Identity Crisis (Sam McRae Mystery 1)

She paused looking at me. “He sounded strange. I could tell something was different about him right away. I asked why we couldn’t talk on the phone, and he said some weird shit about wiretaps. It was nuts. I would’ve thought the whole thing was BS, if he hadn’t sounded so ... unlike himself, you know?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

“We agreed to meet at his place the next day. I wanted to pick a coffee shop or something, but he didn’t want to meet in public. That bothered me. I tried to change his mind, but he insisted.

“So I went there. He looked awful. He had grown a beard and lost weight. He told me that someone in the New York Mob was after him, and they might come after me, too.”

“Did he say why?” I asked.

“He wasn’t specific. Something about a conversation he recorded. He didn’t spell it out, but I got the feeling he was blackmailing the guy.”

“Not very bright.”

“That’s Tom—smart in some ways, clueless in others. He is—” She caught herself and frowned. “Was a very clever liar. He was bright, but had no judgment.”

“So what did you do?”

“I still wasn’t sure I was in danger. I believed he thought I was, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I started thinking about what he said. For instance, I’d been getting phone calls—blocked calls—from someone who would hang up when I answered. Tom didn’t do that. He’d always try to talk to me.”

Our food came, but Melanie didn’t seem interested. She had barely sipped her coffee, and I was on my second cup.

“You really should eat,” I said.

She shrugged, then picked up a sandwich wedge and nibbled on one corner.

“What made you change your mind? About being in danger?”

“When I got home, one of my neighbors said someone had been asking about Tom and me. Someone with a New York accent, she said. She told him Tom moved out, but she didn’t tell him anything else, even though he asked a lot of questions. She said he was a little scary. Kind of a big guy with a scar. No doubt that guy who chased us today. When he left, she saw him get into a big black car.”

She put the sandwich down and stared at it. “That pretty much settled it for me. I decided to leave and get a motel room. I packed as much as I could into a bag and left. I figured I’d drive until I found something out of the way. While I was looking around, I noticed a black car that seemed to be following me. I freaked out. Lucky for me I happened to be near a state police barracks. When I pulled in, the car took off.

“I waited a while, then went back to my apartment and called a cab. I had the driver take me to the domestic violence center. I watched to make sure we weren’t followed. They fixed me up in a shelter home. I told them Tom was violating the order. Technically, that was true, though it wasn’t why I was seeking shelter. Anyhow, that’s where I was for some time.”

“There was no one you felt you could turn to?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to put anyone else at risk,” she said. “And I didn’t want to go back to the motel, because it seemed too dangerous at that point. Someone could call and ask if I was registered. The shelter home locations are confidential. No one but the staff and the residents know where they are. I just needed to buy time. I knew I couldn’t stay there forever.”

“So you decided to leave town.”

“Yes, a couple of days ago. I made the arrangements quickly.” She looked at me. “Did Jenna tell you I was coming?”

I nodded. “She had your best interests at heart.”

“I know. I’m glad she did, actually.”

I wanted to believe that was true.

“Did Jenna tell you I called her?” I asked.

Melanie hesitated. “I don’t recall her saying that.”

“Really? Because she told me she mentioned it.”

She shook her head. I couldn’t think of any reason for Jenna to lie, but I could think of a few reasons Melanie might.

“Even so, why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

“Why?” she said, looking disgusted. “So I could get a restraining order against the Mob?”