River’s End

.” He trailed off, remembering.
    “It wasn’t your fault. Look, we know each other well enough for me to see what’s in your head.” To keep Noah from backing off, Mike grabbed his hand. “You didn’t know she was going to go postal.”
    “I knew enough.”
    “I knew as much as you did, and I didn’t give a thought to going over there. For Christ’s sake, Noah, Dory was coming.” Shaken by just the thought of it, Mike rubbed his hands over his face, his fingers sliding under his glasses to press against his eyes. “Something could’ve happened to her, too. I’m the one who told her to meet me over there.”
    “That’s not—”
    “It’s the same thing,” Mike interrupted. “I was there at the club that night. I heard what she said, saw how she was.” He turned to brood out his window at his view of palm trees. “I wish I could remember, but I keep coming up against the blank. Nothing, not a fucking thing after the marathon after work. I remember kicking Pete Bester’s ass at Mortal Kombat. Next thing I’m clear on is waking up and seeing Mom. All I know about the between is what people tell me. Maybe I saw her. If I could say I saw her, they’d lock her up.”
    “They’d have to find her first. She skipped,” Noah added when Mike looked back at him. “None of her friends know where she is, or they’re not saying. She packed clothes, got a cash advance on her credit cards and split.”
    “Can’t they go after her for that, like The Fugitive.’“
    Even a half laugh felt good. “Richard Kimble was innocent.”
    “Yeah, but still.”
    “She wasn’t charged. I guess if they come up with some evidence they might take a look for her. Otherwise . . .” He lifted his shoulders, let them fall. “Anyway, I don’t think she’ll be hassling either one of us, not for a while at least.”
    “That’s something. So, now that you know I’m going to live, and that crazy bitch is off somewhere, I guess you better get back to work.”
    “Who says I haven’t been working?”
    “Your mother.”
    “Man, what is it with you and my mother?”
    “I’d always planned to marry her, but I thought your father might shoot me. Dory knows she’s my second choice, but she’s so madly in love with me she doesn’t care. But I digress,” he said with a grin. “She said you’ve been letting the book coast, really only playing at it for the last week or so. I’d say it’s time to get your lazy ass in gear.”
    “I’ll get to it.” Muttering, Noah wandered to the window.
    “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m cool. Aside from the blank spot, I’m nearly back to normal.”
    “You were never normal. I’ve been thinking about talking to Jamie Melbourne again, getting her husband to talk to me. Hassling that asshole admin of Smith’s.”
    “So do it.”
    “I’m waiting for my car.” He knew it was stalling. “The lodge arranged to have someone drive it down for me. Should be here tomorrow or the next day.”
    “Then you can go home, make your calls and set up your interviews.”
    Noah glanced back over his shoulder. “You kicking me out?”
    “What are friends for?”
    What was she doing? What in God’s name was she doing?
    Olivia sat in the car, her fingers clamped on the steering wheel, and struggled to breathe. If she took slow, even breaths her heart would stop pounding. She could control it, control the frenzied jerk and throb of her pulse and beat back the panic attack.
    She could do it, she could fight it off. She wouldn’t let it take over. But her hands wanted to tremble on the wheel, and the sheen of sweat had already pearled on her face as waves of heat then ice, heat then ice, surfed over her skin, through her belly, into her throat. She knew what she’d see if she looked in the rearview mirror. The wild, wide eyes, the glossy, translucent pallor. The nausea rolled up, one long sick crest, from her feet to her stomach to her throat. She gritted her teeth and fought it back, shoved it down even as the shudders shimmered over her in icy little bumps.
    The scream wanted to rip out, it tore at her chest, clawing with sharpened demon claws. But all she released was a moan, a long keening sound drenched in despair, pressing her head back against the seat as she held on, held on. Five seconds, then ten. Twenty. Until she willed herself, warred with her own mind, to snap clear.
    Her breath came fast, as if she’d been running, but the sharpest edge of panic began