Page 33 of Lethal Deceit (Hightower Security #2)

I scramble over the second fence, landing with a thud that makes me regret not packing my running shoes.

It was a risk taking the precious moments to change into the only other outfit I had, my shorts and T-shirt, but there was no way I could have left the house wearing clothing that would have stuck out. If that was their strategy, they really should have removed the clothing I had in my pack. Adena may have tossed my dress in the trash, but even that has worked to my advantage. My pack might be damp still, but it’s lighter, and the outfit will keep me cool in the heat.

Out of breath from the exertion of climbing over three fences so I could get to another street, I take a moment to check out my surroundings. I might be out of breath, and I might be a sweaty mess, but I’m now a whole lot closer to my destination. Adjusting the pack on my back, I increase my pace to the nearest street sign and smile to myself when I see I’m one right turn away from the mall.

Perfect. I have my cash. I have my insurance policy.

Everything is perfect.

Except that an innocent woman is going to die because of you.

The smile dies, and my steps falter as if something pulls them back.

But I can’t go back.

I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, just like I’ve always done.

I increase my pace, walking as fast as I can, my lungs burning as if I’m sprinting. When I’m safely in Cuba, I’ll find a doctor and get a proper examination to ensure I didn’t sustain any lasting damage.

What difference does it make if you do? No one cares if you live or die.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the sunlight pierces them, boring holes into me.

“Shut up,” I growl.

But it won’t. And with each step, the voice grows more insistent.

Tired of fighting, I start thinking about something else.

Random thoughts enter my mind, and I pluck one out, grabbing onto it as a lifeline.

“You do count.”

Mick. Just before he kissed me.

Hot tears sting at my eyes, and I squeeze them shut, taking hold of the straps of my pack as I hurry.

It’s not true. He’s deluded if he thinks God is out there, watching, just waiting for us to wake up to that fact.

I have to get to the mall, filled with distractions and a way out of the area. Traffic is getting heavier—lots of commuters heading into work—so I wait at the crosswalk and try not to keep checking over my shoulder. I’m so anxious to get inside that I start when the Walk sign finally illuminates, propelling me across the road.

My heart is thumping too quickly and sweat is snaking down my spine, but I make it to the parking lot just over eighteen minutes after I left the house.

Not bad for someone who doesn’t know the area.

Rather than pat myself on the back, as soon as the glass doors open, I locate the map and head right into the first designer clothing store I see. It takes me just under three minutes to select a new outfit, purse, wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and strappy sandals, another five to find the nearest restroom, and just two more to remove the tags, change, dump the pack in the trash, and head toward the makeup counter.

The line to the counter is too long, so I select mini versions of lip gloss, mascara, and bronzer, palm them, and turn on my heel, sliding them into my purse as I walk away.

With the glasses on and the new outfit, it’s easier to blend into the early morning shopping crowd, but what I really need is a way out of here. Since I no longer have a phone to call an Uber, I buy fresh juice, ascend the escalator to the rooftop level, and hang around the entrance, sipping and watching for the right target. Dud after dud walks out, and I start to get desperate. I can’t stay here for much longer.

The glass doors slide open, and a little girl toddles out. She’s blond, her pigtails are askew, and chocolate ice cream stains run down her Lilo and Stitch T-shirt. I watch her, unable to look away, wondering where her mother is and why she’s alone. She doesn’t seem concerned, but cars are streaking past, and she’s getting dangerously close to stepping out in front of one.

I edge closer, and she spies me and toddles toward me, arms out as if expecting me to pick her up. Her chin starts to wobble, and her eyes water.

Oh crap. She’s lost.

I scoop her up in my arms, trying not to get her sticky hands on my six-hundred-dollar dress, and awkwardly carry her back to the exit. Her mother had better be nearby, or I’ll have to carry her to the nearest security guard.

The little girl wraps her sticky fingers into my freshly washed hair and leans into me, pressing her chubby cheek into the hollow of my neck.

“You pretty,” she says.

I stiffen, unsure of how to take the compliment. She probably thinks everyone is pretty. Little kids are like that.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

With her as a dead weight, I return to the top of the escalator and sigh, as there’s no panicking mother in sight.

“Great,” I mutter.

Tucking my purse under my arm, I adjust the little girl in my arms and look down at her. She’s fast asleep.

Unbelievable. This is the first and last time I try to be a good Samaritan.

On the other hand, she does make an excellent disguise. Mick and co are hardly going to recognize me if I look like a mom.

Juggling her in my arms, I take the hat off and tuck it under my arm before sliding my sunglasses over my hair like a hairband. Halfway down the escalator, I spy a security guard and regret removing the best part of my disguise when the frazzled woman beside him looks up and squeals. She’s so panicked that she tries to climb up the escalator to reach us before the security guard tugs her back.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, Jesus!”

she cries. She clasps her hands together, holding them to her mouth and looking skyward, her lips moving as if thanking the God Mick believes in before breaking down in tears.

As I step off the escalator, she leaps toward me, wrapping me in a bear hug, crushing me into her and her daughter. She’s hot and sweaty, obviously stressed, so maybe losing her kid isn’t usual for her, but I still want to tell her she’s lucky I was the one who found her and not some sicko with a thing for kids.

“Thank you, thank you, you have no idea… My baby. I thought my mom was watching her, and she thought I was.”

With the amount of fuss she’s making, people are stopping to stare. Not only that but the security guard is on his radio, his eyes on me, a cautious smile on his lips. Hopefully, he’s calling off the search. Again, I regret my choice to intervene. This is the opposite of what I need right now.

“No problem.”

I try to hand the kid over, but she’s stuck to me like a leech. Her arms tighten around my neck like she’s known me longer than three minutes.

“Sammy, come to Mommy. Let the nice lady go,”

her mom calls, rushing toward us with relief written all over her face.

Sammy?

I hesitate, shifting the little girl slightly in my arms.

“Her name is ?”

Her mom grins, brushing blond wisps off her forehead.

“ Jane. After my grandmother.”

I freeze for a second longer than I should, the name snagging like a hook in my chest.

.

What are the odds?

A sign? A message?

I don’t believe in either.

But for some reason, my heart stumbles over itself as I pass her off, like I’ve just given up something more than sticky arms and a warm cheek.

Names are just names. Coincidences happen. They don’t mean anything.

Still…

With my eyes sliding to the security guard and back to her, I return her smile.

“Are you finished shopping? I had a fight with my boyfriend, and he left me stranded. I could really use a ride.”

The mom frowns at my fictional boyfriend then nods eagerly.

“Absolutely. I’ll just find Mom, and we can take you anywhere you need to go. I’m parked right outside.”

Inwardly, I groan. I should have checked first. Who parks out in the open in Miami?

As the mom asks me if she can buy me a coffee or a smoothie by way of thanks, the security guard’s posture switches from relieved to anxious. He backs up a few steps and tugs at his collar, and rather than getting ready to call off the search, his eyes dart to the escalator below us.

Still holding a superficial smile on my face, I glance down, and my stomach flips.

Oh crap.

Several security guards are on their way up, and two Miami PD are right behind them.