Real Shadows Page 2

  After telling Karla everything, she had insisted I move to North Dakota and start fresh. She made living in Small Town, USA sound so wonderful and safe. She also pointed out that it was a far cry from California and, where a stranger wouldn’t stand out in the busy streets of California, a stranger would definitely stand out in Brant, North Dakota.

  So, I had packed up everything I owned, pulled out every cent I had in the bank, filled up my gas tank, and had taken off the next day, after taking care of my work, rental, and utilities obligations.

  And now, driving through the great state of Montana, I was almost to my destination, and, hopefully, new life.

  A life where I didn’t fear every shadow.

  Chapter 2

  Xander~

  North Dakota in July could be just as warm as Florida. The sweat dripping down my face and back could attest to that.

  But I loved it.

  The winters in North Dakota didn’t leave much room for outdoor work or activities, so during the warmer months, I relished in the physical activity working construction brought on. Yeah, technically, I was a contractor and owner of the company, but that didn’t mean I had let the titles turn me into being lazy and out of touch with the manual labor side of things. I still loved working with my hands no matter how many hours I spent behind a desk.

  Eight years ago, I had only been twenty-two-years-old when a horrible snowstorm had claimed the lives of both my parents. They had been victims of a car accident caused by a tourist who had been inexperienced at driving in the snow. The accident had taken her life too, but, at the time, that hadn’t felt like a consolation. My parents had been taken from this world too soon, and it had taken me years to rid myself of the hate and resentment. The pain and sadness of their loss was still there, but I’ve managed to learn to live with those dormant emotions that made random appearances every now and again.

  With that horrendous loss, I had been willed everything my parents had owned. Being the only child, it had all fallen in my lap. Including my father’s construction company. Daniel Raynes had been the muscle behind Raynes Construction and Sela Raynes had been the brains behind everything else. My parents had been a phenomenal pair, and I could only hope that they were the same dynamic duo up in Heaven.

  It had been a struggle to deal with my grief and the change of direction in my life, but my best friend and childhood buddy, Trevor Craig, had done his best to get me through those dark, struggling times. I had just graduated from college and had been ready to move to New York and start my life as a financier. I had degrees in business and finance and had been ready to take on the world. But with the loss of my parents, maintaining what my father and mother had built mattered more to me than a high-profile career in New York. Overnight, my priorities had changed, and I’ve not regretted one day of my decision since then.

  However, the need to sustain my parents’ legacy had left me little time to do what most small-town folks did, and that was marry and have a family. The first three years after my parents’ deaths, I had spent every waking minute learning the business from the ground up, and keeping the company from dipping into the red. I had learned that the winter months consisted more of maintenance and repairs due to the harsh winters. And I had learned that the summer months consisted of building the town folk’s dreams as fast as I could, while still giving them quality work.

  And while I eventually got the hang of things and felt comfortable enough to believe I was making my parents proud, the family thing had still been on the back burner of my life. Trevor had gone and married his wife, Karla, a few years ago, and they were working diligently on kids. Or so, Trevor keeps telling me when I ask him why he looks so tired all the damn time.

  As for me, I kept my dalliances casual, and never with a woman from town. Brant was too small to date a local without the expectation of marriage after the second date.

  No.

  If I needed to get laid, I spent the weekends in Grand Forks or one of the other larger neighboring towns. It was less messy that way. Plus, while I didn’t have any objections to getting married, it was hard to date women you’ve known all your life and looked at as little sisters.

  I knew, sooner or later, I was going to have to get on board with some serious dating, though. I just wasn’t in a hurry just yet. I was only thirty. I still had a good five years left before I started to feel the panic about my own mortality.

  “Be careful. You might get your suit dirty.” I didn’t even turn around. I stuck my arm out behind me and greeted Trevor with my middle finger. I heard his chuckle. “You’re such a charmer.”

  I smiled, finished measuring the stud gap, and turned around. “What the hell are you doing here? Because you sure as shit weren’t invited.” I asked.

  Trevor smiled, showing me all his perfectly straight teeth. “I don’t need an invitation,” he retorted. “I’m a goddamn delight. I know I’m always welcomed here.” Trevor Craig was not a goddamn delight, but he was always welcomed here.

  I pulled the hand towel from my back pocket and wiped my face. “No,” I countered. “Your wife is a delight and she’s always welcomed here.”

  This time, he flipped me off, but he was still smiling. “Seriously, though,” he teased. “When are you going to get it through your thick head that you’re the boss, Xan? Hire someone for this shit.”

  I was currently working on extending my personal home shed, and I was not wearing a suit. “Probably because all my guys are currently getting their asses kicked by three different projects that need to be finished by the time the first clouds start to roll in,” I replied. I reached down, grabbed my bottle of water and took a swig, before adding, “Besides, it’s a goddamn shed, Trev. If I can’t do something like an addon to my shed, I have no business wearing that suit you know I don’t ever wear, asshole.” He just smirked. “So, what are you doing here?”

  Trevor just let out a rough laugh, and I eyed him as he ran his hand over the back of his neck. A nervous gesture, for sure. “Uh, I stopped by to invite you over for dinner,” he answered, and my guard shot up like a cannon.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Since when have you ever come over to officially invite me over for dinner?” I asked. “Usually one of you just shoots me a text with an open invitation.”

  Trevor ducked his head and grimaced. “Well…Karla’s hoping to butter you up with all your favorites so-”

  “No,” I said, stopping him. “No, no, no, no, no, Trev.” I shook my head for emphasis. “I am not letting her set me up with another blind date th-”

  The asshole laughed. “No, no,” he chuckled, “it’s nothing like that.”

  “Sure, it’s not,” I deadpanned. Karla had an unreasonable fear that I was going to die a lonely, old man even though I assured her that wasn’t the case.

  Trevor stuck his hands in his front pockets and just smiled. “I swear,” he promised. “While she is going to try to butter you up for a favor, it’s nothing like that.”

  I cocked my head at him. “What is it, then? A new addition to the house? A remodeled kitchen? A better-looking husband?”

  “Fuck you, dude,” he snorted. “I can remodel a kitchen on my own, you know.”

  I laughed. “What does she want, Trev?”

  He shook his head. “Nu uh, buddy,” he replied. “This is Karla’s deal and I’m not going to end up in the doghouse because I ruined this for her.” Trevor kept shaking his head to emphasis his convictions.

  “I swear to God, Trev, if I show up and there’s a woman there, I-”

  He threw his hands up in surrender fashion. “I swear, Xander,” he laughed, “it’s nothing like that.”

  I planted my hands on my hips and regarded my best friend. “Does she need a kidney or something?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. “She doesn’t have to ply me with my favorites if she needs a kidney or something, you know.”

  Trevor’s stupid grin widened. “As far as I know, all her major organs are working fine,” he volleyed. “Bu
t it’s good to know yours are up for option if that ever changes.”

  I threw my sweaty rag at him.

  The lucky bastard saw it coming and side-stepped the assault. “Just…just be there, Xan,” he pleaded.

  I let out a sigh.

  Trevor has been my best friend since forever, and when he married Karla, she had become my best friend-in-law. It helped that she was a sweetheart and never felt threatened by my close friendship with her husband. She had embraced me as her friend too, and the rest was history.

  “What time?” I asked, resigned to knowing that I was never going to deny Karla in the first place.

  “Around six,” Trevor replied as he turned to head back to his truck. “Nothing fancy.” I grunted as his laugh faded, getting into his truck.

  Brant, North Dakota didn’t do fancy. The fanciest thing we had here was a water fountain in the middle of town square that a tourist donated some five years ago, or so. The woman had fallen in love with our ‘quaint little town’ and just had to add to it. It was a nice fountain, but it didn’t do anyone any good during the winter when it would freeze over.

  Turning back to the shed, I knew I had to move some ass now. I had been planning on working into the night, but now that I was expected for dinner at the Craigs’, that was a no-go. I set my phone alarm for 5pm, picked up my measuring tape and leveler, and got back to work. It wasn’t until my alarm went off that I started to wonder what the hell was so important that Karla felt she needed to ply me with rib-eye steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and whiskey. My stomach started growling at the thought, and I realized, it didn’t matter. A home-cooked meal was a home-cooked meal.

  Chapter 3

  Fallon~

  I wish I could say I had gotten some quality sleep, but that’d be a lie. My nerves had started firing like an electric storm the moment I had produced my I.D. to secure my roadside motel room in Montana.

  And they had stayed firing all night long.

  Over the years, all I could conclude was that, whoever was stalking me, must work with computers or law enforcement in some fashion. How else would they constantly be able to find me? After the second time I had to move, I had suspended all my social media accounts. I had limited all my internet use and I really, naively, believed that would be enough to save me.

  It hadn’t been.

  Since the police couldn’t or wouldn’t help me, when I wasn’t working, I had spent all my free time researching stalking, both the victims and perpetrators. And the more I had researched, the more alarmed I had become as I realized just how easy technology made things for a stalker.

  Our information was everywhere.

  Even if you changed your name, a good hacker could find that out. Hell, a mediocre hacker could find that out. That, along with the part in me that was still a fighter, were the reasons I hadn’t resorted to changing my identity just yet. Sure, I was scared. Sure, I lived in a constant state of paranoia. Sure, I had to upend my life constantly and start over. Sure, I was living like a scared rabbit. But I wasn’t quite ready to wave the white flag just yet and let this…person drive me into losing my identity altogether.

  Moving and starting over was akin to running, but it wasn’t giving up. It was an attempt at a better life and a tribute to hope that he or she wouldn’t find me again. Changing my name would feel too much like letting my stalker win. Sure, they were winning the battles, but I was still forcing them to engage in the war.

  I was still fighting.

  I wasn’t necessarily winning, but I was still fighting.

  Handing my I.D. over to the clerk had been nerve racking, but I had convinced myself that, even if he did find out I had been in Montana, he couldn’t know if I was still there or had moved on. Maybe he would give me some credit and think I was trying to outsmart him by showing up in Montana but ending up in Florida.

  God, please let him think I’m in Florida.

  It wasn’t until I was secured inside the motel room that I realized just how bad my paranoia had sparked this time around. There’s no way he could find me this quickly, and even if he did, he never made his presence known right away. He always bade his time. Of course, this was the first time I’ve left California, so who knows what that might trigger in this psychopath.

  But I still felt the unrest of the last six years burrowing inside every muscle in my body. The aches of stress, paranoia, and fright were so embedded in my body, I no longer knew how to exist without them. If I woke up one morning feeling wonderful, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

  Before checking out of the motel room this morning, I had walked over to the lot next door where it housed a quaint little diner. I had eaten a quick breakfast, gone back to the motel, gathered my stuff and then had checked out. Now I was sitting in my car, ready to finish my road trip and get to Brant. I pulled out my cheap disposable cellphone and dialed the only number I knew by heart and have dialed for human interaction in six years.

  Karla answered on the third ring. “Hey, girlie,” she greeted. “How’s the drive going?”

  “It’s good,” I answered. “I was going to try to drive all the way through, but I thought it’d be best if I took a breather. I don’t need to be on the road sleepy and desperate. Not a good combo.”

  “No, it’s not,” she replied softly. “When can I expect you?”

  “Probably super late, Kar,” I told her. “I’m sorry I didn’t plan this better b-”

  “Stop it,” she chided. “You know it doesn’t matter what time you show up.”

  “Well,” I hedged, “I…uh, was kind of thinking that maybe I should keep driving and make random motel stops until I get to Wisconsin, maybe. I can backtrack by sleeping in my car.”

  “Fallon,” she gasped in a universal mom voice, “you know damn well how dangerous sleeping in your car is.”

  “I know…but I feel like, I don’t know…like I need to do more to throw him off my track,” I reasoned. “And I’ll make sure to sleep somewhere safe. Or…maybe, I can plead with a motel owner, and tell them that I’m fleeing from my abusive cop husband or something.”

  Karla’s sigh sounded worrisome. “Do…do whatever you feel you need to do, Fallon,” she relented. “I just want you to be safe.”

  “I know,” I replied because I really did know. Karla’s concern for me was genuine and I felt guilty for bringing my drama to her doorstep, no matter how much she welcomed me. “I would just feel better knowing I did my best to keep this from…tainting you.”

  She huffed. “Do not worry about me, Fallon,” she scoffed. “I have Trevor, and he’s enough to make me feel safe.”

  My heart panged with envy. I haven’t dated since the second time I moved and Rob, my boyfriend at the time, had dumped me because he said my level of crazy exceeded that of most girls.

  Normal girls.

  After that, my need to be a part of someone waned to the nonexistent need it was now. Having no faith in the police, no faith in men, and the refusal to endanger possible friends, I had started living a solitary existence. I had worked where I could get a job but kept to myself. Sure, there were moments of loneliness, but with fear and paranoia ever present, those brief moments didn’t last long.

  “Well, I figure I could arrive at your place tonight, sleep for a few hours, drive to Milwaukee, which is only nine hours or so, and dive back. That’d be an eighteen-hour drive. That’s not too bad.”

  I could hear Karla hemming on her end of the phone. “Hmm, that could work,” she reluctantly agreed. “You could probably even drive a little further and stay the night somewhere else in Wisconsin, giving off the impression that Wisconsin is where you’re looking to settle down.”

  “I can probably go a little south and stay my final night in Indiana,” I said, thinking out loud. “It could work.”

  “Hey,” she burst out, suddenly sounding positive, “since it’s summertime and I’m not working, I could totally ride with you. We can take turns driving and that way it will cut your trav
el time in half.”

  “Karla, I can’t ask you to do that,” I told her, immediately refusing her offer. I’ve never met her husband and the last thing I wanted to do was involve his wife more than I already have.

  “You’re not asking me,” she pointed out.

  “Besides,” I cut in, “I have no idea who this person is or how they are able to find me. The last thing I need is to…set them off if they think I’m with someone. Stalking me might not be enough if they think someone is helping me.”

  “Okay, okay, okay,” she rushed out. “It was just an idea.”

  “No, no, no,” I quickly said. “I love that you offered, but…Karla, you have no idea the guilt I feel dragging you into this. I’d rather…I’d rather keep you out of the fray as much as possible.”

  “Fallon, you’re my friend,” she whispered through the phone. “You’ve been my friend since we were children. You got me through some of the worst times in my life.”

  “The same goes,” I told her. “I just…I need to feel that I can control some of this, you know. And that includes how I limit how much this touches those around me, especially you.”

  “Okay,” she mumbled unhappily. “I get it, Fal. I do.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed, relieved.

  “So, call me when you get here, and then you can catch up on some sleep,” she said, reciting the plan. “Go do your extra drive and, when you get back, everything will be set up in the guest room for you.”

  “Okay, sounds good,” I replied. “I’ll see you soon, friend.”

  “I can’t wait,” she said, a smile in her voice.

  “Okay, bye.” She returned the departing remark and we hung up.

  I turned the ignition to my grey 2009 Saturn Aura and, once again, I was grateful it started. Now, it wasn’t as if it was on its last leg or anything, but my money was hard-earned, and I didn’t squander it. Once it occurred to me that I might really have to spend my life moving from place to place, I made sure to save as much money as I could. Seriously. Scrooge would be proud.