Marilyn Pappano - Killer Smile

But if it was over and done with, why was he so darn irate?

The Prairie Sun Hotel, located a few doors from Judge Judie’s, was a three-story building with a sandstone facade and leaded-glass double doors leading into the lobby. It had begun life as a mercantile, later became a JCPenney, then an indoor antiques mall and now was a boutique hotel. It had been an easy choice for Natasha after seeing the cookie-cutter motels on the highways leading to Tulsa. Parking in the tiny lot out back was the only downside, but she could live with that.

She could live with it easier if she wasn’t convinced both she and her car were going to sprout mushrooms if the rain didn’t stop soon.

Her room was on the second floor at the front and had wood floors and tall ceilings and a claw-foot tub in the bath. Instead of a closet, there was a scarred oak armoire, standing across from the vintage tubular steel bed. It was all so lovely that the only thing she would even think of changing was the line of small iron birds that danced along the top bar of both the headboard and the footboard. Not only were they just too much , as Jeffrey said about excessive decorations, their sharp beaks and wing tips looked a little dangerous for someone wandering to or from the bathroom in the middle of the night.

She sat at the small oak table that served as a desk, her tablet and keyboard in front of her. She intended to spend the rest of the evening the way she usually did—a few games of Candy Crush , then a few chapters of whichever book caught her fancy. Fantasy tonight, she thought, with dragons and knights and self-rescuing princesses. Something that would take her out of Cedar Creek and far, far away from Daniel’s dislike.

“You dumped him,” she muttered aloud. “Did you really expect him to be happy to see you?”

No. She’d never thought he would be happy. He took things so seriously. Sometimes she’d wondered how someone raised by two majorly passionate people could be so cool and unemotional. Maybe he was just a version of her: coming from such a chaotic family, she’d craved quiet and calm. Maybe he’d craved rationale and reason.

But he felt things. Felt them deeply. He’d trusted until he’d learned better. He’d been fiercely loyal until she’d showed him disloyalty. He would have done anything for her until she’d done everything to him. He was done with her. She understood that. Respected it. Accepted it.

But it still stung.

With the email icon on the tablet screen showing new mail, she raised one hand to swipe across it, then hesitated. The tiny hairs bristling on the back of her neck told her there would be an email from him . The reason she had made this trip. The reason she’d had to face Daniel. She wanted to indulge in childlike games: if she didn’t open the program, she wouldn’t see the email, and if she didn’t see the email, it didn’t exist. He didn’t exist.

But he did, and all the pretending in the world couldn’t change that.

She had the usual spam in her inbox, a funny message from her sister, Stacia, and a sweet how-did-it-go note from Archer. He was the gruffer, blunter of the two Harper men, but he had a soft spot for her, and she for him.

And yes, there was also an email from him .

RememberMe.

The sight of his screen name made her skin crawl and her hand tremble when she tapped on it. Her cell phone had been blissfully silent today, but Monday he’d texted her multiple times.

You’re late for work, Nat. Why?

Your office said you didn’t call in. Are you sick? I should call Stacia to find out.

Where are you, Nat?

On Tuesday, he’d opened with...

There’s no family emergency or Stacia would be gone, too. Where are you? What are you doing? Why are you making me worry?

Are you too sick to answer your phone? Should I ask the dispatcher for a welfare check?

Is this about Kyle’s accident?

Answer me, damn it.

His final text that night had made her shiver and hunker deeper into the covers of a cheap motel somewhere in Texas, along Interstate 40.

I went by your apartment tonight, and your car was gone. What are you up to, Nat? Why are you doing this to me?

What he was doing to her apparently counted for nothing, and what he’d done to Kyle...

Goose bumps everywhere, she finally focused on the tablet screen.

You shouldn’t have done this, Nat. But it’s okay. I’m not mad. I was, but I’m not anymore because I know I’ll find you. The connection between us is so deep and strong that I’ll always find you, and when I do—after all, Cedar Creek’s not that big—you’ll never want to leave me again.

Damn it, he knew where she was. Deep inside, though, she wasn’t surprised. Coming here had been on the spur of the moment; on Sunday night she’d called Archer and gotten Daniel’s information, told Stacia she was leaving, packed her bags and slipped out of the apartment before dawn Monday morning. But she’d known RememberMe would figure it out. He knew everything she did.

Swallowing hard, she pressed her hands together to stop their trembling. He made her feel so damn vulnerable. There had been times when his messages were almost sporadic, a few weeks when she hadn’t heard from him at all. She’d readjusted to life quickly, neglecting to be wary when she was out, to look over her shoulder or to search for familiar faces in unfamiliar places. Then, when she’d thought he’d moved on, that some other woman had caught his fancy, another email had found its way into her inbox, or a text to her cell phone, or a card to her mailbox.

RememberMe. When the first emails had come, she’d thought the name was cute, a friendly question without the question remark. Hey, remember me? After what had happened to Kyle, she knew there was nothing cute or friendly about him.

And she didn’t have a clue in hell who he was or what he wanted besides frightening her. She didn’t know why he was fixated on her, how he’d gotten her email address or her cell number or her home address. She didn’t know how he tracked her down every time she changed jobs, where he watched her from, what he wanted from her.

What was the point of his sick game?

Right now it didn’t matter. All she had to do was warn Daniel. Have that conversation he so clearly didn’t want to have. Give him one more reason to hate her. She would do the same with her other two exes—she was still searching for them—and then she would find herself a hiding place so far away that RememberMe would never find her.

She closed her email and stared at the screen a long time before opening the browser. Cedar Creek was a pretty little town, but she needed to put it in the rearview mirror as soon as possible. Vulnerable wasn’t a pleasant way to feel, and she wanted it done.

It wasn’t likely that a town the size of this one had more than one bowling alley, and a search showed that was true. She’d discarded her wet shoes when she came in from the diner and hadn’t brought another pair that went so well with the dress, so she changed into jeans and a button-down, put on chunky-soled boots that should keep out the worst of the water, grabbed a raspberry-colored slicker and her bag, and left the room.

Claire Baylor, proprietor, manager and housekeeper of the Prairie Sun, was sitting behind the grand oak counter, a book propped open on the desk. When she closed it, Natasha caught a view of the cover. The Unlucky Ones .

“I’ve heard that book will give you nightmares,” she commented.

Claire came to stand in front of her. “It makes me unbearably sad.”

“I haven’t read it. These days, if it doesn’t make me laugh or give me the thrill of adventure, I don’t read it.”