if our guy decides he wants the information and picks up one of them?”
Julie’s face went ashen and it was all Troy could do to keep from smacking himself in the head. Not the right thing to say at this moment in time.
“You think this guy will go after my mom or Cal or someone who knows me?” She tossed the medication bottles in her bag. “That’s it. We’re going home. If my leaving puts them in just as much danger as it does when I’m there, then I may as well stay.”
The phone quit ringing and Troy stopped her, pulled her in front of him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I doubt it will happen. My point is I don’t want to take the chance. All it takes is one person to spill it to the wrong person and if word gets out then...” He let the sentence dangle.
“I just can’t stand that people are getting hurt because of...” She couldn’t finish her sentence and tears pooled in her eyes.
“I know.” He pulled her against him and held tight, took in the sweet smell of her. “I know.”
But honestly, he didn’t know jack shit. Someone could hurt her, a relative or a friend. Someone could be following them right now, waiting for the exact right moment to pounce. Troy concentrated on Julie and her safety. It was the only thing he could do.
* * *
Julie slept another two hours in the car, then after a phone call to the detectives on the case, who told her they had exactly nothing, she started reading one of her three psychology books. She didn’t say anything to Troy. She didn’t know what to say. The farther she got from home, the more worried she became for her friends and family.
Would someone really hurt the people she loved just to find her? It didn’t seem real. This whole scenario seemed out of left field. She had to believe that leaving town kept everyone safer than if she stayed. Her mother was the perfect example.
“How about we stop for some lunch,” Troy said from the driver’s seat.
“Whatever.” She wasn’t very hungry, mainly because when she worried she didn’t eat.
“There’s a diner about thirty miles away,” he said.
“Where are we anyway?” she asked, glancing outside. The desert terrain from hours ago had morphed into a forest of thick green pine trees and cooler air.
“Utah,” Troy said.
She’d gone skiing in Park City once and she’d always planned to come back. She never would’ve guessed her return trip would be like this.
Julie closed the book in her hands. She could barely focus on the medical and psychological jargon used in the text. She reached into her bag and pulled out Ari’s script. Another half hour would give her a chance to make notes in the first act. This script had held her attention from page one. A psychological thriller. Funny how the timing of this movie should work out with the turn her life had taken.
Maybe that explained why she fidgeted with her utensils and napkin at the table in the diner. Maybe now wasn’t the time to be reading about all the psychoses that triggered people to do crazy, unjustifiable acts. What she needed to know for the upcoming role was why seemingly normal people let other people decide their life, their fate. Was it chemical, hormonal, or was it simply the need to please beyond all reason? The research for the movie inadvertently turned into an expedition on finding why someone might be after her, but so far she’d come up empty.
The small eatery buzzed at half capacity. A toddler cried two tables away and three boisterous truckers sat at the counter and kept each other laughing. The smell of fresh-baked apple pie had Julie’s mouth watering.
Troy leaned forward, his voice low. “Want to talk about it?” He’d been so sweet this whole trip even when she’d been a pain in the ass. It wasn’t his fault that someone wanted her dead.
She shrugged and met his gaze as she scratched at the itch under her stupid brown wig. “What’s to talk about? I’m worried about everyone I left behind.” She’d already made a second call to the police, who still had nothing to tell her.
“I know. I don’t blame you.” He leaned forward, his forearms on the table. He had big hands. She remembered all the things he’d done to her with those hands. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I do