Dirty Secrets

Part 34

Jack's narrow eyes followed Packer's car as it drove away. Lyla couldn't organize her thoughts quickly enough to say anything rational except, "Jack!"

He whispered, "Can we talk?" He scanned the street, obviously paranoid. 

The nosy next-door neighbor stepped out onto her front porch in her shabby plaid bathrobe, sipping loudly from a can of cheap beer.

"Sure. Yeah," Lyla replied. It seemed to take forever to find her keys and to steady her hand sufficiently to insert the key into the door lock.

Jack slipped into the entryway behind her and pushed the door closed. After an anguished pause, he said, "So. Hey. How you doing? You okay?" He offered a congenial smile. 

She'd almost forgotten how beautiful he was with his warm brown eyes and square jaw.

"Yeah. I'm good." 

"Yeah?" He shifted his weight from foot to foot. 

"Feels like they're making a big deal out of nothing really."

"So, did they hypnotize you or anything like that?"

"Hypnotize? What?"

"I don't know what they do in places like that. Or what they call it." His face flushed with embarrassment. "I mean, is it like on TV?"

"I mean, kinda," she said, pulling the elastic from her ponytail. She shook out her hair, anxiously combing her fingers through it.

God, I'm not even wearing makeup. 

He proceeded with caution. "When they brought you into the hospital... You must have told them something about what happened, right?"

"I don't know. I don't remember too much about that."

Obviously, that wasn't the answer he'd hoped for. He dropped the pretense of a social visit, his tone now serious. "Since you been in there, you talk to a lot of doctors and therapists. And they put you on some kind of drugs, right?"

She nodded.

"So did you tell them anything about all that? What we did?"

"No, I don't think so."

"You're not sure?" 

He exhaled a deep breath then took a quick glance out the living room window. "I had cops at my house," he continued. "Said they talked to you."

"I definitely didn't tell them anything. The cops. That I'm sure of."

He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his anxiety jumping two levels.

She pulled her phone from her back pocket. With a grin, she said, "Look. New phone. My old one's gone. They can't get it."

He stepped closer. "They don't need your phone. They got phone records."

She deflated. 

He took the phone from her hand, opened the door, and set it on the porch railing. He placed his phone next to hers then went back into the house.

"They got our texts," he said sharply. "Searches. Everything."

"How? I mean, are you sure?"

"Yeah, totally sure." He looked out the window. "So don't text me. Or call me."

"Okay. I definitely won't."

He leaned in close. "So listen. They know we were on that hill the day before that dude's body and his truck was found. Our phones gave us up."

Her eyes widened.

"Yeah, that's what the cops told me."

"So what did you say?" she asked with a quivering voice.

"Totally denied everything. Told them I don't know what they're talking about."

She ran fingers through her knotted hair.

He lowered his voice. "Right after you went off in that ambulance - and then I didn't know what happened to you - I started thinking that they were probably gonna wanna check my car. You know, the trunk."

"Holy shit!" She gasped.

"Lucky I jumped on that or I'd be sitting in prison right now."

"Wait. What?"

"I hid my car," he said. "But here's the messed up part. They got a search warrant. And when they showed up at my house the next day I told them the car was stolen. That's all I could do."

Lyla clamped her eyes shut. This sounded bad. Terribly bad.

"That lady cop came at me hard. She called me out. Said something like what a coincidence my car gets stolen the day before they show with the warrant. Her partner's like you can go to jail for filing a fake stolen vehicle report. Then they said they're gonna work 24/7 to find the car." Anger crept into his voice. "And if they do, I'm totally fucked." 

The unstable stack of thoughts in her head collapsed one on top of the next.

"So I need to know what you told them," Jack said.

"I didn't tell the cops anything."

"What about the doctors?"

"I kept it all a secret," she replied. "Just like I promised. I didn't say anything. About any of that."

"You're sure? One hundred percent?" 

She nodded vigorously but she could see that he wasn't persuaded, not by a long shot. 

"You didn't say anything to your boyfriend?"

"Who?"

Jack rolled his eyes. 

"No," Lyla said. "That guy is just a friend."

"I'm the guy who came after you that night to make sure you were okay."

"I know that."

"I'm the guy that..." He lowered his head. He couldn't finish his sentence.

She placed her hand gently on his shoulder. "I know that," she repeated. "I wouldn't even be here right now if it wasn't for you."

His eyes met hers just as Lyla's began to spill. 

"I'll never forget what you did for me, Jack. Please believe me. I would never let anything happen to you." She collapsed against his chest, sobbing. "I'll tell them it was all my fault. You were only trying to protect me."

Reluctantly, he put his arm around her. "Try to remember," he said in a low voice. "Please try to remember what you told them."

"It's a secret. Our secret. I would never..."

She felt his chest fall when he released a long, sad sigh. He held her for a moment before saying, "Look. I gotta bounce." He took a step toward the door. "Let me know if you can remember what you told them."

"I will."

"We'll figure out a way to meet someplace."

She nodded.

He opened the door and poked his head outside. The next-door busybody wasn't on her porch. Jack handed the phone to Lyla and checked his messages. His mouth tightened.

"What?" she asked.

"He's back." He showed her his phone.

Keenan: You don't wanna take this any further, dude. Trust me.

She clamped her eyes shut.

He tucked his phone away and jogged off the porch, across the driveway, and dashed down the sidewalk.

When she checked her phone, she, too, had a message.

Keenan: They're gonna pay, Kitten. Both of them.