us.
And she hadn’t called him. Or anyone.
Because...she wasn’t going to. It was like the chief had said, Miranda’s fight-or-flight mechanism went naturally to flight mode. She’d run if the danger warranted it.
Something had made her not trust anyone to help her. As though she didn’t believe anyone could help her. That the danger would always be there. It was stronger than anyone’s ability to stop it. He was reading her easily. On that, at least.
“Who do you think it was?” he asked, all detective now as he worked his way through the situation.
He waited. Was she going to tell him about her ex? Clearly that was who she thought was behind this.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She looked him right in the eye as she said the words.
She wasn’t going to tell him.
So why was she still there? Why hadn’t she run? Or called Chantel?
“It was weird. He followed me, and then he didn’t. I got to Ocean Street and he was there, and then he turned off. I saw him go.”
Ocean Street ran from one end of town to the other.
“How far were you from home?”
“Five miles. I wasn’t going to bring him here!”
In about five seconds he’d head out to the street. To check her house, and every one within a two-or three-mile radius. Just in case.
“Have you seen any black sedans around here? Any that you don’t recognize as belonging to a neighbor?”
“No. Again, I wouldn’t be sitting here if I had.”
He nodded. Whether she’d be at the police station, or on her way to becoming someone else, he didn’t know.
But he understood one thing. She was still sitting there only because the threat hadn’t become real enough.
So he had to make sure it never did. Even if it was imaginary, if she truly believed Ethan was in real and immediate danger, Miranda and Ethan Blake would cease to exist. Just like Dana and Jeffrey O’Connor had.
Chapter 24
Miranda considered not going into work and keeping Ethan home from school on Monday. Briefly. A few times. But she recognized that if she did, she’d be reacting to the negative stimulus, not acting in a rational manner.
She’d very knowingly put Tad on their detail, now that he no longer had any reason to watch Danny. Her belief that she had someone following her gave away no clues to her former identity, or even that she had one. So she’d chosen to tell him about the black sedan.
If not for him, for knowing that Ethan would be protected by a top-rate detective, they’d have gone already. Maybe they should be. Maybe they would be soon. And it would kill something vital in her to leave Tad without saying goodbye.
Before she gave in to instincts that could be tainted by the week’s events with the Williamses, before she gave up a great career, a home in a town where both she and Ethan were happy, before she pulled her son away from school and the beginnings of friendships that could prove lifelong, she was going to be very sure there was legitimate cause.
Tad texted her three times on Monday while she was at work, to let her know that Ethan was at school, that there’d been no dark sedans hanging around—either near the elementary school or her clinic. She hadn’t asked him to check or to keep her informed. But she’d known he would.
And thanked him profusely when he did.
Still, she looked around carefully before exiting work that afternoon, and then watched her rearview mirror as carefully as she watched the road in front of her when she drove to Ethan’s school. If they were truly in imminent danger, keeping to her normal routine wasn’t wise, which made her a nervous wreck by the time she arrived safely at the school with no sedan sightings. There’d been some black ones, but none that looked the same, with only a dark-haired male driver. None that had turned every time she had, or missed a turn and shown up behind her again.
She could be experiencing a particularly severe bout of paranoia. Because of Marie. The timing made the possibility rather obvious.
And still, she was certain she was being watched. A gray cap. A black car. Maybe it would be a bicycle in her neighborhood next.
If it was, Tad would see it.