Running Blind Read online

  “Don’t move!” Kat ordered when Carly tried to stand. She turned her attention to another bystander, and immediately contradicted herself. “You, help me get her up. She needs to be checked out at the clinic.” Then she was on her knees beside Carly. “Is anything broken? No, don’t move!”

  “I have to move if you’re going to get me up,” Carly said testily. “I’m fine. Really. I think. At any rate, I don’t think anything’s broken.” She held her hands out and Kat caught one, while the man Kat had dragooned gripped the other one and together they got her to her feet. When she reeled back, Kat was there to catch and steady her.

  “You might have a concussion,” Kat said.

  “I don’t, I’m fine—”

  “You’re going to the clinic, and I’m going with you.” Kat looked up and spotted a friend. “Mary, would you watch the café for me for a while?”

  “I’m just shaken up, honest.”

  “Carly, you go on,” Libby said firmly. “Kat’s right. I’ll take care of everything here. Wasn’t that the Collins boy?” she demanded angrily of someone.

  “Yeah, that was him. Here he comes back, thank God. He’d have been in a world of trouble if he’d kept going.”

  Carly did seem to be a bit out of it; she didn’t even look toward the truck that had hit her. Young Collins climbed out of the truck, his face white. “Is she okay?”

  “No thanks to you, dumb ass!” Libby barked. “You know better than to be speeding in town.” Libby allowed Kat to help Carly to the clinic, while she handled the more mundane chores, such as tearing a strip off the Collins kid’s hide. She also rounded up Carly’s purse and the books she’d checked out, then waited around until a deputy arrived to take her statement.

  When that was taken care of, Libby walked down to the clinic. There were a woman and child in the waiting room, but no sign of Carly and Kat, so they must’ve been taken in to see the doctor.

  Libby knew the receptionist, because there was just this one clinic in town and she’d come here herself for years. Evelyn Fortier had lived in Battle Ridge forever. She’d worked for three different doctors in this same clinic.

  “Hi, Evelyn,” Libby said as she walked up to the desk. “How on earth are you?”

  They talked a moment, catching up. They hadn’t been great friends, but they had always been friendly acquaintances. Finally Libby asked, “Any word on Carly? I hope she’s not seriously hurt.”

  Evelyn’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, of course you’re here with Carly. I should’ve realized that right away.” She tsked. “You don’t know if she has any insurance, do you?”

  “No, but Zeke will take care of all the bills, if she doesn’t.”

  “Oh, I know he will. We will need some identification of some kind for our records, before she leaves. Kat just hustled her on back and I didn’t even get to make a copy of her driver’s license.”

  “I have her purse. Let me check.”

  Good heavens, Carly’s purse was so neat and organized! A place for everything and everything in its place. The canister of pepper spray was a little startling, but not unusual. Maybe she should get some herself. Libby pulled out Carly’s wallet, all the while considering the pepper spray and noting the brand name, and opened it. There was plenty of cash, more than she’d expected to find, but not a single credit card. No driver’s license or insurance card, either.

  “Well, I don’t see one.”

  The phone rang, and Evelyn answered. Libby walked away, still shuffling through the wallet. Carly had driven one of Zeke’s work trucks to town, so surely she had a license and had it with her. The contents of the wallet were off, somehow. It was just odd. Libby’s own wallet contained two credit cards, an AARP card, an AAA card, and two grocery store rewards cards, as well as a driver’s license and her insurance cards. And pictures, of course—all of her grandkids, but still … there was nothing in Carly’s wallet to identify the owner. Nothing.

  She started searching for hidden pockets, and found one. There, shoved into a side pocket low and tight, was a card. Libby managed to wrangle the card to the surface.

  She looked down at it, immediately recognizing Carly’s photo. Then the name hit her between the eyes and her heart sank. She held in her hand a Texas driver’s license with an unsmiling photo of Carly staring back at her. The name on the license wasn’t Carly Hunt, it was Carlin Reed. Carlin Jane Reed, to be precise. She could see Carly being a nickname, but Reed? Why was her last name different?

  That, along with the lack of any other personal information, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She’d been so worried about Carly scamming Zeke, she hadn’t even considered that the girl would be so good that she herself could be scammed, as well.

  Why would she use a false name? Was she wanted by the police? On the FBI most wanted list? Then Libby mentally smacked herself in the forehead. Duh. The most logical reason for a different last name was marriage. Was Carly a married woman? Oh my God. That would break Zeke’s heart.

  What on earth was she supposed to do now?

  “Any luck?” Evelyn called.

  Libby shoved Carly’s driver’s license back in the hidden pocket. Until she decided what to do, there was no reason to share what she’d found. “No, I’m sorry. Carly must’ve left her license at home.”

  It was tempting to tell everyone what she’d found, to shout fraud at the top of her lungs when Carly—Carlin—returned, battered and unsettled, some bandages on her scraped hands but essentially whole. But maybe subtlety was called for. Before she started throwing accusations around, accusations the fraud probably had ready answers for, she was going to do a little digging on her own.

  She wasn’t leaving until she knew what the hell was going on.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  LIBBY WAITED UNTIL Carly had her hands full with laundry before she sneaked into Zeke’s office and sat at the desk chair. Zeke wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, maybe two. She had plenty of time as far as he was concerned, and if Carly came in she’d just say she was emailing her daughter.

  If she simply asked why Carly was using a false name, the girl would probably have a good answer, one that Zeke would buy without question because he was blinded by testosterone. She needed to know what she was up against before she confronted Carlin Reed. Maybe she’d find a marriage announcement out of some Texas newspaper. Were divorce announcements posted anywhere? She didn’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to look.

  Libby plugged Carly’s real name—including the Jane—into Google and hit “enter.” If she was wanted by the police, if there was an article about her online, if there were pictures of a wedding, maybe Google would provide proof. A lot of Jane Reeds came up, but after shuffling through several possibilities Libby searched again using just Carlin Reed.

  Nothing. At least, no one by that name who could be Carly. How could anyone not be on the Internet somewhere? There were links to places where she could pay to see public records, and she might have to resort to that later, but for right now that seemed a little drastic.

  Libby pushed away from the desk. Now what? The simple explanation was that Carly was married—or recently divorced and now using her maiden name. But just because it was the simple explanation, that didn’t mean it was the right one. The lack of credit cards and other paraphernalia hinted at something more.

  But what?

  BRAD WAS LYING back on the hotel bed, hands behind his head and watching some shit on the cheap-ass TV, when his computer dinged, alerting him that a message had come in. He didn’t rush to the desk to check out whatever it was; usually the alerts were nothing.

  In a couple of days, maybe three, he’d be in Cheyenne and he’d find out if the PI who’d searched his name was in any way related to Carlin. He’d tried to hack in, but the PI had impressive firewalls. Who else but Carlin would’ve hired a PI to check him out? Maybe she thought he’d given up on her. Maybe she thought she was safe, the stupid bitch.

  She made him wil