You Don't Know Me (3 page)

Annalise glanced at her companion, and for a second, the eerie feeling returned. But Nathan shook it away and held out his hand.

“I’m Nathan Decker, Annalise’s husband. I don’t think we’ve met. Are you new in town?”

The man looked Nathan over as if assessing him. Then he stood, smiled, and took his hand. Nathan had apparently passed. “I’m Frank Harrison.” He glanced at Annalise. “Annalise’s uncle.”

Uncle.

Nathan opened his mouth, waiting for words. “I . . . I didn’t
know that Lise had an uncle.” He looked at her. “You didn’t tell me you had an uncle.”

Funny, she appeared almost as shocked by this man’s pronouncement. She gave him an odd smile. “My . . . uncle Frank. From . . . Pittsburgh.”

Nathan turned back to Frank. “This is wonderful. I thought her family was all killed in the accident.”

Frank blinked as if he had forgotten the demise of her family. Then he nodded. “Yes. They were. Except I was out of the country. On business. I haven’t been back for . . . a while.”

Frank let him go, and Nathan reached for a chair. “What kind of business are you in?”

“Military.” Frank sat and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, folding his arms. “What do you do?”

“I’m in real estate. And I’m running for mayor.”

Frank drew in a breath. “Really. Hmm.”

“It’s a small town,” Lise said, almost too quickly, as if Nathan’s bid for mayor were inconsequential. “Very small.”

“Not so small that we can’t make a difference,” Nathan said, casting a glance at her. She turned away, took a sip of her coffee. Huh. “We actually swell to about twenty thousand in the summertime with all the tourist traffic up here. The right laws on the books and we can encourage more tourism, more growth, really help the families who live here year-round survive. In fact, we’re having a luncheon tomorrow with a few media folks from Duluth to talk about fresh ideas I hope to bring to the mayor’s office.”

Frank flicked a gaze over to Annalise, now staring at her coffee. She drew in a breath as she looked up. “Nathan will make a wonderful mayor. But I’m really very behind the scenes.”

What was she talking about? “Hardly. This woman is on every
committee in town—from the PTA to the blood drive. She’s the backbone of my campaign.” Nathan reached for her hand, but she had tucked it into her pocket. And her smile—yes, that was fake, like the time he’d given her touch-on lamps for Christmas.

“We need to get going to the game.” She stood. “It’s great to see you, um, Uncle Frank.”

What? “Lise, what are you doing? You suddenly have family and you’re sending him away?” Nathan turned to Frank. “Where are you staying?”

He seemed to catch Frank off guard, as if the man hadn’t thought about it. His eyes flickered to Annalise’s.

“At the Super 8,” she said.

“No, you’re staying with us. You’re family—the first of Lise’s we’ve ever met.” Nathan stood and slipped his arm around her waist. “She’s always so quiet about her family. As if they never existed.”

“She suffered a terrible loss,” Frank said quietly.

“I know. Which is even more reason for you to stay with us. We’re delighted you’re here. And if you haven’t eaten dinner, I’d love to buy you a hot dog at the volleyball game. Our Lady Huskies are undefeated in the conference and my daughter—your great-niece—is a starter on varsity. She’s got a spike that will turn you cold. Probably my wife’s genes because I was never any good at sports, although she claims she never played volleyball.”

He waited a beat for Frank to contradict him and, when he didn’t, added a shrug. “Anyway, our two boys and my mother will be at the game. They’ll be thrilled to meet you too; won’t they, honey?”

Annalise was staring at him wide-eyed. What did she want him to do? This was her only living relative. Finally a connection to his
wife’s past. Maybe he’d get more information about the accident that had claimed her parents and two siblings. And left her with that scar on her leg. The accident that still woke her, weeping, at night.

Nathan held out his hand again. “Welcome to Deep Haven, Uncle Frank.”

Frank sort of wished that the name
Uncle
actually belonged to him.

Deidre—er, Annalise had built a life for herself after all, and he
felt
like her uncle.

Frank had even wanted to give her a hug. But that might be too much for her. It wasn’t every day a woman he’d placed in WitSec saw her past appear in the coffee shop like a ghost.

But it also wasn’t every day he had to check in on one of his charges with the bad news that she might be in danger.

He’d followed her into the coffee shop, not wanting to pounce on her at the soccer practice. She looked good. She’d let her hair grow out into its natural straw-blonde color, now past her shoulders. It softened her, made her elegant as opposed to the harsh
teenager she’d been with her midnight-black hair spiked around her head, her bloodshot eyes crayoned so dark he could barely see the blue in them. She’d filled out, too, no longer drug-thin and bony, and she sported the remains of a summer tan instead of the pasty, scaly skin of living on the streets.

Annalise looked like a woman who had grown up in a healthy home, married well, and lived a life she might be proud of.

He was certainly proud of who she’d become.

Unfortunately he might have to take it all away. He’d directed her to a private table in the back and jumped right in with the bad news. “Garcia is out of prison, and he’s jumped parole.”

Annalise had slid onto the chair and blinked at him for a full second as if cataloging the name. But he knew better.

How would she ever forget any detail of what Luis Garcia had done to her? Or the threats he’d leveled against her?

Her voice emerged, low, feeble, as she set down her coffee. “How did Garcia get paroled? I thought you said that no one would let him out.”

“Luis Garcia got out because the federal prison system is overcrowded and he apparently behaved himself for the last twenty years.”

“Or he bribed someone in the system.”

He heard her cynicism and couldn’t deny the truth in her statement as she shook her head and sat back, staring out the window at her world.

“I’m sorry, Annalise. What you did saved lives. You got a murderer and drug dealer off the street—”

“And now he’s back on the streets.” She turned to him with the same dark, piercing eyes she had twenty-plus years ago. “You know he’s going to keep his promise to find me and kill me.”

He met the look with his own, the most solemn assurance he could give her. “I’ve hidden you well. No one knows you’re here—in fact, only two other people on the planet know you’re still alive.”

She drew in a breath, and he saw her chin quiver. “How are they?”

“Older. But in good health. Your father retired two years ago. They gave him a gold watch. He was in the paper.”

“I know. I googled him.”

“You shouldn’t—”

She held up her hand, and in her expression he saw a hint of the former Annalise, the one known as Deidre, who had once told him just what he could do with his idea that she should turn informant on her drug-dealing boyfriend, a lackey of Garcia’s. “I miss them. And I’m careful.”

“I hope so.” Frank leaned toward her. “Please tell me—does anyone else know?”

She drew in a breath, looking at her coffee, which she had yet to sip. “No one.”

“Not even your husband?”

She pursed her lips, shook her head. “When I met him, I was starting over. I . . . I didn’t want to tell him who I’d been, so . . . I made up a past. I told him my family had been killed in an accident and that I had come here to forget.”

“Good lies are based on truth.”

She lifted a shoulder. “After twenty years, it’s easy to believe. I’ve never had any relatives show up. My family believes I’m alone.”

“So you should be safe. We’ll find Garcia.”

She closed her eyes. So long that a chill brushed through him, made him ask, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I could be in trouble.”

It was the way her voice pitched low, the word
trouble
, that dredged up the memories, the failures. “I can’t keep you safe unless I know.”

She leaned close. “Right after . . . after I moved here, I . . . Well, I was still in love with Blake.”

Blake Hayes, the no-good boyfriend who had convinced her to run away from her perfectly decent family, made her live on the streets, and talked her into using various drugs until she forgot her own name. Thankfully, a rookie cop found her in an alley and hooked her up with Frank and an escape into WitSec in exchange for her testimony against one of St. Louis’s most wanted drug lords. It had only cost her best friend’s life. And, well, her own.

“I told you to stay away from him.”

“Frank—I was stupid back then. Blake was all I had. I was lonely here, and . . .”

“You wrote to him.”

She actually looked like she might cry. He resisted reaching out to her and instead let his hand rest on the table.

“Please tell me you didn’t use your new name.”

“I can’t remember. But I did tell him where to find me if he wanted me. Then I met Nathan and from then on lived in mortal fear that Blake would actually show up.”

“We moved him to Fairbanks, Alaska, after he got out. I didn’t want him near you, regardless of what you said.” Because, well, she’d sorta felt like his own daughter.

She met his eyes. “Thank you. You probably saved my life again.”

“All I did was offer you choices. You saved your own life. Listen, my partner is headed up to Fairbanks right now to deliver the same news to Blake. We’ll feed him a story about you being killed and end it right there.”

“Another obituary.”

He didn’t comment—couldn’t, actually, because that’s when her life caught up to them.

“Lise?”

Frank felt like a father meeting the boyfriend for the first time as he shook Nathan’s hand. Nathan Decker was exactly the kind of man Frank hoped might marry Annalise. Love her. Protect her. The lie didn’t feel too far from the truth when he introduced himself as an uncle.

Frank never expected, however, to end up in the bleachers of their small-town school, cheering for Annalise’s daughter. A cute blonde who was Annalise’s spit image. If only her parents could see their granddaughter. Even Frank could feel a tinge of grief over Annalise’s loss.

No wonder she googled her family.

“C’mon, Colleen, dig it out!” Annalise shouted.

The girls on the court were up by one game, the gym packed with fans dressed in blue and white, their roar nearly drowning out the screech of shoes on the court. The smell of popcorn and grilled hot dogs seasoned the air, along with the scent of body odor.

A crew of young men had painted their faces blue and now led the crowd in a cheer as a tall brunette took the ball back to serve. The other team, dressed in red, crouched to receive.

“Colleen’s strength is the spike. She knows how to find the hole and slam it right in the center,” Nathan said.

Nathan had taken to Frank like he might truly be family. On the other side of Nathan, their son Henry ate popcorn. Frank pegged him about ten, but he already had the wide shoulders and charming grin of Annalise’s younger brother, Ben. Probably she knew that.

Her oldest son, Jason, had joined them after the game started. Tall, also wide-shouldered, he looked like he could play middle linebacker. He sat down beside Frank, curling a small booklet in his hands. Frank had snuck a glimpse—
Romeo and Juliet
.

Annalise had finally stopped looking at him as if he might bolt. Now she cheered—and coached—as her daughter positioned herself for a spike. The other side dove, dug it out, and returned it. The brunette bumped it to the front, another set; then Colleen went up again for the spike.

It landed out of bounds.

The crowd groaned.

“C’mon, Huskies! Get the serve back!” This from the woman beside Annalise—Nathan’s mother, Helen.

She’d handed Frank a bag of popcorn about 10.4 seconds after Nathan introduced him. “About time we met a relative,” she said, but her smile suggested that she was delighted. He’d stolen a couple glances at her. Slender, even regal, with graying hair and beautiful green eyes.

Colleen went up to block. The ball bounced off her arms and slammed onto the Cardinals’ court.

“Attagirl, Colleen! Now play the net!”

Colleen glanced at her mother, grinned.

It was the grin from Annalise’s daughter—easy, whole, without fear—that convinced Frank.

He was sticking around until he knew that he’d done his job and that Annalise could indeed live happily ever after.

Annalise simply had to act normal, and they’d all live through this.

“Take it slow, Henry. Each word—sound it out.”

She sat on Henry’s bed, her arm around him, holding one side of his book, the lamp spotlighting the page. She cherished these quiet moments, helping him untangle the letters that still plagued him. Like
B
. And
D
.

He ran his finger along the line like she’d taught him to and lurched out the sentence.

He’d get this. She’d never been the best student either, but by eighth grade, she could read with the rest of her class. It just took someone never letting him give up.

He went on to the next sentence. She tried not to glance around, to the shirt hanging over his chair, the puddle of jeans and socks in the corner, the debris—he called it his treasures—piled on his dresser. Clay ashtrays and Bionicles and a couple pinewood derby cars. Ribbons and soccer participation trophies. Even a picture of him and his brother wrestling.

She probably wouldn’t change his room until he moved out.

Henry finished the paragraph and turned the page with a sigh.

“That’s enough for now, buddy. You’re doing great.” She kissed the top of his head as she stood, let him settle into the covers.

“I hate reading,” he said.

“Not forever. You’re getting better,” she said, returning to the edge of the bed. She prayed for him, then kissed his cheek, pausing for just a moment to inhale what remained of his little-boy scent. Their surprise child after two miscarriages. Named after her father.

The cherry on top of her already-blessed life.

“I like Uncle Frank,” Henry said as she got up. “He’s funny. And he knows magic. He can make things disappear.”

Exactly. But the last thing she needed was for Frank to actually become an
uncle
. More lies for her to keep track of.

“Yes, he’s real nice—”

“How come he’s never visited us before?”

At the door, she took a long breath, her hand hovering over the light switch. “He was out of the country a lot.”

“Why did he come to see you?”

“He was in the area and wanted to say hi. Good night, Henry.”

“I hope he stays forever,” Henry said as she turned off the light.

Oh, please, no.

She stopped by Colleen’s room, knocking on the door before opening it.

Colleen slid her cell phone beneath the covers.

Wonderful. Texting, probably with that troublemaker, Tucker. His name nearly rose to her lips, and the confrontation hovered there for a second.

She’d seen him tonight after the game, lingering by the drinking fountain. With black hair that hid his eyes, he carried the aura of a snowboarder, an irresponsible, bad-boy magnetism that clearly had her daughter mesmerized. He wore a snap-button black-checkered shirt over a black T-shirt, a pair of painter pants. And ear gauges.

Just the kind of boy she hoped her sweet, beautiful, smart daughter might date.

Stay away from him. He’ll destroy your life.
The words filled her throat, but she couldn’t bear to dismantle their triumphant night.

Another day.

“You were amazing tonight, honey.”

Colleen grinned.

Sometimes, in moments like this, the past echoed back to her, and Annalise was again sixteen, bundled in her bed with the pink knit afghan pulled up to her chin, bidding her mother good night.

It had all gone wrong so quickly after that.

Annalise could admit that she lived in perpetual fear that Colleen might one day fall in love with Tucker or some other greasy-haired boy who charmed her with the wrong words and stole her away from Annalise’s arms.