Chapter 3: Getaway Car

He hadn’t heard that name in so long. He hadn’t seen her face in so long. He felt like he was in the middle of one of his many nightmares, but there was no waking up from this one.

“What the h*ll did you just call me?” He barked out, trying to intimidate her. She didn’t cower, though. He should have known better.

Instead, she hit the flashlight out of his hand, pointing it directly in his face. He momentarily felt pride. He’d taught her that maneuver years ago. Of course, he still had a gun pointed at her, so she hadn’t gone after his weapon. He knew, though, that she didn’t care about it. What was a gun to her when her dead boyfriend was suddenly alive?

“Don’t you dare,” she seethed out. She’d gone from shock to anger in record time. “Who the h*ll do you think you’re trying to fool right now?”

Angela had never been a woman to doubt her instincts. Others in her position might have felt distressed or confused. They may have believed that their dead loved one was just a hallucination or a figment of their imagination. Not her, though. She felt the anger sharply course through her veins.

“I go by Diego now,” he sighed in resignation. He lowered his gun and put out his hand for his flashlight. She reluctantly handed it over. He walked over to the door and turned on a light. It was a harsh fluorescent and they appraised each other warily.

His hair was much longer now, tied up in a messy bun on top of his head. He’d had to stay clean-cut on the force, but now he had a thick, dark beard covering the lower half of his face. She noticed his muscles were much larger and well-defined now. He’d always been fit, but now his physique was intimidating.

She was torn between a desire to run into his arms and embrace him and the need to kick the sh*t out of him. Considering his appearance, she decided verbal sparring would have to do.

“You look pretty good for a dead guy,” she spat at him.

He looked at her sadly. “Then let me stay dead,” he said quietly. The wind hit the outside door, causing them both to jump. “You have to go.” His voice was commanding and intimidating again. He couldn’t let her be found.

He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out of the room and through the warehouse. She struggled against him, but he easily overpowered her. Soon, they were outside.

“My boss will be here in 10 minutes,” he said quickly. “Go back to wherever the h*ll you came from and forget this ever happened.”

“Daniel, don’t,” she started.

“It’s Diego,” he said harshly, cutting her off. “You don’t know me anymore, Angela. You don’t want to know me. So go.”

She felt tears springing to her eyes, though she couldn’t tell if they were from anger or sadness. Everything about this situation was bizarre. She’d followed this lead so she could finally put him to rest. After three years, she was still processing his death. Yet here he was, completely healthy, standing in front of her. For her part, she didn’t move.

“I deserve answers,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what the h*ll is going on.”

“You’re leaving whether you want to or not,” he spat out. “Where did you park?”

She didn’t respond, just glared at him.

He moved quickly, wrapping his arms around her and wedging his hand into her pocket. He had her phone in his hand before she could even think to fight back.

“You haven’t changed your password,” he said, more to himself than to her. Her password was his birthday.

He opened her location app, easily finding where she’d parked her car. He grabbed her by the arm again and dragged her in that direction. She dug her feet in, hit him, did whatever she could to stop his progress. Finally, he grabbed her around the waist, throwing her over his shoulder. He carried her the entire quarter mile to her car.

At least she’d been smart enough to hide her car, he thought glumly. She was always just a little bit too good at her job for his liking. He’d always admired her tenacity to get a story, but it was often at the risk of her safety.

When they’d finally reached her car, he set her down and put her phone back in her hand. He motioned for her to get into the car, but she just crossed her arms, challenging him. He moved at her again, this time going after her keys, but she was prepared. She grabbed the keys from her pocket and threw them into the woods. He groaned in frustration, jogging toward the general direction she’d thrown them.