommy, Aster, and Ryan had been out looking for her. How funny it would be when she managed to track them down first.
“You going to be okay, staying here alone?”
Madison struggled to a sitting position, making it appear so much harder, and much more painful, than it actually was.
“I’ll be fine.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “But maybe you can give me another pill?”
Paul rubbed at his chin, looking conflicted. “They’re highly addictive.”
Madison groaned. “Fine, then. Leave me alone
for hours on end with nothing to do but think about how much pain I’m in so I can relive all the terrible things I’ve been through.”
Without a word, he brought her two tablets and a tall glass of water. “Four hours between these. No sooner.”
“You’re going to be gone that long?”
Where the hell were they?
“Probably not,” he said. “But just in case.”
She placed the tablet onto her tongue and went through the motions of pretending to swallow.
When he finally grabbed his laptop, pocketed his keys, and headed out the front door, Madison reached for her crutches and rushed toward the window, where she watched through the curtains as the tires crunched over the gravel and the car backed down the drive. Once he’d pulled onto the unpaved road and driven out of sight, Madison hurriedly changed into one of the disguises Paul had brought along in the event they needed to go out in public.
With her wig adjusted and makeup in place, Madison stood before a mirror and searched her reflection. She had no idea if it would work, but she was committed to trying.
She made for the safe and punched in the code. All that time pretending to sleep had paid off. Paul grew careless when he assumed no one was watching, making the combination easy to crack. Inside, just as she’d hoped, she found an envelope stuffed thick with cash, the key to the old Jeep he used for local errands and stored in the shed, a burner phone, and a gun.
She reached for the pistol and curled her fingers around the grip. The weapon felt big, weighty, but reassuring all the same. She lifted her arm, aimed the barrel toward the opposite wall, and feigned pulling the trigger. Thanks to Paul’s training, she was more than capable of handling it. Madison was far more adept than most people realized when it came to such things.
She was just securing the money and gun into her bag when she noticed a plastic ID card hidden under a stack of fake passports.
It was from West Virginia, and at first she wondered if it might be her own, or even Paul’s.
But as soon as she flipped it over and saw the face and name labeled on the front, she had all the proof she needed to know she’d been right all along. Paul had been lying when he claimed he didn’t know the first thing about the man he’d murdered.
Madison studied the man’s face and realized she’d never really forgotten him. What memory—perhaps in an effort to protect her—had relegated to a blur, was now staring right back at her.
This was the man who’d found her in the middle of Death Valley.
The one who’d dragged her back to his shack and tried to assault her, until Paul came along and planted a bullet in the side of his head.
Even on his ID, he looked dodgy, seedy, and yet vaguely familiar.
Although she didn’t recognize the name, she knew better than to pretend the West Virginia ID was a coincidence.
Now more than ever she was convinced that everything that’d happened to her was directly related to what had gone down one decade before.