Read Online Criminal Intent (MIRA) by Laurie Breton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laurie Breton
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You’re also strong and resourceful. You’ll do fine. Just remember why you’re doing it. Listen, you got enough money to get by?”
“I do. I’m very frugal.” He’d already done so much for her—in terms of financial and emotional support—that it was staggering to think about. She owed him so much, she’d probably never be able to repay him. She had to take it from here without his help.
“Youlet me know if you need anything. How’s the little one doing?”
“Sophie’s fine. A little miffed, maybe, at being dragged clear across the country. But she’s a trouper.”
“Just like her mother. You get some sleep, now, you hear?”
She hung up the phone, not sure whether she felt better or worse. She’d prayed that Brogan would just give up, let her go. Out of sight, out of mind. She realized now that it was a foolish, naive hope. The information in that manila envelope could destroy his life. A man like Luke Brogan wouldn’t let that happen. He was tough, he was hard, he was relentless. And he would mow down anybody who stood in his way.
Remember why you’re doing it. Uncle Bobby was right. She had to focus, had to keep reminding herself that she was doing this for her daughter. She’d forced herself to walk away from the life she and Mac had built together, forced herself to become a stranger in order to keep herself and her daughter alive.
It had taken some getting used to, but she hardly ever slipped up any more. She hardly ever reacted when she heard the name Robin spoken in a crowd. She’d come to think of herself as Annie, had spent hour after hour practicing writing her new name, until it became second nature to her. Repetition was the key. Train the hand as well as the mind. It was like remembering to write the new year on every check you wrote after December 31. After enough times, you didn’t have to stop and think about it anymore. It just came naturally.
She closed down the laptop, walked barefoot to the bedroom door and opened it silently. Sophie lay in a slender thread of moonlight, bedding bunched up at the foot of the bed, her lanky limbs flung out wildly in every direction. It was true, what she’d told Uncle Bobby. Her daughter was a trouper. When she’d decided that it was time for Sophie to knowthe truth about why they’d run away and just how precarious their situation was, her daughter had tried hard to understand.
“Try to think of it like this,” Annie had told her. “Haven’t you ever had a secret fantasy about becoming somebody different? Living somebody else’s life? Changing everything about yourself and starting over again?”
Her daughter had shrugged. “I suppose. Everybody feels that way sometimes.”
“Well, here’s your chance.”
Sophie had considered her words for a very long time. “But if we become different people, will that mean Dad isn’t my father any more?”
Annie’s heart had ached for her almost-fifteen-year-old daughter. “Of course not! No matter what you call yourself, it doesn’t change who you really are inside. Daddy will always be your father.”
“But won’t he be mad at us if we change our name? Spinney was his dad’s name, and his dad’s before that.”
“Absolutely not.” Annie had threaded fingers with her daughter, clasping hands tightly. “Right now, your dad is so proud of what we’re doing that he’s watching over us, every step of the way.”
“You mean like a guardian angel?”
“Exactly.”
Sophie had pondered the situation a little longer. “Can I still be Sophie?”
“Absolutely. You’ll just be Sophie Kendall instead of Sophie Spinney.”
“Fine,” she’d said. And that had been that.
Now, with a wobbly smile, Annie blew her daughter a kiss and silently closed the bedroom door.
The couch she’d bought from Trader Moe was every bit as lumpy as she’d expected. Wrapping herself in a soft blanket, shepunched her pillow into a tight ball and closed her eyes. They’d made it this far
“I do. I’m very frugal.” He’d already done so much for her—in terms of financial and emotional support—that it was staggering to think about. She owed him so much, she’d probably never be able to repay him. She had to take it from here without his help.
“Youlet me know if you need anything. How’s the little one doing?”
“Sophie’s fine. A little miffed, maybe, at being dragged clear across the country. But she’s a trouper.”
“Just like her mother. You get some sleep, now, you hear?”
She hung up the phone, not sure whether she felt better or worse. She’d prayed that Brogan would just give up, let her go. Out of sight, out of mind. She realized now that it was a foolish, naive hope. The information in that manila envelope could destroy his life. A man like Luke Brogan wouldn’t let that happen. He was tough, he was hard, he was relentless. And he would mow down anybody who stood in his way.
Remember why you’re doing it. Uncle Bobby was right. She had to focus, had to keep reminding herself that she was doing this for her daughter. She’d forced herself to walk away from the life she and Mac had built together, forced herself to become a stranger in order to keep herself and her daughter alive.
It had taken some getting used to, but she hardly ever slipped up any more. She hardly ever reacted when she heard the name Robin spoken in a crowd. She’d come to think of herself as Annie, had spent hour after hour practicing writing her new name, until it became second nature to her. Repetition was the key. Train the hand as well as the mind. It was like remembering to write the new year on every check you wrote after December 31. After enough times, you didn’t have to stop and think about it anymore. It just came naturally.
She closed down the laptop, walked barefoot to the bedroom door and opened it silently. Sophie lay in a slender thread of moonlight, bedding bunched up at the foot of the bed, her lanky limbs flung out wildly in every direction. It was true, what she’d told Uncle Bobby. Her daughter was a trouper. When she’d decided that it was time for Sophie to knowthe truth about why they’d run away and just how precarious their situation was, her daughter had tried hard to understand.
“Try to think of it like this,” Annie had told her. “Haven’t you ever had a secret fantasy about becoming somebody different? Living somebody else’s life? Changing everything about yourself and starting over again?”
Her daughter had shrugged. “I suppose. Everybody feels that way sometimes.”
“Well, here’s your chance.”
Sophie had considered her words for a very long time. “But if we become different people, will that mean Dad isn’t my father any more?”
Annie’s heart had ached for her almost-fifteen-year-old daughter. “Of course not! No matter what you call yourself, it doesn’t change who you really are inside. Daddy will always be your father.”
“But won’t he be mad at us if we change our name? Spinney was his dad’s name, and his dad’s before that.”
“Absolutely not.” Annie had threaded fingers with her daughter, clasping hands tightly. “Right now, your dad is so proud of what we’re doing that he’s watching over us, every step of the way.”
“You mean like a guardian angel?”
“Exactly.”
Sophie had pondered the situation a little longer. “Can I still be Sophie?”
“Absolutely. You’ll just be Sophie Kendall instead of Sophie Spinney.”
“Fine,” she’d said. And that had been that.
Now, with a wobbly smile, Annie blew her daughter a kiss and silently closed the bedroom door.
The couch she’d bought from Trader Moe was every bit as lumpy as she’d expected. Wrapping herself in a soft blanket, shepunched her pillow into a tight ball and closed her eyes. They’d made it this far
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