Obsession by Karen Robards Page B

check.
    Think. You have to go somewhere.
    Clothes: She needed clothes that were hers, clothes that fit, clothes that she could wear while going out and about without attracting undue attention. She needed underwear. She needed her purse, and her driver’s license and credit cards and money. . . .
    In the middle of the narrow strip of tired grass that separated the blistering parking lot from the shady street, she stopped dead.
    She wasn’t going home. She wasn’t going anywhere.
    She couldn’t. She didn’t have any way to get there. She had no car, no money, and nobody she could trust to call for help.
    As she faced that awful truth, her heart started to pound. Her fingers curled into fists. Her . . .
    “Katharine?” a man’s voice called.

7
    Katharine jumped what felt like a mile in the air, stumbling over her own cramping feet as she whirled to see a black Chevy Blazer pulling to a halt not ten feet away. It was leaving the parking lot, and had paused at the stop sign at the junction of the parking lot entrance and the street. The driver’s-side window was rolled down. The man behind the wheel was looking her over with a frown.
    Recognizing him, she felt a wave of relief.
    “Dan!” Waving, she stumbled toward the car. He was the answer to a prayer. Her neighbor, the doctor. They might have issues about his garbage or her cat—okay, so she couldn’t remember—but at least he didn’t want to kill her. That she was sure about. Well, fairly sure. “Can you possibly give me a lift?”
    “Sure.” His eyes slid over her once more, and his frown deepened. But if that meant he was harboring reservations about doing as she asked, too bad, because she was already on her way around the car. Whatever the frown was about, it didn’t stop him from leaning over to open the passenger door for her from the inside. Slipping into the black-leather seat, which was hot from the sun and which felt wonderful because of it, she closed the door and pressed the automatic lock button, which with an audible click locked the car up tight.
    Just in case.
    “Thanks.” Giving him a quick, grateful smile, she cast a—she hoped—furtive glance back over her shoulder. A woman was walking out the same exit she had just used, and several people were now scattered throughout the parking lot, going their different ways, but none of them seemed to be in any way looking for or connected to her. They for sure weren’t Starkey or Bennett, which was a major plus.
    “Not a problem.” If he was curious about what was going on with her, he didn’t show it. His voice and expression remained untroubled. “Fasten your seat belt.”
    The Blazer started moving again, turning left onto the shady street with its tidy row of older, two-story brick houses across from the hospital as Katharine obediently fastened her seat belt. A slim young woman with a shiny dark ponytail and jeans pushed a stroller with a toddler in it along the sidewalk in front of the houses. A white minivan with a ladder on the top and some kind of lettering on the side rumbled past. Two prepubescent boys careened down the street on bicycles, heading straight toward them, and Dan swerved around them without comment.
    With her seat belt secure, Katharine let her head drop back onto the warm, cushiony headrest with a silent sigh of relief. Against all odds, it looked like she had escaped.
    From what? The question ate at her. She felt like she should know.
    But she didn’t. The harder she tried to remember, the more elusive anything beyond the present became.
    “Where to?” Dan asked after a moment, which she spent working on remaining calm. Among other things, this involved doing her best to get her breathing and heart rate under control, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, and letting her feet slide unobtrusively out of those torturous shoes.
    Good question.
    Her head rolled toward him, and their eyes met as he stopped at the first intersection. He gave her a small, encouraging