Fugitive (Misty)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events,

  and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a

  fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or

  actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 JB Trepagnier

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored

  in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any

  means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 1

  My mother has really outdone herself this time. Growing up, I’d gotten used to the get rich quick schemes or eating weird shit for two months because she swore she needed to lose five pounds. My father thought all that was cute. She always wanted more money, even though we had plenty. All that came crashing down when I was fourteen and Jake Yakov knocked on our door.

  He was coming to tell us about my father’s fatal car accident and it was like he never left after that. He weaseled his way close to my mother while she was grieving, but I knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted the money she was due to inherit. What he didn’t know was that my father knew if he left anything to my mother, she would blow through it and we’d starve. All his money was left to me in a trust fund.

  I knew about the money, but she didn’t until the will was read. She looked furious at first, but then she hid it. Jake never asked about the money while he was trying to skeeze his way into our lives, but I heard the fight after they got back from their honeymoon and he found out he couldn’t access it without our lawyer’s approval and the money was actually mine.

  I had no idea how much he made as a cop, but I knew he was corrupt. He worked in narcotics and he brought it home. I caught him snorting cocaine more than once and he wasn’t exactly discreet disposing of his needles. I told my mother and she was convinced I didn’t like him because he wasn’t my father.

  Once he knew I was where the money was, he became this overprotective jerk. He dressed me like some little doll and I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup or talk to boys. He abused his job as a cop to monitor my cell phone to watch everything I did.

  He never hit me, but I was sure he was hitting my mother. She had a certain way she always loved to dress and after a year of being married to him, she was hiding in huge clothes and she lost weight, even if she didn’t need to. She turned into this hollow shell of herself. I tried asking her several times and she would ask me to leave.

  I knew I wasn’t safe with Jake in the house, but I had no power to make him leave. I took off when I was sixteen. I learned enough from watching Jake watch me to get away where he couldn’t find me. I ditched my phone and got another one and never left paper trails. I did call my attorney for money and he knew why I ran. I knew I could trust him and he wouldn’t tell Jake about any transfers. He hid them anyway just in case Jake tried to use his job to force it out of him.

  When I was eighteen, I didn’t have to hide anymore. I called my mother and tried to talk her into leaving him again, but there was no way in hell I was setting foot in that house again. I went to college, majored in business like my dad, and graduated with honors. I spoke to my mother infrequently over the phone, but I never saw her face. My mother and I were never really close, but I did want her safe and away from Jake.

  When we did talk, she kept insisting Jake really wanted me to come home, but I’d seen enough of Jake to know I’d probably go home and end up missing until they eventually declared me dead. Jake probably knew everything there was to hiding my body and never getting caught. He’d trick my mother into leaving him in her will, then she’d disappear too.

  I was twenty-five and living two hours away from her. I was working a job I loved and I even had a guy at work I was interested in. I’d caught him staring at me several times and if he didn’t ask first, I was getting up the courage to ask him out myself. I hadn’t seen my mother since I was sixteen. She never called me, I always called her. So, I was shocked when she called me out the blue telling me she wanted to disappear and leave Jake.

  I was all for that and I prepared for it. Devon, our lawyer, was happy to help me. He did several shady things for me over the years, but I knew I could trust him. I had two new cell phones for us, new identities, and I traded my sports car for a model that went fast, but was less likely to draw attention. I knew how to disappear. I did it once to get away from Jake. I knew if I left with my mother, he’d try to find us. He didn’t look all that hard when I left.

  Jake was supposed to be on duty the night I drove up to her house. The driveway was empty, but the garage was closed. I had no reason to suspect his patrol car being in there. The house was dark and I thought she was just waiting for me. What I walked into had me furious.

  My mother was hunched on the couch with a busted lip and a black eye. Her suitcase contents were strewn across the room. How the hell had Jake found out? He was screaming at her so hard, he was spitting everywhere and he didn’t even notice me. His sidearm was on the end table, just within my reach.

  I’d never even held a gun, but I picked it up and aimed it at him.

  “Get away from my mother, shithead!” I yelled.

  Jake whirled around and gave me this evil grin. “Welcome home, Misty. Put that down before you hurt yourself.”

  He took a menacing step towards me and I knew if he managed to get his gun, we’d both be at his mercy. I needed a show of power, something he’d understand. I meant to just fire a warning shot over his shoulder. Looking back, I should have aimed it at his feet. I knew nothing about aiming and I certainly wasn’t expecting the gun to recoil the way it did.

  I saw a flash of white when I pulled the trigger and I heard Jake howl. I stumbled backwards, but it was several seconds before I could see again. Jake was hunched against the wall with a growing spread of blood across the crotch of his pants. It hit me what I just did. I shot a cop, with his own gun, right in the crotch. I had no idea if I should grab my mom and run or call this in and see if there were officers that actually believed our story. Her face was banged up and Devon could back up our story.

  “What did you do, Misty?” my mother shrieked. She rushed over to Jake and started stroking his cheek.

  That was when I knew. I was alone in this. My mother would back Jake. I didn’t want to think about what prison was going to be like if the guards found out I shot a cop there. Jake may never have sex again. I needed to get out of here. My mother was reaching for her phone. As soon as she told the operator Jake was shot, this place would be swarming with cops.

  I tucked his gun into the back of my jeans. I wasn’t leaving anything with fingerprints. I turned to run to my car.

  “I’ll find you wherever you go, you little bitch!” Jake yelled. “And I’ll have the entire station helping me look this time.”

  I had no doubt in my mind that was exactly what was going to happen. I ran out to my car as fast as I could and slammed the door. I picked Florida to take my mom because I thought she would like the weather. She knew this. Florida was out.

  I didn
’t know if I should go camp out in the middle of nowhere or go somewhere heavily populated. I just knew I needed to get out of here as fast as possible.

  Chapter 2

  I didn’t want to get caught with a speeding ticket. I read once a serial killer was caught with tickets. I deliberately chose a dark car. Most of my mother’s neighbors didn’t live remotely close to the house, but I didn’t know if they heard the gunshot. I calmly walked out and pulled out the driveway, even though I was feeling a little sick from the rush of adrenaline. I didn’t feel bad about shooting Jake. Shooting him in the junk was poetic justice for everything he did to my mother. I hoped he could never enjoy sex again.

  I stole two license plates before I went to my mother’s. I stole one and put it on the car whose license plate I was actually taking. That way, when someone reported their license plate was missing, everyone was looking for a different plate number than the one I was putting on my car. I didn’t wait long to swap the plate out.

  I drove to a deserted road and put the new plate on my car. I hid the old plate in the truck with my bags and got back in the driver’s seat. Where the hell was I supposed to go? I needed to figure out what was going on. I’d planned for that too. I’d managed to find a radio to listen in on police in this small shop that made all kinds of electronics for spying on people.

  I fired the radio up while driving again, not sure where I was going. I heard there was now a manhunt on for me for shooting one of their own. My own mother backed Jake instead of me. Apparently, the story Jake gave for her messed up face was that I did it and I shot him when he tried to stop me. Great. If they ever caught me, I’d have the guards beating me for shooting a cop and the inmates trying to kill me for hurting my mother.

  They were in the process of setting up roadblocks on all major exits to the city. Clearly, they thought I was a spoiled rich girl who would take the easy way out. I was just coasting and listening to all the places they intended to set up roadblocks. It wasn’t like I robbed a bank or assassinated anyone. I shot a shit stain in the crotch. I rolled my eyes as they declared me armed and dangerous.

  They didn’t set up a roadblock on old State road. It was how I got out the first time. It led straight to Portland, where my father had a cabin. That was where I stayed when I ran the first time. My mother knew about that cabin, but she never mentioned it to Jake. I had a feeling she would this time. I decided not to go to the cabin, but I would need old State to get out. I didn’t think for one second that cabin wouldn’t be swarming with cops as soon as I got there.

  I drove and drove. It didn’t seem like I would ever stop driving. I drove out of California into Portland. Where now? Canada? No. I didn’t think my fake identity would get me in and I had no visa. I just drove, sleeping in my car. When I was four states away, I swapped my car out at a used car dealership. I did have to put my real plates on and it would put a sign on my back, but let them think to look here.

  I checked my calendar after waking up on the fourth day. Mardi Gras was coming up. I spent Mardi Gras in New Orleans once. What better place to hide? The crime rate was pretty high there and I could swap license plates when I needed to and actually sleep in a real bed.

  Yes, I needed to get to New Orleans. Hide in plain sight and change my looks. That was my plan for now.

  Chapter 3

  Making it to New Orleans took several days, but I couldn’t rest when I got there. My crowning jewel was my waist length red hair and that had to go. You could identify in me in a crowd with that. I booked a hotel room in a bad part of town, then drove around trying to find a hair salon. I walked in with my hair tucked into a baseball cap and dark glasses on. It wasn’t past my notice there was a huge, beautiful tattooed man getting his toenails done in the chair next to me. Getting his toenails done? He looked like he bit them with his teeth.

  He was at least six foot five with chestnut hair down to his shoulders and huge green eyes. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt that showed off his huge biceps that were covered in tattoos. I didn’t know if I wanted to stare at his chest or the beautiful artwork he had on him. He hadn’t even looked up from his magazine, so I just flopped in the chair and took my cap off.

  “Wonderful,” the man behind me murmured, running his hands through my hair. “I hope you just want a trim.”

  “I need a total change. I want to be unrecognizable.”

  I watched the man in the mirror pout. I heard someone protest and my chair was turned around. The tattooed man was standing behind me with bare feet and foam between his toes. He scratched his beard and stared at me. He made a frame with his hands and put them around my face.

  “Lop it off at the shoulders, give her bangs, and make it black, Klaus. I think she’s perfect for the pinup girl look, don’t you?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? He didn’t even know me and he wasn’t my boyfriend. He had no right to tell me how to look.

  That infuriating man winked at me. “Once you’re rocking the Bettie Page look, you can come to my shop for tattoos. You’ve got nice arms too. You could rock full sleeves.”

  “Are you done treating me like a piece of meat?” I asked.

  “Isn’t that what you were doing to me when you came in?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

  Damn. He noticed. I didn’t even think he had looked up from his magazine. He sunk into the chair next to me and motioned for the girl doing his toes to come over. She scurried over with her buffers and clippers and started working on his toes again.

  “Aren’t you a little big to be having your toes worked on?” I shot at him.

  The barber cleared his throat. “Aiden has ideas, but you haven’t told me what you wanted yet.”

  Oh, hell. I didn’t even know and this Aiden’s cologne was distracting me. I didn’t even care he was here getting a pedicure and he was bossy as hell.

  “I’m telling you, do Bettie Page,” Aiden said, going back to his magazine.

  “Fine! Bettie Page!” Maybe he would leave me alone now.

  “You got a name?” he asked, not even looking my way. Why did he even care?

  “Misty,” I said without thinking. Fuck. Something about this man threw me off my guard. “But I prefer being called Tasha.” Everyone needed to call me Tasha here. No one could say they saw Misty the redhead.

  “I’m going to call you Misty,” Aiden said. “Your eyes are gray like mist. It suits you better.”

  I panicked. My heart was thumping in my chest. The last thing I needed was this man calling me Misty or any other pet names. “You can’t call me Misty,” I practically shrieked. I was so much better at this when I was sixteen, but I also wasn’t in New Orleans, I was shaking up in a cabin.

  He finally looked up from his magazine with a concerned look in his eyes. It looked like he saw right through me and would call the cops any second.

  “I’m here with my granny. I bring her here every Friday to get her hair done and I just get my toes and nails buffed while I wait. Where are you staying, Tasha?”

  Oh, great. He was a big softy. I wasn’t telling him where I was staying. He looked like some huge bad boy, but if he was close enough to his grandmother to bring her here every Friday, maybe there was some goody-goody boy scout under all those tattoos and he’d turn me into the cops.

  “Around,” I said, looking at my hands and trying to disappear into the chair. I hoped he would find something more interesting than me to talk about or maybe his grandmother would be done soon and I’d never see him again.

  “Look, Tasha. I’m not going to ask what your deal is or why you’re in New Orleans trying not to be recognized. The only reason I asked is that I’m ex-military. I stay with three of my buddies who were in my platoon. When Andre got out, he made a ton of money writing software for the government. He basically has a fortress just outside New Orleans you can hide out in for a little while. I’m there, Andre is there, and Casey and Gareth are too. There’s plenty of room and you can have your
own bedroom.”

  Or I’ll be contained in one place while Jake and his friends storm the place and arrest me. Or they’ll just hand me over to Jake and he’ll kill me himself. Or, they don’t care about Jake and what I did and they are all a bunch of rapists and that fortress is one big torture chamber.

  “You have no reason to trust me. It’s going to be a while before your hair is done and my granny just went back about ten minutes ago. She should be coming out by the time you are done. Talk to my granny and you’ll see I mean you no harm. I don’t know why you’re hiding, but there’s something about you that makes me want to protect you from it.”

  I finally looked up from my hands. Aiden looked totally sincere. He might be, but I didn’t intend on talking to his grandmother and I hoped I was done before she came out. I intended to just ignore Aiden as I felt the scissors cutting through hair that had only been trimmed before. My father loved my hair long and it had never been as short as it was slowly becoming.

  “I’m an artist,” Aiden offered. “I make money doing tattoos, but my photographs and paintings have sold and been shown in galleries all over the place. I wasn’t trying to offend you suggesting the pinup look. To be honest, you’re perfect the way you are. I was just trying to help when you said you wanted a total change and I got excited a little when I pictured you like that. I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t want to talk to him. Running away generally meant having no attachments, but it was also lonely. I also didn’t want to sit in this chair in awkward silence because I had a feeling he was going to keep talking.

  “Did you do your own tattoos?”

  “The ones I could reach, I did myself. The others, a guy in my shop did. If you ever wanted one, you should visit. We only do custom work. None of that pick something off the wall everyone else has. All our work is one of a kind.”

  I’d always wanted a tattoo. I’d thought about it countless times. “I wouldn’t know what to get. I don’t know what I like enough to have on me permanently. How did you pick?”