Free Hide and Seek by Charlene Newberg Page B

does Alan know my every move?"
    "Listen to me,” he commanded softly, his breath warming her ear. “Would this guy recognize Shawn?"
    “Since I left Alan, Shawn has grown taller. His hair is a little longer and sun-lightened.”
    “Good girl! That’s some rational thinking.” He took her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Any moron would guess we want privacy.” His baritone schooled and had a soothing effect. “Make it convincing, Caprice." Holt’s warm lips brushed hers, but never took or stole.
    Her fingers lingered along his tanned neck while his forearm rested against her breast, heating her skin through her tank top. At the same time, fright created by the ominous sound of the idling engine formed knots in her stomach.
    Seconds felt like hours before the vehicle finally rolled away, putting distance between them. Blessed relief sent the blood flowing to Caprice’s muscles once again. She shifted to get up, but like a committed dance partner, Holt's arm encircled her middle. “Wait until he’s out of sight.”
    After a moment, Holt released her then put two fingers to his lips and blew shrilly. Armor came out from behind a clump of bushes. He lunged against the leash and drew Shawn behind him.
    Holt took the leash from Shawn, and Caprice bent to hug her son, to press her lips to his head. For her peace-of- mind, she silently vowed to never let him out of her sight again.
    When she straightened, Holt’s gray eyes were burning with questions. “We need to go,” she said before he could speak. With Commerce two hours away, she planned to borrow Grace’s car and keep her meeting with Agent Lyons.
    After Caprice made sure Shawn was buckled in at the table and content coloring, she shut the curtains against the afternoon glare then sat in the cab’s passenger seat. She glanced at Holt, but his lips were compressed. His beard kept her from reading his expression, but for a brief moment in time, their lives had become entangled like a thorny, blackberry bramble. She sensed that Shawn's well-being had been paramount to Holt too. Their lives were as different and as distant as the miles between their homes, but Caprice realized she would trust Holt with her life.
    "I’ll need directions," he said.
    Caprice drew a slip of paper from her pocket. "Once we enter Commerce, turn left onto Woodbridge Road then left again onto Elm Street.” She looked up. "The house is on the right."
    Holt turned onto Elm. They drove through a quiet neighborhood, under trees with drooping branches that brushed and scraped the camper's roof. Grace's rambling red brick home sat nestled among several stately conifers on a sun-dappled lawn. At the end of a short drive was a basketball hoop. Beneath the hoop, Caprice recognized her nephews' bikes, their knobby tires caked in red clay.
    She pointed. “This must be it,” she said, thrilled that Shawn would finally have the freedom to run and play with Brian and Paul. “This is the house.” The home’s closed garage door reminded Caprice that she would soon have to borrow Grace’s car. The thought made her tense as she consulted her watch. She had one hour to make her meeting.
    Holt braked to turn into the drive, but Caprice spied a movement from behind a low-growing, Hawthorn hedge. Two men in dark suits and mirrored sunglasses pushed away from the front quarter panel of a Cadillac sedan. She recognized Alan’s muscular build, the thick sandy hair, and the cruel jut of his chin.
    “Holt, look!”
    His gaze narrowed. “I’ve seen him. Is that…”
    “Alan,” she whispered. A breeze blew his suit jacket open, exposing a leather gun holster as he jogged toward the camper. “Holt, go!”
    Holt gunned the accelerator, and the vehicle lurched forward.
    “Caprice, wait! Baby, let’s talk.” Alan pounded the unit’s metal siding. "Bitch! I’ll kill you!”
    They roared down the residential street, and Caprice watched from the Freelander’s long, side-view mirror as the two men