See Me (3 page)

Colin knew there was an irony to his wanting to spend the rest of his life in school – a place he’d always hated – but that’s the way it was. He didn’t dwell on the irony and he generally didn’t dwell on the past. He wouldn’t have been thinking of any of these things at all if it hadn’t been for Evan’s comment about visiting his parents tomorrow. What Evan still didn’t grasp was that simply being in the same room as them was stressful for both Colin and his parents – especially if the visit wasn’t planned well in advance. Had he shown up unexpectedly, he knew they’d sit uncomfortably in the living room trying to make small talk while memories of the past filled the air between them like a poisonous gas. He’d feel waves of disappointment and judgment radiating out from them, apparent in the things they said or didn’t say, and who needed that? He didn’t, and neither did they. In the last three years, he’d tried to keep his infrequent visits to about an hour, almost always on the holidays, an arrangement that seemed to suit them all.

His older sisters, Rebecca and Andrea, had tried to talk to him about making amends to his parents, but he’d shut down those conversations the same way he’d done with Evan. Their lives with their parents, after all, had been different from his. They’d both been
wanted
, while he’d been a big fat
whoops
seven years later. He knew they meant well, but he didn’t have a lot in common with them. Both of them were college graduates and married with kids. They lived in the same upscale neighborhood as their parents and played tennis on the weekends. The older he’d gotten, the more he’d come to acknowledge that the choices they’d made in their own lives had been a lot smarter than his own. Then again, they didn’t have
serious issues
.

He knew that his parents, like his sisters, were essentially good people. It had taken him years in therapy to accept the fact that he’d been the one with the problems, not them. He no longer blamed his mother and father for the things that had happened to him or for what they had or hadn’t done; if anything, he considered himself a lucky son of two incredibly patient people. So what if he’d been raised by nannies? So what if his folks had finally thrown in the towel and shipped him off to military school? When he’d really needed them, when other parents probably would have given up, they’d never lost hope that he could turn his life around.

And they’d put up with his crap for
years
. Serious crap. They’d ignored the drinking and the pot smoking and the music cranked way too loud at all hours; they’d put up with the parties he threw whenever they went out of town that left the house in shambles. They’d overlooked the bar fights and multiple arrests. They never contacted the authorities when he broke into the beach cottage, even though he did serious damage to that place as well. They’d bailed him out more times than he could remember and paid his legal bills, and three years ago – when Colin was facing a long prison sentence after a bar fight in Wilmington – his dad had pulled some strings to strike a deal that would clear his criminal record entirely. If, of course, Colin didn’t screw it up. As part of his probation, Colin had been required to spend four months at an anger-management treatment facility in Arizona. Upon his return and because his parents wouldn’t let him stay at their home, he’d crashed again at the beach cottage, which by then was for sale. He’d also been ordered to meet regularly with Detective Pete Margolis from the Wilmington police department. The man whom Colin had beaten in the bar was a longtime confidential informant of Margolis’s, and as a result of the fight, a high-profile case Margolis was working on had gone suddenly south. Consequently, Margolis hated Colin with a passion. Having argued strongly against the deal in the first place, he then insisted on monitoring Colin regularly and at random, like a makeshift probation officer. Finally, the deal stipulated that if Colin was arrested again, for
anything
, the entirety of his original record would be reinstated and he’d automatically be sentenced to prison for nearly a decade.

Despite the requirements, despite having to deal with Margolis, who plainly itched to place him in handcuffs, it was a great deal. An
unbelievable
deal, and it was all thanks to his father… even if he and Colin had trouble speaking these days. Colin was technically banned from ever setting foot in the house again, though his dad had softened on that particular stance lately. Being permanently kicked out of the house after he’d returned from Arizona and then watching from the street as new owners took possession of the beach cottage had forced Colin to reevaluate his life. He’d ended up sleeping at friends’ places back in Raleigh, drifting from one couch to the next. Little by little, he’d come to the conclusion that if he didn’t change his life, he’d self-destruct entirely. The environment there wasn’t good for him, and his circle of friends was as out of control as he was. With nowhere else to go, he’d driven back to Wilmington and surprised himself by showing up at Evan’s door. Evan had been living there after graduating from North Carolina State and had been equally surprised to see his old friend. Cautious and a bit nervous, too, but Evan was Evan, and he had no problem with Colin staying at his place for a while.

It took some time to earn Evan’s trust again. By that point, their lives had diverged. Evan was a lot more like Rebecca and Andrea, a responsible citizen whose only experience with jail was what he’d seen on television. He worked as an accountant and financial planner, and in keeping with the fiscally prudent ideals of his profession, he’d also purchased a house with a first-floor apartment and separate entrance to help lower his mortgage payments, an apartment that happened to be vacant when Colin had shown up. Colin hadn’t intended to stay long, but one thing led to another and when he’d gotten a job tending bar, he’d moved in downstairs for good. Three years later, he was still paying rent to the best friend he had in the world.

So far, it was working out well. He mowed the lawn and trimmed the bushes and paid a reasonable rent in return. He had his own space with his own entrance, but Evan was right there, too, and Evan was exactly what Colin needed in his life right now. Evan wore a suit and tie to work, he kept his tastefully decorated house spotless, and he never drank more than two beers when he went out. He was also just about the nicest guy in the world, and he accepted Colin, faults and all. And – for God knows what reason – he believed in him, even when Colin knew he didn’t always deserve it.

Lily, Evan’s fiancée, was pretty much cut from the same cloth. Though she worked in advertising and had her own condo at the beach – her parents had bought it for her – she spent enough time at Evan’s to have become an important part of Colin’s life. It had taken her a while to warm up to him – when they’d first met, Colin had been sporting a blond Mohawk and had piercings in both ears, and their initial conversation had centered around a bar fight in Raleigh where the other guy had ended up in the hospital. For a while, she simply couldn’t comprehend how Evan could ever be friends with him. A Charleston debutante who’d attended college at Meredith, Lily was prim and polite, and the phrases she used were a throwback to an earlier era. She was also just about the most drop-dead gorgeous girl Colin had ever seen, and it was no wonder that Evan was putty in her hands. With her blond hair and blue eyes and an accent that sounded like honey even when she was angry, she seemed like the last person in the world who would give Colin a chance. And yet, she had. And like Evan, she had eventually come to believe in him. It had been Lily who’d suggested that he start taking classes at the junior college two years ago, and it had been Lily who’d tutored him in the evenings. And on two separate occasions, it had been Lily and Evan who had kept Colin from making the kind of impulsive mistake that might have landed him in prison. He loved her for those things, just as he loved the relationship between her and Evan. He’d long since decided that if anyone ever threatened the two of them in any way, he would handle it, no matter what the consequences, even if it meant he’d have to spend the rest of his life behind bars.

But all good things come to an end. Isn’t that what people said? The life he’d lived for the last three years was going to change, if only because Evan and Lily were engaged, with plans for a spring wedding already in the works. While they’d both insisted that Colin could continue to live in the downstairs apartment after they were married, he also knew they’d spent the previous weekend walking through model homes in a subdivision closer to Wrightsville Beach, with homes that featured the kind of double porches common in Charleston. They both wanted kids, they both wanted the whole white-picket-fence thing, and Colin had no doubt that within a year, Evan’s current house would be for sale. After that, Colin would be on his own again, and while he knew it wasn’t fair to expect Evan and Lily to be responsible for him, he sometimes wondered whether they were aware of how important they’d become to him in the last few years.

Like tonight, for instance. He hadn’t asked Evan to come to the fight; that had been Evan’s idea. Nor had he asked Evan to sit with him while he ate. But Evan probably suspected that had he not done those things, Colin might have ended up at a bar instead of the diner, unwinding with shots instead of midnight breakfast. And though Colin worked as a bartender, being on the other side of the bar didn’t exactly work for him these days.

Finally exiting the highway, Colin steered onto a winding county road, loblolly pine and red oak mingling on either side, kudzu playing no favorites between the two. It was less a shortcut than an attempt to avoid an endless series of stoplights. Lightning continued to strike, turning the clouds silver and illuminating the surroundings in otherworldly strobes. The rain and wind intensified, the wipers barely keeping the windshield clear, but he knew this road well. He eased into one of its many blind curves before instinctively stomping on the brakes.

Up ahead, a car with storage racks across the roof was halfway off the road at a cockeyed angle, its hazards flashing. The trunk stood propped open to the elements. As the Camaro slowed, Colin felt the rear fishtail slightly before the tires caught again. He merged into the oncoming lane to give the car a wide berth, thinking that the guy couldn’t have picked a worse time and place to break down. Not only was the storm limiting visibility, but drunks like the ones back at the diner would be setting out for home right about now, and he could imagine one of them taking the corner too fast and plowing into the back of the car.

Not good
, he thought. It was definitely an accident waiting to happen, but at the same time, it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his job to rescue strangers, and he probably wouldn’t be much help anyway. He understood the engine in his car, but only because the Camaro was older than he was; modern engines had more in common with computers. Besides, the driver had no doubt already called for help.

As he rolled slowly past the stopped car, however, he noticed the rear tire was flat and behind the trunk, a woman – soaked to the bone in jeans and a short-sleeved blouse – was struggling to remove the spare tire from its compartment. Lightning flashed, a long series of flickering camera strobes that captured her mascara-streaked distress. In that instant, he realized that her dark hair and wide-set eyes reminded him of one of the girls in his classes, and his shoulders slumped.

A girl? Why did it have to be a girl in trouble out here? For all he knew, it
was
the girl in his class, and he couldn’t very well pretend he hadn’t noticed that she needed help. He really didn’t need this right now, but what choice did he have?

With a sigh, he pulled over to the side of the road, leaving some distance between her car and his. He turned on his hazards and grabbed his jacket from the backseat. By then the rain was coming down in sheets, instantly soaking him as he exited, like the diagonal spray of an outdoor shower. Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath and then started toward her car, calculating how quickly he could change the tire and be on the road again.

“Need a hand?” he called.

Surprising him, she didn’t say anything. Instead, staring at him with stricken eyes, she let go of the tire and began slowly backing away.

I
n the past, when she’d worked in the Mecklenburg County district attorney’s office, Maria Sanchez had been in the courtroom with any number of criminals, some of whom had been charged with the kinds of violent crimes that kept her awake at night. She’d had nightmares about various cases and had been threatened by a sociopath, but the simple fact was that she’d never been quite as frightened back then as she felt right now on this deserted stretch as
that
car, driven by
that
guy, suddenly pulled to the side of the road.

It didn’t matter that she was twenty-eight, or that she’d graduated summa cum laude from UNC Chapel Hill, or that she’d gone to law school at Duke. It didn’t matter that she’d been a rising star in the district attorney’s office before finding other work at one of the best legal firms in Wilmington, or that until that moment, she’d always had a pretty good handle on her emotions. As soon as he stepped out of the car, all those truths went out the window and the only thing she could think was that she was a young woman all alone in the middle of nowhere. When he began to walk toward her, panic flooded through her.
I’m going to die out here
, she suddenly realized,
and no one’s ever going to find my body.

Moments earlier, when his car had slowly drifted past hers, she’d seen him staring at her – almost leering, like he was sizing her up – and her first thought was that he’d been wearing a mask, which was terrifying enough, but way less scary than the sudden realization that she’d actually seen his
face
. It was bruised on both sides; one eye was swollen shut, the other one bright red and bloody. She was pretty sure that even more blood was dripping down his forehead, and it had been all she could do not to start screaming. But for whatever reason, not a sound escaped her.
For the love of God
, she remembered thinking as soon as he’d passed,
please keep going. Whatever you do, please don’t stop.

But obviously God hadn’t been listening. Why would God intervene to keep her from ending up dead in a ditch out in the middle of nowhere? He wouldn’t. Instead, He’d decided to have the guy pull over, and now a man with a mangled face was gliding toward her like something out of a low-budget horror film. Or prison, from which he’d just escaped, because the guy was positively ripped, and wasn’t that what prisoners did? Lift weights all the time? His haircut was severe, almost military style – the signature of one of the gangs in prison she’d heard about? The ratty black concert T-shirt didn’t help, nor did the torn-up jeans, and the way he was holding his jacket freaked her out. In this storm, why wasn’t he wearing it? Maybe he was using it to hide…

A
knife.

Or, God forbid, a
gun
…

A squeak escaped her throat and her mind began racing through options as she tried to figure out what to do. Toss the tire at him? She couldn’t even get the thing out of the trunk. Scream for help? There was no one nearby, not a single car had passed in the last ten minutes, and she’d left her cell phone God knows where or she wouldn’t have been trying to change the tire in the first place. Run? Maybe, but the liquid ease with which he moved suggested he’d easily catch her. The only thing she could do was get back into the car and lock the doors, but he was already
right there
, and there was no way to get past him…

“Need a hand?”

It was the sound of his voice that jolted her out of her trance. Letting go of the tire, she began backing away, focusing only on creating distance between the two of them. Lightning flashed again and she noticed a blankness in his expression, almost like something elemental was missing in his personality, the piece that signaled that it wasn’t okay to rape and kill women.

“What do you want with me?” she finally choked out.

“I don’t want anything,” he answered.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I thought you might need some help changing your tire.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I can handle it myself.”

He looked from her to the flat tire, then back to her again. “Okay. Good night,” he said. Wheeling around, he started back toward his car, his figure suddenly receding. His reaction was so unexpected that for a second she felt paralyzed. He was leaving? Why was he leaving? She was glad about that – actually, she was
thrilled
about that – and yet, and yet…

“I’m having trouble getting the tire out of the trunk!” she said, hearing the panic in her own voice.

He turned on his heel as he reached his car. “Seems like it.” He reached for his door and pulled it open, ready to climb in —

“Wait!” she suddenly cried.

He squinted at her through the downpour. “Why?” he called back.

Why?
She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. But then again, she’d told him she didn’t need any help. And she didn’t, except that she did, but it wasn’t as though she could call anyone, and with her thoughts racing and jumbled, the next words spilled out involuntarily.

“Do you have a phone?” she shouted.

He closed some of the gap between, stopping when he could be heard without shouting, but not getting too close. Thank God. “Yes,” he answered.

She shifted from one foot to the other, thinking
Now what?
“I lost my phone,” she said. “I mean, I didn’t
lose
lose it.” She knew she was rambling, but the way he kept staring at her made the words impossible to stop. “It’s either at the office or I left it at my parents’, but I won’t know for sure until I get to my MacBook.”

“Okay.” He added nothing else; instead, he stood unmoving, his eyes steady on hers.

“I use that Find My iPhone thing. The app, I mean. I can track my phone because it’s synced with the computer.”

“Okay.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Can I borrow yours for a minute? I want to call my sister.”

“Sure,” he answered. He tucked the phone into the folds of his jacket and as he began to approach, she reflexively took another step backward. He placed the jacket on the hood of her car and gestured at it.

She hesitated. He was definitely odd, but she appreciated the fact that he’d stepped away. She hurried to the bundle and found his iPhone tucked inside, the same model as hers. When she pressed the button, the screen lit up and sure enough, he was getting service. But it wouldn’t do any good unless…

“Five-six-eight-one,” he offered.

“You’re giving me your code?”

“You can’t access the phone without it,” he noted.

“Aren’t you worried about giving it to a stranger?”

“Are you going to steal my phone?”

She blinked. “No. Of course not.”

“Then I’m not worried.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, but whatever. She typed in the code with trembling fingers and dialed her sister. By the third ring, she knew she’d get Serena’s voice mail. Maria did her best to keep her frustration in check as she left a message, explaining what had happened to the car and asking her sister to come pick her up. She tucked the phone back into the jacket on the hood and then stepped away, watching him.

“No answer?” he asked.

“She’s coming.”

“Okay.” When the lightning flashed again, he motioned toward the rear of her car. “While you’re waiting for her, do you want me to change your tire?”

She opened her mouth to again decline his offer, but who knew when – or if – Serena would get her message? And then there was the fact that she’d never actually changed a tire in her life. Instead of answering, she let out a breath, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“What… what happened to your face?”

“I was in a fight.”

She waited a few beats before finally realizing he wasn’t going to add anything else.
That’s it?
No further explanation?
His demeanor was so utterly foreign, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. As he stood in place, obviously waiting for the answer to his earlier question, she glanced at the trunk, wishing she actually knew how to change a tire.

“Yes,” she finally said. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love some help changing the tire.”

“Okay.” He nodded. She watched as he reached for the bundle on the hood and tucked his phone back into his pocket before slipping his jacket on. “You’re afraid of me,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re afraid I’m going to hurt you.” When she said nothing, he went on. “I won’t, but whether you believe that is up to you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because if I’m going to change your tire, I’m going to have to approach the trunk. Which means I’ll be approaching you, too.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied.

“Okay.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” he said again, then started toward her. She felt her heart squeeze as he passed within arm’s reach of her, only to feel foolish when he walked right past without slowing. He unscrewed something, then lifted the spare tire out and set it aside before he disappeared behind the trunk again, no doubt to retrieve the jack.

“One of us needs to move your car onto the road,” he said. “It needs to be level before I get the jack going, otherwise the car might slip.”

“But I’ve got a flat tire.”

He peeked around the side, jack in hand. “It won’t hurt the car. Just go slow.”

“But it will block most of the lane.”

“It’s blocking half the lane already.”

He had a point there… but…

But what if that was all part of his plan? To distract her somehow? To get her to turn her back?

A plan that included letting me use his phone? And removing the tire from the trunk?
 

Rattled and self-conscious, she got into the car and started the engine, slowly but surely edging it back onto the road and setting the emergency brake. By the time she opened the door, he was rolling the spare toward the rear tire, lug wrench in hand.

“You can stay in the car if you want,” he said. “This shouldn’t take long.”

She debated before closing the door, then spent several minutes watching in the side mirror as he continued to loosen the bolts before sliding the jack into place. A moment later, she could feel the car lifting slightly, bouncing its way slowly upward and then stopping. She watched as he finished unscrewing the bolts before sliding the tire off, just as the storm began to intensify, rain blowing in gusty sheets. The spare went on quickly, along with the bolts, and then all at once, the car was being lowered again. He placed the flat tire back in her trunk along with the jack and the lug wrench, and she felt him gently push the trunk closed. And just like that, it was over. Still, she startled a little when he tapped on her window. She lowered the glass and rain began to spit through the opening. With his face still shadowed, it was almost possible to see past the bruises and the swelling and the bloody eye. Almost, but not entirely.

“You’re good to go,” he shouted over the gale, “but you should probably get the tire fixed or replace it sooner rather than later. Your spare isn’t meant to be used permanently.”

She nodded, but before she could thank him, he had already turned and was jogging toward his car. He jerked his door open and slid behind the wheel. She heard the roar of his engine and then – before she knew it – she was alone on the road again, albeit now in a car that would get her home.

 

 

“I heard the phone ring, but I didn’t recognize the number so I let it go to voice mail,” Serena said in between sips of orange juice. Beside her at the table on the back porch, Maria nursed a cup of coffee, the morning sunlight already warming the air. “Sorry about that.”

“Well, next time, just answer, okay?”

“Can’t do that.” Serena smiled. “What if it was some crazy person trying to reach me?”

“That was the problem! I was
with
a crazy person and I needed you to rescue me.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. He sounds like a nice guy.”

Maria glared at her over the rim of her coffee mug. “You didn’t see him. Trust me. I’ve seen scary people, and he was beyond scary.”