Alice Sharpe - Hidden Identity

The road was eroded and heavily rutted. He dodged the worst of it while steadily climbing. Every now and again, he’d have to stop to use the front mounted winch to pull aside fallen branches, or shift rocks out of the way, then restart their journey. During those short breaks, he listened for the approach of another vehicle or aircraft. All he ever heard was the sound of thunder getting closer.

Chelsea silently allowed him to work. What did she make of this frantic dash in the rain with a man who was a stranger to her? When would she start demanding an explanation?

And what would he tell her?

Anything she wants to know , he told himself.

From the first moment he’d seen her he’d been drawn to her humor and beauty. It was like a man standing in the middle of the desert being hit by a rainsquall. All the loneliness and restlessness that had plagued him for well over a year disappeared with the genuine wattage of her smile. For someone with no past he could ever talk about, suddenly having a future had filled him with renewed energy and that bred hope. Weeks of being with her, loving her, spinning dreams, well, that had been heaven on earth, until he had to leave without telling her, knowing he’d never see her again and that she would never know he’d faked his own death.

Just as he’d faked almost everything she thought she knew about him.

If she ever got her memory back, she’d hate his guts and he wouldn’t blame her.

And now, wonder of wonders, here she was, carrying his baby and not knowing who either one of them were.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked.

“You’re very pretty,” he responded.

“I feel like a drowned rat and I’m the one with the rain parka. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome. How’s your head feeling?”

“Probably a lot like the tires on this Jeep.”

“Hopefully we can stop pretty soon and you can stretch out.”

“Hmm...” she said. Her face grew serious. “Back at the cabin you asked if I remembered a gunshot. What did you mean?”

“Your pilot had a fresh gunshot wound in his arm,” he said.

“Is that what caused the crash?”

“I don’t know. I doubt it. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“And who exactly are you?” she asked, her brow narrowing.

He felt a vibration in his pocket and took out the monitor. Back at the cabin, a vehicle had triggered the road sensor. It would take about ten minutes to get to the cabin, another five or so to tear the place apart. Maybe they’d take a look at the downed chopper. For that matter, maybe the sensor had detected a police car or emergency vehicles sent to investigate the crash site. There was no way of knowing for sure who was on their way up the road. With any luck he might be able to see when the Jeep reached the top of this blasted mountain and he could chance a scan below.

“What’s that?” she asked as she stared at the little electronic device in his hand.

“Insurance.”

She shook her head, then closed her eyes. “Why are we running away?”

“Someone is after me. Or us, I guess. I promise I’ll tell you more but not now.”

Speculation settled on her face as she peered at him. Of all her expressions he’d witnessed over the months, this one of wariness was new. He yearned for her to look at him the way she had before. Fat chance of that right now.

“Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll wait.”

Thirty minutes later the Jeep, as victorious as a wheezing climber, crested the hill. “I’ll be right back,” he told Chelsea, stopping under the trees where there was still some cover from the rain.

She wrapped her arms around herself and nodded.

He fetched a smaller, less powerful set of binoculars out of the glove box and walked into the clearing. It took him a few seconds to locate the cabin. Adjusting the focus, he finally spied a dark van parked close to the cabin’s deck. A man with white-blond hair stood near it, an automatic rifle in his hands. No uniform. No bells or whistles on the car. Within a few moments, two more armed men came out of the house and joined him. They moved under the protection of the eaves, apparently unaware he and Chelsea had escaped via the river. The blond guy took out his phone and made a call while the others watched.

An instant after lightning pierced the dusky skies, an explosion rent the air. Adam jerked his binoculars toward the forest on the other side of the meadow. Flames climbed the trees where the helicopter had gone down. The lightning must have made a direct hit. One man immediately jumped off the deck and took off across the meadow, while the other two held their ground. And then one of them began a slow turn toward the ridge on which he stood. It appeared he’d found Adam’s good binoculars and now he held them to his eyes. Adam immediately lowered the set he held, but not before he saw the man’s lips move and his arm shoot out toward the crest, seemingly right at Adam.

Adam stood without breathing, without moving, until the need to know what was happening outweighed the risk of looking. He all but oozed backward into the shadows before raising the binoculars again.

More lightning flashed, followed by thunder still startlingly close by. In that moment, Adam witnessed the man previously seen hurrying toward the explosion now running to the cabin, presumably called back by the other two. They all hopped into the van and tore off down the road.

Adam had seen enough. They might know he was up here but he knew the low clearance of their vehicle wouldn’t handle eroded roads and trails. That meant they would locate the main highway and watch for him, or at least that’s what he would do in their place. So, instead of finding a nice paved highway and leaving the forest, he’d stay on logging roads until he found a suitable place for them to spend the night. His first priority was to get Chelsea to a doctor and then he needed to study a map. There were decisions to be made and in her current condition, those decisions would have to come from him.

He’d envisioned his final escape many times over the past few weeks, but he’d never imagined he’d have to drag another person along with him. A month ago, when he’d asked Chelsea to be his wife, he’d thought he was safe and in the clear, never dreaming she would wind up in danger because of him. None of that mattered now because the only reality existed in this moment—not yesterday and certainly not tomorrow.

And now it wasn’t just her—it was their baby, too.

Once more he got back in the Jeep.

“What did you see down there?” Chelsea asked.

“Three armed men. I think they’ll try to cut us off.”

Her gaze darted around the landscape. “What do we do?”

“Stay in the forest,” he told her.

She nodded, but she had to be thinking the same thing he was: sooner or later they would have to leave the shelter of the trees. Then what?

Determined not to pepper Adam with questions, Chelsea channeled her energy into gripping the Jeep’s rusty frame with both hands. Instead of questioning her own origins and identity, she concentrated on the few facts she knew. One, she was the sole survivor of a crash and a man she knew had found her. Two, someone had shot the pilot. And three, someone was now chasing after them, causing great fear in her heart, something she saw mirrored in Adam’s eyes. Except on him, the fear came across more as anger.

She snuck a look at him, struck by his strong profile and the aura of concentration his body language communicated. Rain had flattened his bleached blond hair close to his head while drops glistened in the short beard that darkened his jaw. His gray eyes peered into the ever-increasing twilight, apparently discerning signs of trails she could barely see. But, of course, she wasn’t trying very hard to see anything. For now it was enough to trust that this man who seemed capable of anything would get them through the night in one piece. She had to face the fact that her brain wasn’t up to much work right now. All she wanted was to lay her head down and sleep for a week.