To Die for... Truth E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Scarlett Finn
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

My mom taught me to run. To hide. To never stay put. To always be aware.

Time didn't feel finite until I lost her.

I'm alone in the world.

If I run now, I'll be running forever. It's time to stop. Turn around. Take a stand.

Stick to one goal. Seems simple. I didn't bargain on a mellow grease monkey being such a distraction.

Giving in was supposed to be a one-night affair. Yet, somehow, he becomes my roommate, my friend with benefits… my rock.

He offers stability. Security. With him, I don't feel alone anymore.

As I follow the complex mystery across the country and back, the pieces still don't fit the puzzle. Steamy nights and days on the road take me closer to the truth. Except…

Danny doesn't know my secrets. Not all of them. I should confess, but don't know how.

How do I tell him that his life is in danger?

He'll ask why? And the answer…?

Because I'm too selfish to let him go.


Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2021 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2021

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2021

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. It may not be used to train AI software or for the creation of AI works.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover Design by Shepard Originals

www.scarlettfinn.com

TO DIE FOR…

To Die for Truth

To Die for Honor

To Die for Virtue

To Die for Duty

To Die for Love

Read them in order for maximized reading pleasure.

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

Click here if you’d like to leave a message for Scarlett.

Enjoy!

CONTENTS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRTY-NINE

ONE

TESS ANDERSON WAS AWARE of her mom rushing in and out, packing their possessions into the suitcases scattered around the living room. Headphones spared her the matriarch’s accompanying monologue. She cared. She did. There just wasn’t time to humor anyone. Clients’ alterations had to be delivered before her nightclub shift.

The headphones were yanked off her head and tossed to the desk. “Are you listening to me?”

“I am not listening to you, Mom. I’m listening to Prince.” Tess switched her focus back to the sewing machine. “He makes more sense.”

“Please do not mutter at me, I despise the muttering.”

Concentrating on her work, she pressed the foot pedal and ran the last seam into the needle. “You know I’m no good at subtle. If you want to tell me something, tell me.”

Frustration seasoned Anne’s next exhale. “Twenty-seven years I’ve been keeping you alive. One of these days, you’ll be responsible for yourself.”

Like she’d never heard that before.

Tess smiled. “Momma didn’t raise no fool.”

Her mother sinking to a crouch was a signal to pay closer attention.

“Light-Sprite…” Anne took her daughter’s hand from the table. “I would never want to worry you.”

And that was the beacon, the message came through loud and clear. “It’s time to go?”

“The things we do for love,” her mom said on a sigh, referencing one of her favorite songs.

Taking a deep breath, Tess adjusted to the development. “When? How much time?”

The moment of hesitation on Anne’s lips contradicted the meager smile that followed. “We don’t have to leave immediately.”

“But soon?”

“Soon.”

Soon could mean later that night or the next day. Maybe they’d leave in a week. Whenever it was, Anne had just issued the final warning. It was time to say goodbye to yet another city.

***

AFTER RUNNING ERRANDS and slinging drinks for a few hours, Tess came home in the dead of night. As usual, her mom had fallen asleep reading in bed. She put the book on the nightstand and tucked her mother in, kissing her cheek before flicking off the lamp.

Inhale and out. Her mom’s breathing was so even. So peaceful.

Their perpetual cycle had to be a burden. Something had to come next, had to change, eventually. At some point, Anne would get bored with the constant moving, the never staying still. Wouldn’t she? Her whole life, the same question.

Tess went to bed and slept late the next day. Her mom was already out, so she went about completing alterations for various stores. Several sold the apparel she made on consignment too. The lamp next to her worktable countered the shadow of her body as hours passed. Until a loud knock drew her attention, she didn’t realize just how many. Night blackened the windows, despite the streetlights’ efforts to keep the neighborhood safe.

Anne never forgot her keys. It wasn’t like her to be out late either. As Tess reached the hall, the knock came again. The only keys on the hook by the front door were hers. Something must’ve happened.

Figuring she’d hear quite a tale, Tess opened the door wearing a smile that quickly faded. Two police officers stood on the threshold, rain pouring down behind them.

“Ms. Anderson?” She had no memory of reacting to the question. “I’m sorry to tell you we have bad news.”

TWO

CLUTCHING THE URN TO her chest, Tess dropped her weight against the front door to close it. The wall clock in the kitchen ticked. Even in the hall, she could hear it. The solitary sound. Ticking. The seconds of her life dwindling away.

The stairs straight ahead led to rooms she shared with her mother.

Had shared.

They didn’t share anything anymore. Never would again.

It took every ounce of energy to draw her next breath.

The only world Tess knew was the one her mom created.

What was her world without its creator?

They didn’t need anyone else.

Except now she was alone.

Alone.

News of the car accident had stopped her world on its axis. From two to just one, Tess had been halved. Her life was half gone.

What to do next? Her well of inner strength was parched; her knees ached to buckle. It was a test. Collapsing into her grief would be the easy option. Easy didn’t mean right.

Giving up in that pivotal moment meant never getting back up again.

It was a choice. Every step she took was a choice, every decision. Tess wouldn’t fall down, she’d stand tall. Even when it was hard, they had to keep going, like Anne taught her.

Pushing away from the door, Tess strode to the stairs, beset by a new determination. Her mom had said “soon.” For her, soon was that minute.

There were rules about leaving an abode for the last time. Clear rules. They couldn’t leave anything behind. Nothing that could identify them.

First thing was laundry. The beds had to be stripped, towels collected, and everything was put through the highest temperature cycle in the washer.

In her mom’s room, she threw the comforter off the end of the bed and flipped over a pillow. Something fluttered to the floor. What was…? Folded paper. She tossed the pillow onto the bed and bent down to pick it up.

The words on the crinkled paper took her breath. “It’s a love letter.”

Sinking onto the floor, she read on. With each new word, her intrigue grew. It didn’t have a name at the beginning and was signed with only an H.

Tess read the words before the final letter, “Forever yours.”

Running her thumb over the sentiment, the blurred watermark beneath could only be the circle of a fallen teardrop. Who was H? Who was he writing to? It stood to reason that her mother was the recipient, except her name didn’t appear.

“Even after all these years. You’re the only one, C.”

C? Anne didn’t begin with a C. Who was the letter for?

Other odd references perplexed her.

“I wanted you to have a fresh start, to have a chance at a real normal life. Crazy, right? I stole any chance you had for that after ML’s.”

“I fantasize about Miami, about how it was when our eyes met, when you took my hand.”

While the letter wasn’t quite written in code, it wasn’t explicit either… Well, no, it was explicit in a different way, intimately explicit.

“Just your touch got me hard, I don’t know how you did that, how you still do. You’ve mesmerized me. I am yours, Angel.”

The paper wasn’t new. Without an envelope, it was impossible to tell which of their many addresses it had been sent to. Damn. A postmark would’ve narrowed down the date of receipt too.

“Even after all these years…” the sender had written.

How many years? And why pick up contact again?

Pouncing onto her knees, Tess set the letter on the nightstand and opened the top drawer. Without knowing exactly what she was looking for, her hands ran through makeup and medications. Nothing unusual jumped out, so she checked the other drawers.

An envelope, or semi-finished response, would give her a better chance at figuring out the mysterious H. It didn’t make sense. Anne wasn’t a letter writer. They weren’t allowed to have computers or phones, other than the occasional burner for work purposes. Limiting their use of technology was one of her mother’s strictest rules.

On occasion, they would go to an internet café, but it wasn’t like she had anyone to email. Even if people gave contact information, Tess wasn’t allowed to use it. In fact, Anne would burn anything that might identify anyone they’d interacted with.

The letter was so against the “rules” that it ignited a need to know more. After rifling through the closet and clothes, Tess came up empty. They traveled light. They weren’t supposed to have sentimental attachments to objects. In previous cities, her mother had packed and readied them to flee before Tess got home from work. Sometimes it happened that fast.

Concentrate. Concentrate.

The urn was by the letter on the nightstand.

Her mom was gone.

Despite going through the procedures of identifying her mom’s body and arranging the cremation, it was still difficult to grasp that Anne wasn’t around anymore.

“Who is H, Momma? What were you hiding?”

Anne could be tight-lipped to the point of infuriating. It wasn’t a revelation that there were secrets between them. Protecting Tess when she was a child, sure, understandable, but Anne could’ve been more open in her later years.

Her later years. It was insane. Dead at fifty-one. They weren’t supposed to be the later years of Anne’s life. The woman was supposed to be in her prime. Happy. Free.

They would never be free. No, not “they.” She would never be free.

Determination crackled and gathered mass, heating her insides. Tess didn’t understand. Wouldn’t understand until she knew the truth. Why had they been running her whole life?

Angry resolve wrapped around her heart, fracturing and exploding, forcing her onto her feet. Fear and doubt faded. Losing her mom was a high price to pay, but it meant there was nothing left to lose. A woman without ties was without vulnerability.

If the letter was intended for her mother, it was a consolation to learn Anne had experienced love. Not that romance was a life goal. Control was the ultimate purpose. She wouldn’t spiral, wouldn’t keep running until the day a random event stole her life. The futility was as glaring as a neon billboard on a dark street. Anne chose to run. Tess wouldn’t.

Ah! An epiphany. There was one thing her mom took everywhere. On the occasions they’d fled with only what they could grab, Anne always snatched the small hard-shell cosmetics case that fit in her hand. The backpack under the bed. It was kept in the backpack.

Dropping to her knees, she dragged out the bag. In the past, she’d never been allowed to touch the cosmetics case, which explained why guilt swamped her when she fished it out. Like a child sneaking a hand into the cookie jar, she glanced around as she pressed the button to release the clasp.

When it popped, the edges fell open, sending a flutter of paper to the floor. Something solid hit the hardwood, but all she could see was faded white. Regaining her senses, she picked up the closest sheet. The writing inside matched that of the first letter. All of them bore identical handwriting.

Prying into the personal papers at any other time would be wrong. Tess didn’t see that she had any other choice. Putting the case on the floor, she gathered up the scattered pages and began to read. One after the other, after the other. Letter upon letter. None were dated, and none contained any names.

“As long as I’m a slave to the Darkness, nothing will be right and the Light will never be free.”

“I’ve seen what the Darkness has done to PK.”

“Remember the glitter? When you’re ready, you know our code.”

The pages weren’t in order. Even if they were organized, she doubted they’d be easier to follow. Still, the words drew her in.

“…rambling about our past and the mistakes I made. You’re the only one who suffers. I got all the positives and none of the burden. You shoulder it all and I’m not there to carry it with you.”

Questions mounted up about H and his affair with C.

“Your gorgeous smile, your satin smooth skin, the sweet taste of your kiss. You torment me, even from a thousand miles away. One day I will have your kiss again, that’s all that keeps me going.”

“Everything I am is because of you, every cell in my body aches for yours. I would’ve left this earth long ago if I hadn’t…”

“Saying goodbye to you is more than I ever thought I’d live to endure. You were right, they won.”

Love shone from H’s words.

“…I dream of you, of us being together like we were before.”

“I have no right to ask you to wait. I can’t tell you when or how I’ll be with you again. I have taken too much from you already. You deserve happiness. You deserve the world and I wish I could give it to you. I wish I could’ve been a man worthy of you.”

The couple’s intimacy haunted him.

“That’s what I see when I close my eyes at night, when I think of you, of being with you, all I can feel is love.”

“Memories of your body, of being inside you, it is my curse and my salvation.”

“You don’t deserve this and I can make it right. I can free the Light. Give me purpose, Angel. I can get us back together again. It’s time. I miss you too much to wait any longer. I’ve already missed my chance to be with you. One day I’ll turn around and you’ll be gone for good.”

Emotion wasn’t the only thing revealed. Hints of knowledge teased her.

“You are my meaning and my reason. Tearing me away from you ignited a fire they’ll never be able to control.”

“Angel, I pledge my love to you, but can only promise you vengeance.”

“If they suspect anything, I’m worried they will take preemptive steps. You need to get out. Leave where you are as soon as you get this message.”

“You can’t snatch a man’s hope from him and expect to get away easy.”

The vague statements frustrated her desire for answers.

“You hid yourself well, but you can’t stay put, it’s still too dangerous.”

“They have no fucking idea what you saved them from.”

“…life wouldn’t hurt you that I ever would’ve let you go? That sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. I won’t let you erase two decades of sacrifice.”

Wearing a persistent frown was giving her a headache. Rubbing her forehead, Tess went back and forth on whether the letters belonged to her mom. A big piece of the puzzle was missing. Figuring it out would take more than reading a few letters. Her focus snagged on the urn.

“Who is he?”

If she’d found the letters while her mother was alive, maybe a reply would’ve been forthcoming. Reading H’s absorbing words again, Tess tried to get a deeper sense of him.

“My word is steel that was no lie.”

“You told me I didn’t have to choose, that you would never ask me to.”

He carried a burden of his own.

“My nightmares are filled with images of your devastation, of witnessing your heart breaking. Watching you walk away broke mine.”

“I don’t doubt that we’ll go down one day, maybe soon, who knows? When we do, we’ll go together. I have to be there, C. I have to.”

Anne had always been aware of something behind them, something chasing them, watching them, tracking them. The letters confirmed the danger was real. Whatever the threat, it was no fantasy. Maybe it was this H. Maybe he was their pursuer; the shadow stalking them.

“Run far away, as far as you can get, as fast as you can. Lose yourself so I will never be able to find you.”

“Don’t tell me to admit any truth! I love you and if I have to smother the Darkness with my own bare hands to keep you safe that’s what I’ll do. This isn’t over, C. No fucking way. If you think that I’m going to give up and forget…”

Tess wouldn’t forget either. The journey ahead would have to be thought out one step at a time. Her mom didn’t carry a purse, but the cops had given Tess what they found in their Corvette. At least what was found by people who weren’t really looking.

Gathering up the letters, she put them back in the cosmetics clutch and shoved it to the back of a nightstand drawer. After a quick stop in her room to grab the necessary ID, Tess was down the stairs and out the door on a mission.

Her purpose was to identify the threat. It may be one Anne never wished her to have, but she would live with disappointing her mother’s memory if it meant uncovering the truth.

THREE

IT DIDN’T OCCUR TO Tess to look for a payphone; her mother’s conditioning was still in full force. There probably weren’t any nearby anyway. She’d been at the police precinct asking questions when the sight of one on the wall put the idea in her head.

The desk clerk initially tried to redirect her to their website and requested she send an email. No one understood another person not having an email address or a smartphone. Faced with her dogged persistence, the guy relented and gave her the answer that she wanted.

Pausing at the open chain-link gates, Tess read the sign. “Buckhorn Parts and Towing,” she said. “Salvage and scrap.”

High wooden and chain-link fences enclosed the perimeter. The twine of razor-wire on top suggested the site was in tune with its security needs… or paranoid. The office was a single level unit, quite small considering the substantial size of the junkyard. The curve of a silver Airstream trailer protruded from behind the structure. Maybe someone lived on the land, or stuck around to protect it after hours. That was a relief. With the time already passed five, Tess had worried the business might be closed.

The door handle of the concrete building was stiff, but she pushed it down and yanked open the heavy door. Inside it became clear that the person responsible for running Buckhorn Parts and Towing didn’t care much about cleanliness. The thin industrial carpet was caked with trodden in muck. So much so that she couldn’t hazard a guess as to its original color.

All around, on every wall, were posters of cars, price lists and specs. Interspersed were a few posters advertising different car related products. Behind the cluttered counter was a calendar open to an unashamed centerfold, wearing only the tiniest thong. Like Barbie, but bustier and with glistening come-to-bed eyes. The model had so much weight on top that Tess doubted she’d be able to stand up.

A small section of the L-shaped counter was cleared, just enough to keep a button on show. The crusty laminated note above said, “Ring for attention.” So that was exactly what she did.

With the distraction of the blonde and the posters, it was difficult to make out the narrow door on the opposite wall. Few people would notice it. Staying alert in a new environment was second nature for Tess.

The door opened, releasing a cloud of white smoke. Waving her hand in front of her face, she tried to waft the obvious smell away while a tall, dark-haired guy moseyed in. Coupling the scent to his heavy eyes, it didn’t take long to put the pieces together.

Shock powered her voice. “Are you high?”

He didn’t focus. His grubby coveralls were open to his hips showing that his tee-shirt was in pretty much the same state as the carpet.

Smacking his lips, he yawned and laid a hand on the center of his torso. “Hmm?”

Her grief hung as a weighted anger in her gut. Dragging it around took effort, but the heat of it fueled her resolve.

Setting both hands on the counter, Tess wasn’t in the mood to play. “Are you the person in charge?”

“Right now, I think, yeah,” he said, flexing his shoulders to stretch his back. “Work’s a bitch, right? There’s gotta be a better way than slogging all day.” From where she was standing, he didn’t let work prevent him from taking it easy. “Lay it on me.”

“Excuse me?”

He propped himself against the closed door. “Can’t give you what you want until you ask for it,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking in a brief lazy smile.

When he folded his thick arms over his broad chest, Tess noticed the patch on his left pec bearing a name. “Danny? Is that your name?”

He tipped his shoulder her way, as if to present the name on his coveralls. “‘Less I put on someone else’s duds yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

On a shrug, he licked his lips again. “Just messin’. Wanna get something to eat?”

“What? No!”

“I’m hungry,” he muttered, looking left and right like he might find something delicious lying around.

Tess rubbed her temple. “What is wrong with you?”

“Geez, lady, loosen up,” he said like she was killing his buzz. “Who fucking died?”

Well, if that wasn’t just the absolute wrong thing to say.

Slamming a hand on the counter, Tess lunged toward him. “Funny you should ask, my mom did. I am trying to find the vehicle she died in. Cops said it was here.”

He took the news in his stride, with no sign of contrition or humility. “Makes you Little Red,” he said, boosting his shoulder off the wall.

“What?”

“Corvette.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing he was paying attention. “Yeah. It’s a Corvette.”

Slapping a heavy hand onto the book that lay by the register, he dragged it along the counter toward himself. “Obviously not a music fan.”

“I know Little Red Corvette, thank you very much.”

Opening the book, he licked his dirty fingers to leaf through the smudged pages. Mechanics dealt with a lot of grime, grease, and oil. Filth, she supposed, was part of the job.

“Offend you?” he asked, glancing up.

“If you’re calling me easy, yes.”

Though, in truth, all of her sexual encounters were of the brief and easy variety. Necessity kept them that way. Tess and her mom adopted a “don’t-ask, don’t-tell” policy on that score.

“Free spirited,” he said, trying to show her a smile. The lines on his brow suggested his smoking was starting to catch up with him. “If you were easy, we’d be in my trailer already.”

“That’s you who lives back there?”

He flicked over another page. “Surprised?”

“Yeah,” she said without shame. “I figured whoever stayed back there had to be responsible for security… You don’t seem like the type.”

“To handle myself?”

“Uh, no,” Tess said because she couldn’t deny the strength of his physique. “The type to care.”

He snickered. “Yeah, maybe, Little Red…” Slapping a hand onto the page, he ran a fingertip along a line of text. “We’ve got it in the yard, not much left.”

Her gusto shrank. “I knew that.”

The guy at the morgue had resisted providing a list of injuries. At that point, all they had were the cursory results, but those were enough to make the truth obvious. Her mom hadn’t stood a chance.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

Lost in her own thoughts, Tess hadn’t noticed him coming around the counter. His eyes were still heavy and his hair a mess, but his solid form was more commanding than she’d given him credit for on first sight. The guy was ridiculously tall. In that moment, there was something comforting about his height and obvious capability. So comforting that for a split second, she envied him. Maybe not giving a crap wouldn’t be such a bad way to live.

Since learning about the accident, she’d had no one to talk to, no one to comfort her. She hadn’t even cried. Not really. Every time sadness crept in, she pushed it aside to focus on the practical. Things needed to be done. Places visited. Arrangements made.

When she caught a glimmer of discernment in Danny, she cleared her throat and took a step back. The last thing she needed to do was gain the curiosity of the junkyard lackey, even if there was zero chance of ever seeing him again.

“Lead the way,” she said.

He might not care that her mother was dead, but he’d done her a favor by skipping over the expected ID requirement. The car was registered to her. To one of her identities. The ID she’d brought was fake, they all were. Tess didn’t even know her real last name.

Danny took her outside and led her past a few rows of crushed cars. “Want to grab a drink later?”

Women probably weren’t common around a junkyard, so Tess didn’t read too much into the invitation. Being an attractive guy, he wouldn’t have to work hard for attention from the opposite sex.

“Do you ask out every woman who comes by here?” she asked to avoid answering the question.

He puffed out his cheeks. “Sometimes they ask me.”

Watching the ground, she hid her smile. “I’ll bet.”

“Cut loose, Little Red. Let’s go crazy.”

At least the guy was a Prince fan; there was hope for him yet.

“Thanks,” she said, trying not to focus on his heat permeating her way. “But I’m seeing someone tonight.”

The yard opened out beyond the trailer. A bunch of heavy machines and equipment were intermingled with piles of twisted, gnarled metal.

Danny stopped and pointed. At first, Tess didn’t have a clue what he was pointing at. When she saw the streak of red paint and realized that was her car, her mouth opened in shock.

“Need us to tow it somewhere for you?”

“No, I…” Tess was in a daze. “You can keep it. I just… I have to check something.”

“Need help?”

“No,” she said, forcing herself to smile at him. “You’ve been very helpful, Danny. Thank you.”

Bobbing his head in acceptance, he walked backwards. “I’m always around if you change your mind.” She widened her tight smile and nodded. “Food, drink, whatever…” Opening his arms at his sides, the corner of his mouth rose, revealing an endearing dimple. “Stop by the trailer sometime, Little Red. I’ll rev your engine. No charge.”

At a different time, the blatant invitation may have made her laugh. It just wasn’t in her, so Tess raised a hand to wave instead.

Surveying the damaged vehicle, only one word came to mind: horrifying. Once it was the ultimate birthday gift. How her mom saved money and kept the purchase a secret still impressed her. A little red Corvette. Just like she’d always wanted… Its glory days were gone. Long gone.

Without question, there had been impact in more than one place. Did the car spin out and pinball off every obstacle in its careening path? She couldn’t imagine the terror. Fear like that, so complete and consuming… warmth gathered at her lashes.

At times, the turbulence of their life caused friction between them. Even though “normal” didn’t feature in her upbringing, Tess shouldn’t have taken their relationship for granted. Anne’s last thought would’ve been reserved for her daughter. Tess didn’t doubt it. She should’ve been there, should’ve been with her…

Guilt roused her anger again. Squeezing her eyes closed, Tess got it together. Giving in to emotion wouldn’t help either of them. Anne, if she was looking down, needed to witness her daughter’s strength. Anything less than complete fortitude would be an insult to her memory. Forging on, no matter what, was imperative.

Putting aside the devastating mental images of her mother’s last moments, she refused to be a victim to grief.

Grabbing the warped car door to yank it out of her way, she crouched down and examined every crevice. After going through all the usual places in the door, center console and ashtray, she went to the other side and did the same again. Nothing in the glovebox, nothing under the seats.

The frame was so twisted that the trunk release didn’t work. She found a crowbar by one of the machines and wedged it into the space between lid and chassis. The damn thing wouldn’t budge. Her muscles worked overtime until her feet lifted from the ground, but she wouldn’t be defeated. Even if it took all night, Tess would get the trunk open.

“Don’t fucking test me,” she growled, ignoring the burn in her arms.

It yielded to her command and burst open. Dropping the crowbar, she grabbed the edge of the car so she wouldn’t follow it down.

The triumph was short-lived. No clues lay around in the trunk, above or below the liner. It was empty.

But Tess wasn’t done yet.

Returning to the body of the car, she hauled out the mats. That was when she saw it. In the passenger foot-well, a small, white rectangle.

Sinking onto the hard ground by the car, Tess picked it up and whispered the printed word. “Pandora.”

Touching the letters, she wondered what they meant. On the other side was another name in smaller, bolder print. “Russell Figgs, PI.”

No answers. Nothing made sense. Her mother would never go to a PI, not in a zillion years. Unless… Maybe she didn’t know what the letters meant either. But using an outsider meant making a connection. Telling a story. Anne wouldn’t tell her own daughter; it was unlikely she’d tell a stranger. Would she?

As Tess stared at the black letters, she caught sight of the time on her watch. “Shit,” she said, leaping to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jeans.

Friday meant drinks with Patrick. They had a standing date. It was Tess’s habit to keep everyone at arm’s length, but a sounding board may help her make sense of what she’d found that day.

FOUR

GOING HOME TO CHANGE for her date was a blur. Preoccupied, Tess could only think about the letters and vague business card. That was probably why she’d blurted out their discovery to Patrick.

Seated opposite each other at a table in the window of the bar, she’d held court most of the night. “It just feels like…”

“Your mom was keeping secrets,” Patrick said and shrugged. “Most people do, Tess.”

“I know, but we were close. Why wouldn’t she tell me if there was something I needed to know?”

“Maybe you didn’t need to know. Your mom got a few love letters, you don’t even know what year they were from. They could’ve been written decades ago… or maybe she just found them somewhere and liked the sentiment. You said her name wasn’t in them. Maybe it felt wrong leaving them behind. You moved a lot, right?”

Her shoulders sagged as she sank back in her chair. “I know.”

That possibility had occurred to her too. They couldn’t have new relationships, not lasting ones. Why wouldn’t her mom hold onto the old ones or embrace the fantasy of someone else’s?

“If they were hers, it should feel good that she had someone who cared for her like that.”

In frustration, Tess balled her fists on the table and sat up straight again. “I know. Don’t you think I know that? I just… When did it change? Does that mean she had this whole other life before me? That she…”

Patrick didn’t know her past. No one would understand it. Her mother always dissuaded her from telling any one person too much. During her retelling of the day, of the week, the sensitive details were omitted on purpose. It wasn’t Patrick’s fault that she was tired and frustrated. On hearing of her mother’s death, he’d said all the right things, but he didn’t get it. No one could.

“Maybe they are from before you or maybe she had a relationship while you were a kid or something,” he said, obviously trying to appease her. “You weren’t together twenty-four seven and no one remembers much from when they were super young.”

Maybe. Maybe. Everything was maybe. That wasn’t good enough.

Her anchor was gone. Aimless drifting wasn’t her style. Without her mom, she needed stability, something to lean on. She didn’t know how to be alone. What it was to be completely alone.

Her future alone. Just like her mom’s past… alone. Anne never spoke of parents or siblings, or any other family. She’d assumed that there wasn’t any. What had her mom’s life looked like before becoming “mom”?

When had it changed?

They’d always been on the run. Had her mom’s life always been the same?

Losing her mother was a sucker punch, but that was no excuse for believing they’d always have time. Complacency was to blame. Questions were met with “there isn’t time for that now” while her mom packed or panicked. In her naivety, it was easy to think her mother would get around to telling her everything sometime.

In spite of the mantras, the awareness, the vigilance, Tess hadn’t understood the urgency. She hadn’t grasped how precious life was or how quickly it could be snuffed out. Apparently, neither had her mom.

“You need to relax,” Patrick said, reaching over the table to take her hand. “You’re grieving. I remember when Toby passed, it was such a shock. Took me weeks to come to terms with it.”

Unimpressed, her attention ascended. “Toby was your mom’s dog.”

“Yeah,” he said and shrugged. “But we’d had him since I was a kid. Place just wasn’t the same without him.” Patrick smiled. “You need to relax. Just go crazy. Do something fun and insane… We can go to that club across town, the one with the podiums. We’ll dance the night away.”

Her idea of a nightmare. Picking up her drink, Tess downed the rest of her cocktail. “Thanks, but I… I’m just not in the mood.”

“Trust me,” he said, gathering their empty glasses. “We’ll get another one here and then head over there. Letting loose really makes a difference. It helps you forget for a while and that’s exactly what you need.”

He got up to walk over to the bar, leaving her alone. Tess couldn’t think of anything worse than being in a crush of people, screaming over music trying to be heard. Though forgetting for a while sounded incredible, oblivion wouldn’t be easy to reach. She’d have to do something really nuts or get really drunk. Alcohol didn’t usually make her forget anything. Going overboard with booze wasn’t smart. Her mother had drummed in the importance of keeping her wits.

“Someone always wants to hurt you,” Tess whispered, her focus drifting to the street. “Everyone is a threat. Paranoia keeps us alive.”

Her mother’s mantras seemed ironic now. In the end, Anne had been the one to hurt herself. Not on purpose, sure, but still. Paranoia hadn’t kept her alive. Paranoia probably contributed to her death. If her mom’s concentration had been on the road, maybe she wouldn’t have skidded off.

What Tess really needed was to feel something other than the grinding pressure of unknowns piling up. Sex was the only thing ever capable of taking her out of the moment and erasing her worries… temporarily anyway.

Patrick was still at the bar. They’d met a few weeks ago during one of her nightclub shifts. No doubt the guy was cute, but people insinuating themselves into her life was her mother’s biggest red flag. He was the closest thing to a friend she’d had for a long time. They’d enjoyed a few make out sessions with some heavy petting, but she’d never been tempted to bring him to her bed.

Cute wouldn’t untie her knot of frustration and grief. Friendship wasn’t the remedy either. Patrick was not the definition of going crazy. He was synonymous for vanilla. Okay, so she didn’t want anything kinky, but she did want something… wild. Something completely insane. Being safe wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Anne’s warnings were like tribal drums beating in the back of her brain.

“Be in control,” Tess repeated another of her mother’s mantras. “Never be led. Be the leader.”

Anyone could be a threat, which was why no man had warmed her sheets more than once. Patrick was on the precipice and didn’t know it. Sleeping with him would be a terrible idea. After so many dates, he’d think they were beginning something. In truth, if she talked to a guy, she’d never sleep with him. Sex had to be quick and dirty. Had to be once and never followed up. In short, if they did it, they’d be done. She couldn’t bring herself to cut loose the only other living person who knew her name.

Grabbing her shawl from the back of her chair, she kept her attention on Patrick. With his back to her, he had the attention of the bartender. Good, so she could just… Tess swept her clutch from the tabletop and dashed out. The guy didn’t deserve to be ditched, but that didn’t make him what she needed.

Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders to fend off the night, she folded her arms. It wasn’t too cold; the air smelled good. Any free air smelled good. Wait. Free? No. There was no such thing.

Nothing made sense.

After a few blocks, she stopped on a corner and cursed herself. This wasn’t living. It wasn’t life. Worrying about her mother’s past and the secret message in the car was driving her nuts. Go crazy. Twice she’d been told that. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe her mom wasn’t the one with the mental health problem.

If Tess hadn’t had one before, one would be creeping up on her soon.

She needed to clear her mind. To let loose. Talking was overrated. Going into any of the bars would involve playing the flirting game. She’d have to catch someone’s eye, smile, look away, look back, bat her eyelashes. Be funny. Be charming, alluring, seductive.

“Fuck that,” she said to herself and marched across the street, away from the bustle.

Small talk and flirtations were unnecessary. All she wanted was to be pushed down and taken hard. To clear her senses, sharpen her view of the big picture. Feeling anything other than numb despair or infuriating frustration would be an improvement.

Keyed up, she raised a hand to hail a cab. Adrenaline was rising. Faster. Faster. The cab took less than ten minutes to get to her destination. The gates were open, and a light shone from inside the office. Though a huge tow truck blocked the majority of the building. If her plan didn’t come to fruition, she’d be even more frustrated. The potent, pressurized need for release was reaching fever pitch.