River’s End

by mistake, squeezed it with both hands as if to strangle the caller, then flipped it on.
    “What the hell do you want?”
    “Just to say good-bye. ‘Bye.”
    “Wait. Liv. Wait, don’t hang up, damn it. You don’t return my calls for two days, and then you catch me at a bad moment.”
    “I’ve been busy, which you obviously are, too. So—”
    “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m a jerk. I’ve got the sackcloth right here. You got my messages?” All ten thousand of them, he thought.
    “Yes, I haven’t had time to return them until now. And I only have a minute as it is. They’re already boarding.”
    “Boarding? What? You’re at the airport? You’re leaving already?”
    “Yes, my plans changed.” Her father was out of prison. Was he already in L.A.? Is this where he would come first? She rubbed a hand over her mouth and schooled her voice to sound casual. “I have to get back, and I thought I’d let you know. If you still want to talk to me, regarding your book, you can reach me at the lodge, the Center most likely.”
    “Go back in the morning. One night can’t make any difference. Olivia, I want to see you.”
    “You know where to find me. We’ll work out some sort of schedule that’s convenient for the interviews.”
    “I want . . .” You, he realized. How the hell had it gotten so mixed up a second time?
    “The book isn’t everything that’s going on here, between us. Change your flight.”
    He hit keys rapidly to save data and close. “I’ll come pick you up.”
    “I don’t want to be here,” she said flatly. “I’m going home.” To where it was safe. To where she could breathe. “If you want interviews with me, you’ll have to come to the lodge. It’s final boarding. I’m leaving.”
    “It’s not just the damn interviews,” he began, but she’d already broken the connection.
    Noah swung the phone over his shoulder, then halfway back to the desk before he managed to resist the urge to just beat it to bits of plastic. The woman was making him nuts. She ran hot, cold, jumped up, down and sideways. How the hell was he supposed to keep up with her?
    Now she was gone, leaping out of his reach before he had a real chance to grab hold. Now he was supposed to go chasing after her? Was that the game?
    Disgusted, he kicked back in the chair, stared at the ceiling. No, she didn’t work that way. It wasn’t games with Olivia so much as it was a match. There was a big difference between the two.
    There were details he needed to deal with, more data he needed to work through. And then, he thought, tossing the phone on the cluttered desk, then they’d just see about that match.
    He was more than willing to go one-on-one.
    Olivia didn’t relax until the plane was in the air and she could nudge her seat back, close her eyes. Below, Los Angeles was falling away, out of reach and soon out of sight. There was nothing there for her now, no need to go back. The house that had once been her own personal castle was locked behind iron gates and belonged to someone else.
    And the murder that had been done there, long since scrubbed away. If and when Noah contacted her, she’d deal with it, and him. She’d proven to herself that she could get through that swarm of memories. Retelling them would only be words, words that couldn’t hurt her now.
    The monster was loose.
    It seemed to whisper in her ear, a warning edged with a kind of jumping glee. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let it matter. Whether or not they’d unlocked his cell, given him a suit of clothes and the money he’d earned over his years in a cage, he’d been dead to her for a long, long time.
    She hoped she’d been dead to him as well. That he didn’t think of her. Or if he did, she prayed that every thought caused him pain.
    She turned her head away from the window and willed herself to sleep. Sleep didn’t come easily to some. It was full of fear and sound and bloody images. The monster was loose. And it cavorted in dreams, shambled on thick legs into the heart and poured out in bitter tears.
    The monster was loose, and knew there would be no end, no finish without more death.
    Livvy. The name was a silent sob, trembling in a desperate mind. The love for her was as real as it had been from the moment shed been born. And the fear of her was as real as it had been on the night blood had been spilled.
    She would be sacrificed only if there was no choice.
    And the loss of her would be, forever, an open