Читать книгу Conard County Marine - Rachel Lee - Страница 9

Prologue

The talk in town said Kylie Brewer was returning to Conard City with no memory of what had happened to her. That should have made the man who had tried to kill her feel good, knowing she couldn’t identify him, but he didn’t trust her amnesia. He was going to have to keep an eye on her in case she started remembering. The possibility terrified him.

And then there was the fact that she was still alive. That bugged him. She was supposed to have died, vanishing forever from his life. Instead she still breathed and walked and talked.

And she might remember.

He was galled by the fact that he had a score to settle with her. He thought he’d done it when he left her in that alley. Apparently not. Or maybe he had. He couldn’t quite make up his mind about that.

Regardless, the need to take her out hadn’t been satisfied, not completely, and it still nagged at him, made him itch. Kylie Brewer should be dead as physically as her memory had become.

He pushed ideas around in his head, trying to square his needs with reality. She had survived, but she’d lost all her plans and a chunk of her life. Kylie was now damaged goods. Surely he could leave it at that. But part of him wasn’t pleased and probably never would be. An unfinished job.

As long as she didn’t remember, maybe he could live with that. Much as he didn’t like to soil his own nest, if she started remembering, he’d have to act even though it would be harder to cover himself in such a small town.

But he’d deal with that if it became necessary. In the meantime, he just had to remain one of her friends. He had to find ways to be around her, to listen to her, to make her trust him.

In case she remembered.

Somewhere deep inside, much as the possibility frightened him, he hoped she would because then he wouldn’t have to argue with himself anymore. The decision would be made for him; the internal uncertainty would be gone.

He’d have all the reasons he needed to finish the job, no matter the danger to him.

But it occurred to him that a little misdirection might be useful. A little scare that would have everyone looking in a different direction. Something that would distract him from the nagging fear that Kylie would remember. Something that would distract everyone else from Kylie.

Humming, he set about changing his appearance with a wig and ugly cheap sunglasses, then went to get one of the old, unrecognizable cars from the barn where his dead father had left them. All he needed now was to find one little girl walking home from school alone.