Read Online Remember to Forget by Deborah Raney - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Deborah Raney
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stolen something, so the police would no doubt be summoned.
She wondered if the Blakelys had figured out yet that she wasn’t coming back. Behind the shop, clumps of scrap metal and concrete seemed to sprout up wherever she set her feet. She ran blindly, instinctively in the direction that would take her farthest from Kevin, and the Blakelys, and everything about the life she’d known before yesterday.
She whipped around, searching for the source of the voice.
Chapter Eleven
I n spite of the heat that still rose from the concrete early the next morning, Maggie shivered on her haunches in the corner of a derelict playground. Last night she’d zigzagged through a dozen city blocks, trying to get as far away from the convenience store as possible. She’d slept for a few hours curled up under a grove of spent lilac bushes. It seemed she’d spent forty of the last forty-eight hours sleeping . . . or pretending to.
The sun rimmed the school buildings beyond the playground in pink. That had to be east—the direction she’d come from. But she was thoroughly lost. She only hoped that meant she was lost to the Blakelys too. And to the police.
How had it come to this? Two days ago she had been the victim of a crime—carjacked on the streets of New York. Nowshe was the criminal. A virtual fugitive from the law, for all she knew.
She reached up to touch her hair. Ugh. It was a tangled mess, laced with leaves and sticks after her night under the lilacs. She felt in her pocket for the comb she’d bought that first night at the bus stop. Careful not to lose the roll of cash, she slid the comb out and did her best to make herself presentable.
But for what? Why hadn’t she thought things through before she’d climbed in the car with those people? Now she was hundreds of miles from home with no way to get back. Sure, Kevin had treated her like a dog. But did she really think life would be any better on her own? At least at the apartment with Kevin she’d had a soft bed to sleep in and food on the table.
Her stomach yowled at the thought. She hadn’t had anything to eat since the cheeseburger at McDonald’s. She’d have to part with a couple of dollars this morning. If she keeled over from hunger, it wouldn’t matter that she had money in her pocket.
She glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then pulled the roll of cash out of her pocket and counted it. She had enough to get a room. She could get cleaned up, get something to eat.
But then what? The answer was disheartening. If she did that, it might not leave her enough cash for the bus. Had she been crazy to think she could survive on her own? Was starving to death, being on the streets homeless, really an improvement over what she’d had with Kevin in New York? If she called him, he’d surely help her get back to the apartment.
Her mind raced, formulating a plan. She’d call from a pay phone, feel him out first. Find out what he knew about the car. If it had turned up in the possession of that jerk who’d carjacked her, maybe Kevin would take pity on her. Maybe he’d believe her story. She could tell him the guy had forced her to drive all the way to Kansas City.
She blew out a puff of air. Yeah, right. Like he’d believe that. Besides, he always knew exactly how many miles were on the Honda. Unless the carjacker had taken it on one whale of a joyride, Kevin would know she was lying the minute he checked the odometer.
She fingered a twenty-dollar bill. If she hung out here in this empty playground, found a grocery store and bought a few snacks, she probably had enough money to last a few days.
But what then? She had no ID with her, she didn’t own a credit card. She had no way to get into Kevin’s bank account. Even if she had, using an ATM card would clue him in to her whereabouts in a flash. Besides, if he figured out what she’d done, he would close the bank accounts she knew about as soon as the bank opened this morning—if he hadn’t
She wondered if the Blakelys had figured out yet that she wasn’t coming back. Behind the shop, clumps of scrap metal and concrete seemed to sprout up wherever she set her feet. She ran blindly, instinctively in the direction that would take her farthest from Kevin, and the Blakelys, and everything about the life she’d known before yesterday.
She whipped around, searching for the source of the voice.
Chapter Eleven
I n spite of the heat that still rose from the concrete early the next morning, Maggie shivered on her haunches in the corner of a derelict playground. Last night she’d zigzagged through a dozen city blocks, trying to get as far away from the convenience store as possible. She’d slept for a few hours curled up under a grove of spent lilac bushes. It seemed she’d spent forty of the last forty-eight hours sleeping . . . or pretending to.
The sun rimmed the school buildings beyond the playground in pink. That had to be east—the direction she’d come from. But she was thoroughly lost. She only hoped that meant she was lost to the Blakelys too. And to the police.
How had it come to this? Two days ago she had been the victim of a crime—carjacked on the streets of New York. Nowshe was the criminal. A virtual fugitive from the law, for all she knew.
She reached up to touch her hair. Ugh. It was a tangled mess, laced with leaves and sticks after her night under the lilacs. She felt in her pocket for the comb she’d bought that first night at the bus stop. Careful not to lose the roll of cash, she slid the comb out and did her best to make herself presentable.
But for what? Why hadn’t she thought things through before she’d climbed in the car with those people? Now she was hundreds of miles from home with no way to get back. Sure, Kevin had treated her like a dog. But did she really think life would be any better on her own? At least at the apartment with Kevin she’d had a soft bed to sleep in and food on the table.
Her stomach yowled at the thought. She hadn’t had anything to eat since the cheeseburger at McDonald’s. She’d have to part with a couple of dollars this morning. If she keeled over from hunger, it wouldn’t matter that she had money in her pocket.
She glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then pulled the roll of cash out of her pocket and counted it. She had enough to get a room. She could get cleaned up, get something to eat.
But then what? The answer was disheartening. If she did that, it might not leave her enough cash for the bus. Had she been crazy to think she could survive on her own? Was starving to death, being on the streets homeless, really an improvement over what she’d had with Kevin in New York? If she called him, he’d surely help her get back to the apartment.
Her mind raced, formulating a plan. She’d call from a pay phone, feel him out first. Find out what he knew about the car. If it had turned up in the possession of that jerk who’d carjacked her, maybe Kevin would take pity on her. Maybe he’d believe her story. She could tell him the guy had forced her to drive all the way to Kansas City.
She blew out a puff of air. Yeah, right. Like he’d believe that. Besides, he always knew exactly how many miles were on the Honda. Unless the carjacker had taken it on one whale of a joyride, Kevin would know she was lying the minute he checked the odometer.
She fingered a twenty-dollar bill. If she hung out here in this empty playground, found a grocery store and bought a few snacks, she probably had enough money to last a few days.
But what then? She had no ID with her, she didn’t own a credit card. She had no way to get into Kevin’s bank account. Even if she had, using an ATM card would clue him in to her whereabouts in a flash. Besides, if he figured out what she’d done, he would close the bank accounts she knew about as soon as the bank opened this morning—if he hadn’t
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