Page 164 of Valor

The situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable.

“My name is Oliver.” He offered her a handshake.

“Meghan.” She hesitated for a beat, then accepted the offered hand.

“I can drive you to?—”

She pulled back.

“—wherever you are going.”

“Yeah, thanks, but I will wait for the taxi.”

“Ota may not show up for a few hours, depending on if he has a beer with his lunch.”

“You know him?”

“He is my neighbor.”

Was the man making this up to lure her into his car, or was he trying to help? The prospect of sitting on an uncomfortable plastic seat for hours didn’t appeal to her. This was a small town, a village, in fact, and presumably, everyone knew everyone else. A glance at the small coffee shop gave her an idea.

“Give me a moment, please.” She got up and walked to the kiosk, leaving her luggage behind. If he were interested in stealing that, he would have taken it the first time he had a chance. Or he could be cunning and trying to gain her trust, then drive her off to a dark forest.

“Excuse me.” Meghan smiled at the barista.

“Yes?”

“Do you know that man?”

The teenager leaned over the counter and peered into the lobby. “Yes. He is my history teacher. From my high school.”

Meghan pursed her lips.

“His name is Oliver Skala,” the girl added.

“Thank you.”

Meghan spun on her heel and walked back to Oliver.

“Sorry about that,” she looked up at him. “I just want to make sure I don’t get myself in trouble.”

“I understand.” His eyes lingered a second too long.

Her cheeks grew warm. “If you could give me a lift, I would very much appreciate it.”

He reached for her luggage and effortlessly lifted it off the tiled floor.

“Let’s go then.”

They walked briskly across the parking lot, getting wet. Oliver clicked his key fob, and the trunk popped open.

“Give me your knapsack,” he stretched out his arm, “and get in.”

That sounded like an order.Meghan stole a glimpse of the interior of the trunk. It was empty.Lord, please don’t let him be a serial killer. This is so out of my comfort zone.

Meghan settled into the passenger seat of the white Octavia sedan, worried that her wet jeans would damage the black leather seats. The car smelled of bubble gum, which relaxed her a little. Before Oliver had a chance to get in, she scanned the back row. There was no duct tape, rope, or a rolled-up plastic sheet. So, maybe she would live through this.

Oliver got in and started the car. Jazz music filled the space. He adjusted the vents and turned on the heat, which she was thankful for. This wasn’t her kind of summer. Mom was right. Getting a lawyer and selling the property to pay down her student loan was a reasonable idea.

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