responsible. That madman shot the governor. She stalled.
He backed off and said, âYou went to New York, didnât you? You were a writer, I remember. What were you doing in New York?â
âI was writing speeches,â she said easily, âfor bigwigs in various companies. I canât believe you remember that I went to New York.â
âI remember nearly everything about people I like. Why do you need a haven? No, wait, if it isnât any of my business, forget it. Itâs just that Iâm worried about you.â
She wasnât a very good liar, but she had to try. âNo, itâs okay. Iâm getting away from a very bad relationship.â
âYour husband?â
No choice. âYes, my husband. Heâs very possessive. I wanted out and he didnât want to let me go. I thought of Riptide and what youâd said.â She didnât want to tell him about her mother dying. To mix that with a lie was just too much. She managed to shrug and raise her teacup to click it against his. âThanks, Tyler, for being at Dartmouth and talking about your hometown to me.â
âIâm glad youâre here,â he said, his eyes serious upon her face. âIf your husband is after you, how do you know he didnât follow you to the airport? I know New York traffic is nuts, but itâs not all that hard to follow someone, if you really want to.â
âItâs a good thing Iâve read a lot of spy novels and seen lots of police shows.â She told him how sheâd changed taxis three times on the way to Kennedy. âWhen I got out at the United terminal, I was sure no one had followed me. My last driver was one of a vanishing breedâa native New Yorker cabbie. He knew Queens as well as he knew his ex-wifeâs lover, he told me. No one followed me, he was sure of it. I flew to Boston, then on to Portland, and bought myself a used Toyota from Big Frankâs. I drove up here to your haven, and heâll never find me.â
She had no idea whether or not he believed her. Well, all that about her escape from New York was the truth. Sheâd only lied about who she was running from.
âI sure hope youâre right. But I plan to keep an eye on you, Becca Powell.â
She managed to get him to talk about himself. He told her he was a computer consultant, a troubleshooter of sorts, and he designed software programs for major accounting and brokerage firms, âto track clients and money and how the two come together. Iâm successful, Becca, and it feels good. You know, you were the only girl in college who didnât look at me and giggle at what a jerk I was. You called me a nerd and a geek, but that was okay, it was the truth. Do you know weâve got a gym in Riptide? Iâm there three days a week. I find that if I donât work out regularly,I get all skinny again, lose my energy, and want to wear a pocket protector.â
âYouâre sure not skinny now, Tyler.â
âNo,â he said, grinning at her, âIâm not.â
When she showed him out some fifteen minutes later, she wondered again if heâd believed her reason for coming to Riptide. He was a nice guy; sheâd hated to lie to him. She was glad he was here. She wasnât completely alone. She watched him get into his Jeep. He looked up and waved at her, then executed a sharp U-turn. He lived just one street over, on Gum Shoe Lane, but it was a good distance away.
Her house. That felt good. She slowly closed the front door and turned to look at her ancient furnishings. Her mother, the antiques nut, would have shuddered. When Marley Senior had furnished this house, she wondered if heâd ordered anything out of the turn-of-the-century Sears catalogue.
Now that she was settled in, her two suitcases emptied and tucked in the back of her bedroom closet, she decided to explore the town. She locked up the house, got into her car and drove
Morten Storm, Paul Cruickshank, Tim Lister