It was too easy. All those years later, she remembered everything with exact precision. Two moves in less than five seconds later, he was disarmed and limp on the ground with a broken neck.
Her heart pounded as one lone tear trailed down her cheek. It wasn’t for him. It was for her—for Jillian. Jessica died a killer, but Jillian would have to live as one.
Taking a deep breath she balled her fists that were a bit shaky, opened her eyes without looking at the body even once, and walked to the truck.
AJ glanced up from his phone as she got in the driver’s side. “You okay?”
She started the truck and nodded.
“They need to replace some lights around here. It’s black as sin.”
Jillian didn’t acknowledge him. Some things were better left in the sinful dark.
They managed the last twenty-four hours of their trip without any more casualties. It was an awful thought, but Jillian was oddly grateful for the migraine that seized AJ on the last night. As hard as she tried to be herself, whoever Jillian Knight was supposed to be, it felt too forced. AJ would have noticed had his head not been dealing with such a pounding distraction.
As soon as they arrived home, AJ nearly overdosed on pain meds and collapsed onto his bed. Jillian went home.
“I’m so unbelievably pissed at you,” Jackson scolded her the second she walked through the front door.
She dropped her bags and looked up at him, tears racing down her cheeks. The strength it took to make it home without falling apart in front of AJ almost killed her.
The anger in his eyes vanished the second he saw her pain. “Jesus! What happened?” He pulled her into his arms.
She fisted his shirt while sobs wracked her whole body. “I k-killed him.”
Jackson gripped her arms and held her back. “Who?” he yelled, eyes wild.
“T-T-Trigger.” She sagged in his hold.
“What? How? Look at me!”
“H-he was at a-a rest stop.”
Jackson lowered them both to the floor and brushed his thumb over the mark on her lip from AJ.
“He hurt you. Where the fuck was AJ when this happened?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t hurt me.”
“Your lip—”
“That was AJ.”
Jackson’s body went rigid. “AJ hit you?”
“I told him to—”
“You what—”
“Stop!” She grabbed Jackson’s face “Listen to me…” she sniffled “…this isn’t about AJ. We stopped at a rest stop in Wyoming last night and AJ returned to the truck before me. It was dark and I heard someone in the distance. It was him, Jackson … it was Trigger.”
“You saw him?”
“No.” Pain washed over her face. “I heard his voice. He recognized me.”
“But you didn’t look at him?”
She slowly turned her head side to side, keeping her eyes locked to his. She didn’t have to say it. They both knew.
“He had a gun.”
Jackson nodded once.
“AJ didn’t see anything.”
“He was following you?”
“No. His car was there before us. He was just as surprised to see me.”
“Come on, you’re smarter than that. There’s no fucking way it was a coincidence.”
“His car was there before we pulled off. There’s no way he was following us.”
“Did you see him get in or out of the car?”
“What?” Jillian tried to shake the confusion from her mind.
“What was the license plate number?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“There was only one other car in the lot and you didn’t get the license plate number?”
“No! I didn’t. It was late at night and we were in the middle of nowhere. Why the hell would I need to sweep the area?”
“Because that’s what you were trained to do. It’s been ingrained in you.”
“It was him!”
Jackson held her head, forcing her to look him in the eye. “But was it his car? Is it possible he did in fact follow you? Could he have parked somewhere else?”
“Oh God!” Her jaw trembled. She couldn’t say for sure if it was his car. It was just an assumption—a hasty, bad assumption. “We should call Knox.”
“I’m sure he already knows. It’s been almost twenty-four hours. They have eyes and ears everywhere. Knox knows what move you’re going to make before you do. I’ll search it up.”
Jackson stood and pulled her up then grabbed his computer. Jillian turned her back to him. She didn’t want to see any photos.
“Man found dead at Wyoming rest stop along I-80 East Wednesday night. The thirty-five-year-old male has been identified as Matthew Green from San Diego, California. Investigators don’t suspect foul play but are waiting autopsy confirmation. Green has been on the FBI’s most wanted list for over a decade. He is believed to have been the accomplice of the infamous serial killer, Edwin Harvey.”
“Enough,” Jillian whispered as one last tear rolled down her cheek.
“The autopsy report will say heart attack.”
Jillian swallowed. “I know.”
“But you broke his neck.” It wasn’t a question.
She shook her head. “I didn’t. Jessica Day did.” It was what she had to believe to keep her last shred of sanity.