Read Broken for Free Online Page A

eyes move all over her. “I can imagine.”
    “Leave me alone.”
    “Or what? What are you going to do, Laila Torres?”
    Something in her eyes catches.
    He knows he got to her.
    “That’s right. I know your last name. Sure took some doing, but I know. That’s why I’m here in June and not February. Anybody
     can be tracked down these days. Unless you’re Osama bin Laden, anybody—and I mean anybody—can be tracked down.”
    “My last name is no big secret.”
    “I’d bet a hundred dollars your license doesn’t say Torres. Then again, I don’t have a hundred bucks to bet with. But you
     most certainly do.”
    James smiles as she stands. “You can leave now, but we’ll continue this conversation.”
    “We’re not continuing anything.”
    “What are you going to do, Laila? Who are you going to tell? Who can you go to to help you out? I dare you to go to the police.
     Go ahead.”
    James examines every inch of her as she moves away. Then he takes the napkin on the table and starts to rip it in even, clean
     strips, dropping them into the coffee cup.
    He’s going to enjoy every second of this.
    •   •   •
    This is what it feels like to be a murderer.
    No different than the day before. No different except for waiting for someone to come and get you, waiting every morning and
     afternoon and night, waiting for the inevitable.
    For six months she has carried this guilt carefully wrapped in a black cloth and bundled in her backpack over her shoulder.
     For six months Laila has forced herself to move on. Not feeling any different than she did before it happened, yet knowing
     that she will never be the same.
    But just as the waiting feeling was beginning to subside, this man shows up and every fear that she’s been carrying with her
     finally gets unpacked and laid out on the side of the road.
    For four hours as she’s dealt with customers and counted money and deposited checks and slips, Laila has been debating about
     leaving work, getting the three or four valuables she has in her apartment, and taking off.
    She knows how to do this.
    She’s a seasoned veteran at leaving everything behind.
    The question isn’t whether she can do it. The question is how far she can get without being followed.
    Every time she passes by a grinning Kyle, she wonders if she can tell him.
    She wonders what he would say if she did.
    “You okay?”
    “Sure.”
    “You don’t mind me walking home with you?”
    “It’s not a long walk.”
    “The way you’re walking it is.”
    “Yeah, I guess so.”
    She surveys the sidewalk and the street she is on carefully, yet she doesn’t see anybody she recognizes. No hiding faces or
     parked cars or eyes peering out of the shadows. No trace of James Brennan anywhere.
    Her nerves almost make her forget Kyle is walking right next to her.
    “Laila, what’s gone on the last couple of days?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Some type of cloud moved over you and stayed. Something— I can’t really explain exactly—it just seems like something’s wrong.
     And yet you also don’t mind me being around. It just makes me think—well, that’s crazy.”
    “What’s crazy?”
    “It makes me think you’re—that you’re scared of something.”
    She stops and looks at him without moving or blinking. “I’m not scared of anything.”
    “I know. And that’s what—I believe that, Laila. I don’t know you that well, but I know you well enough to know you’re not
     scared of anything. Remember that jock harassing you when you first started work? That’s what showed me that, man, you better
     watch out for this girl.”
    “He was just some idiotic muscle head. I’ve dealt with my share of them.”
    “You know—you say that, and I believe it. But looking at you—it just doesn’t add up.”
    Laila rolls her eyes and keeps walking.
    “What? What’d I say?”
    “Maybe you should stop looking then.”
    “I didn’t mean anything—Laila, come on. Stop a