The Perfect Cover (The Perfect Stranger #2) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,2
convicts after all. Maybe they trailed us and took him while I was inside.
But wouldn’t they also have questions for me?
Then something else occurs to me.
What if all of this had been a set-up?
What if Tyler just used me to get this car and some money to get the fuck out of here?
Standing in front of the convenience store, my feet suddenly become too heavy to lift. I try to move but I’m either too weak or the gravitational pull of the Earth is too strong. In either case, I’m stuck.
“Miss, are you okay?” someone asks.
I saw him go in a few minutes ago, and now he’s on his way out.
“Did something happen to your car?” he asks. “Did someone take your wallet?”
Soundly, I snap out of my daze and feel around for the bag near my waist.
“No, I’m fine,” I say quickly, pointing to my cross-body purse.
So, that’s why Tyler said that.
A light bulb goes off in my head.
It seemed odd that he handed it to me when I already had my wallet, but I guess he didn’t want to leave me here without… anything.
The Good Samaritan walks away from me, relieved that his help is no longer needed.
I shift my weight from one foot to another as I feel my body start to wake up from the shock.
Now, I have to figure out what to do.
I reach over to my purse and unzip it. I’m in another state and it’s going to cost some money to get back.
But do I have enough?
Searching through my bag, I see a folded up piece of paper. It’s a letter and it’s from him.
Tyler left me.
The world tilts on its axis.
And then I see him.
He pulls up to the curb and gives me that beautiful open mouth smile.
Is this really him? Is this Tyler McDermott?
Cracking the passenger window, he says, “Get in.”
I feel like the wind has just been knocked out of me.
Questioning everything that just happened, I wonder if I had made a mistake.
“Where did you go?” I ask and shut the door behind me.
Why is he back?
What about everything that he had written?
“What do you mean?” Tyler asks as if nothing had happened, even adding a casual shrug. “I just drove around while you shopped. I didn’t want the camera to focus in on our car or me in particular. I thought that we would be harder to track this way.”
Of course, yes, that makes sense.
A wave of relief rushes over me. When I give him a slight nod, he grabs a bag of pretzels from my cold hands and pulls out onto the highway.
I don’t bring up the letter or that I had seen it. I just turn up Bob Dylan and lose myself in the lyrics.
Did I actually read what I think I did?
Was it real?
I look into my purse and feel around for the letter. In the back pocket, I find its thick outline, where it is bent in half.
We drive for a while and I start to doze off. I’ve always been the type of person who needs plenty of sleep just to function through the day. Getting up so early and in the middle of the night has worn me out. At first, I fight my tiredness, but then I close my eyes and drift off, admitting defeat.
I don’t know how much time passes, but it feels like none at all when suddenly, I see his hand rummaging through the bag in my lap.
Is this a dream?
When I open my eyes, it all rushes back to me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Tyler says a little too quickly, like a man who has been caught doing something illicit. “I was just trying to move that so you would be more comfortable.”
I don’t believe him.
Of course not.
He’s lying but I’m lying, too.
We drive for another hour and then another one. I want to bring up the letter, but I’m too tired from the day to talk about anything that serious. I need more sleep.
Later that night, we pull into a Motel 6. It’s a double-decker building with each room’s front door going straight outside. There’s a Denny’s across the street and we talk about getting some food, but I’m not in the mood for anything fast, greasy, or with meat. Luckily, when I check my phone, I learn that there’s a Trader Joe’s only ten minutes away.
I ask Tyler what he wants and he just gives me a big over-exaggerated shrug.
“Whatever you’re going to get is