A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus Reagan Keeter (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

“Does he have a theory about them?”

“No. All he could say for sure was that the ID wasn’t linked to any crimes. But think about the timing of it all. She had an alias before she was arrested and after. It’s not something new. So what does it mean?”

Liam considered the possibility that the second alias pointed to identity theft. Then again, there was nothing on her record, and since Ryan hadn’t found any crimes tied to the ID, he was back to his original theory. “I think Elise was hiding from someone.”

Only now he wondered how long she had been hiding from someone.

Liam Parker

Liam could feel a certain paranoia taking hold. A feeling that he couldn’t let his guard down, not even for a second. Even after getting off the phone with Anita, he watched the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He listened to the radio calls to see if any sounded like a request for police assistance. He looked at every person in every car they passed to make sure that person wasn’t looking at him and examined the few who did for signs of recognition or alarm.

To a degree, that paranoia had been present ever since he had evaded arrest. It was the whole reason he had dumped his cell phone in the trash. But it was getting stronger, and by the time Liam reached the hotel, he was exhausted. He couldn’t understand how those on the run lived with that paranoia long-term. Maybe it was something you got used to.

He went to his room and hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob outside. (That should have been task number one after checking in.) Then he put Anita’s gun in the small safe beside the mini fridge; he was more likely to shoot off his own foot than do anything else with it and didn’t want to carry it around any longer than he had to.

He pulled out his phone and clicked on the photo Anita had sent him. He stared at it for a long time. He wondered if there might be a reason for the fake ID other than the ones he’d considered. What if the aliases were not to protect Elise from someone who was after her but the reason she was killed?

That theory had a ring of truth that sent chills through his body. Had he been looking at this whole thing upside down?

By itself, Liam didn’t feel like the theory got him any closer to figuring out who had killed Elise or why. It did, however, introduce new questions that might. Like: What was she doing with the ID? Why did she have two aliases? Was Ryan correct—were there more? If so, why did she need more aliases?

Liam didn’t know much about fake IDs. Other than buying alcohol as a teenager or running from the police, he certainly didn’t know why anybody would want one. But he did know somebody who might be able to help him fill in the blanks.

Jacob.

Looking for him on Facebook would be pointless. He didn’t know Jacob’s last name, and it was too late to go digging his phone out of the CVS trashcan. It would have been emptied by now anyway.

Then he had an idea. He logged into his AT&T account from his phone. Navigating the website on the small screen was difficult and it ultimately took a detour to Google to find what he was looking for: a call log.

Jacob’s number had been the last one Liam dialed, making it easy to find. He punched the digits into his burner and waited.

Jacob Reed

Jacob stopped by the Heartland Nursing Home with a check for Felix Winkler. “Get her back into her old room,” he told the nursing home administrator when he handed it over. Then he found the door on the second floor with the paper flowers stuck to it. His mother was alone inside, watching Wheel of Fortune with the volume turned up loud.

Jacob stepped in front of the screen so she knew he was there and her face lit up. She muted the TV and used both armrests to push herself out of the chair—an act Jacob noticed had become considerably harder than it had been the year before.

“They’re going to move you back,” he said when she hugged him.

“You don’t need to do that. I’m fine where I am.”

Jacob knew she was lying, and he was glad that, on this—his last—visit to see her, he could do something that would make her happy.

He took off his jacket, planning to stay for a while, and hung it from a hook on the back of the door. He sat down on the footstool in front of his mother’s chair and took her hands in his. “I have to go away for a while.” Actually, he would to have to go away forever, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that.

She looked concerned. “What for?”

“Work.”

“They’re sending you to another factory? Why?”

More and more often, Jacob’s mother confused him with her brother, Howard, who had worked at a General Motors plant years ago. Today was one of those days. He wished he’d said goodbye on his previous visit, when she was lucid.

Normally, he’d play along, pretend to be Howard, say he had a message from her son, and usually that message would simply be that he loved her. He couldn’t bring himself to do that today. He couldn’t stand the thought that he would have to leave Chicago without her ever knowing, and he didn’t want to pass such a message through “Howard,” who had died last year. If he did that, he feared she would think he didn’t care enough to say goodbye in person.

“No, Mom. It’s me. Your son.”

Confusion crinkled her face, folding the skin along deep wrinkles. She shook her head. “No, you’re Howard. My son’s just a boy. You’re not a boy.”

“I’m your son, Mom.”

“Why are you saying that? Why are you trying to