Chapter 6
Michael didn’t run.
He didn’t cross the street.
He didn’t do anything that might confirm what Daniel already suspected.
Instead, he pulled out his phone, pretended to take a call, and turned in the opposite direction. He walked three blocks, ducked into the entrance of an all-night laundromat, and watched through the smudged glass.
The SUV didn’t follow.
Daniel was playing it smart.
He didn’t need to follow. He already knew where Michael lived.
Michael waited fifteen minutes. Took a circuitous route home. Cut through alleys. Doubled back twice. By the time he let himself into the brownstone, it was nearly midnight.
The house was dark.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
“Sarah?” he called, locking and chaining the door behind him.
No answer.
His heart lurched.
He moved through the house, turning on lights as he went. Kitchen empty. Living room empty. Dining room empty.
He ran up the stairs two at a time.
Ethan’s door was open. His son was asleep in his bed, clutching his favorite stuffed dinosaur, breathing deeply.
Relief flooded Michael.
Then he heard it.
A soft sound from the master bedroom.
Crying.
Michael pushed the door open.
Sarah was sitting on the floor in the corner, her back pressed against the wall, her knees pulled to her chest. She was rocking back and forth, sobbing into her hands.
“Sarah,” Michael said, rushing to her. “What happened? Did someone come? Did you hear something?”
She shook her head. Couldn’t speak.
Michael sat beside her. Pulled her into his arms. Held her while she cried. Minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. At last, her sobs softened into hiccups.
“I had a dream,” she whispered. “Or a memory. I don’t know anymore. I was back on the street. It was winter. So cold. And I saw Ethan. He was walking with Daniel. He looked right at me. And he didn’t recognize me. He just... walked past. Like I was trash.”
Michael held her tighter.
“I’m here,” he said. “We’re both here. Ethan’s asleep down the hall. He knows who you are. He loves you.”
Sarah pulled back. Her eyes were red. Swollen.
“Did you meet the reporter?”
Michael nodded. Told her everything. Elena Marquez. The list of names. The offer. The twenty-four-hour deadline.
And Daniel.
Waiting for him outside the diner.
Sarah went pale.
“He saw you.”
“Maybe,” Michael said. “Maybe not. But either way, we’re out of time. We can’t wait twenty-four hours. We need to move. Now.”
“Move where?”
“Somewhere Daniel won’t think to look. Somewhere off the grid for a few days. Just until we get the evidence to Elena and she goes to the feds.”
Michael stood. Pulled her up with him.
“Pack only what you need. Warm clothes. Cash. Ethan’s medicine. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
“Where are we going?” Sarah asked again.
Michael looked at her.
“The cabin,” he said. “Upstate. The one Rachel was supposed to go to. Daniel’s never been there. I bought it with my own money, before we started the firm. It’s not on any of the company books. No one knows about it but us.”
Sarah’s breath caught.
“Rachel was supposed to be safe there.”
“She would have been,” Michael said. “If she’d made it.”
Ten minutes later, they were in the car. Ethan, woken from a deep sleep, was curled up in the backseat wrapped in a blanket, already dozing off again. Sarah sat beside Michael, her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window at the dark streets of Brooklyn.
Michael drove north.
Out of the city.
Onto the highway.
The further they got from Manhattan, the more the tension in his shoulders released. By the time they hit the two-lane road that wound through the mountains, the sky was starting to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
The cabin was another forty minutes away.
Set back from the road, down a rutted dirt driveway, surrounded by pine trees and nothing else. No neighbors. No cell service for three miles. Just the lake and the woods and silence.
Michael pulled up in front of the small wooden structure. Killed the engine.
“Home sweet home,” he said quietly.
They carried Ethan inside. Put him to bed in the small guest room. Then Michael started a fire in the fireplace while Sarah unpacked what little they’d brought.
For a few hours, it was almost peaceful.
Ethan woke up at noon, thrilled by the snow on the ground and the lake frozen over. Michael taught him how to skip stones on the thin ice while Sarah made soup on the old wood stove.
By late afternoon, Michael was starting to think they’d actually done it. That they’d escaped. That for a few days at least, they could breathe.
He was wrong.
He was chopping wood behind the cabin when he heard it.
A car.
Coming down the driveway.
Too big to be a local’s pickup.
Too quiet.
Michael dropped the axe. Ran around to the front of the cabin.
A black Suburban was pulling to a stop.
The same one from outside his house.
The same one from outside the diner.
The driver’s door opened.
Daniel got out.
He wasn’t alone.
A second man got out of the passenger side. Big. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a black puffer coat and gloves. His face was blank.
Professional.
Michael ran back inside. Slid the deadbolt home. Pushed the heavy oak table in front of the door.
“Sarah!” he hissed. “Get Ethan. Now. Back bedroom. Lock the door.”
Sarah’s face went white. She didn’t ask questions. She ran down the hall, grabbed Ethan from where he was coloring on the floor, and disappeared into the bedroom. Michael heard the lock click.
He grabbed the old hunting rifle from above the fireplace. His father’s. He hadn’t fired it in twenty years. He checked the chamber. Loaded.
The front door rattled.
“Mike?” Daniel called from outside. His voice was calm. Reasonable. “I know you’re in there. We need to talk. Just open up. No one has to get hurt.”
Michael said nothing.
He backed away from the door. Toward the kitchen. Toward the back door.
“Mike, come on,” Daniel said. “I saw your car at the rest stop on the highway. Knew exactly where you were heading. This place was always your escape plan, wasn’t it? Never told me about it. Smart. But not smart enough.”
Silence.
Then Daniel spoke again.
“Look, I know Sarah’s with you. Okay? I’ve known since Saturday. A nurse at the hospital owes me a favor. Told me everything. A Jane Doe matching Sarah’s description, brought in by you and your son. Called ‘my little moon.’ Cute.”
Michael’s blood turned to fire.
“All I want is the drive, Mike,” Daniel said. “That’s it. You give me what Rachel stole, and we walk away. You, Sarah, the kid—you go back to your lives. I’ll even make it worth your while. Five million dollars. In an account in the Caymans. No taxes. No questions. You can move to Canada. Europe. Anywhere you want. Start over.”
Silence again.
“Or...” Daniel’s voice changed. Hardened. “I send Carlos in there. And he doesn’t ask nicely. He’s very good at what he does, Mike. And he doesn’t like kids much. So you do the math. Open the door, give me the drive, and everyone walks away happy. Or don’t. And I leave here with the drive anyway, and three more bodies get added to the list. Your choice.”
Michael looked at the rifle in his hands.
One shot.
Maybe two.
Daniel and the man called Carlos.
But what if he missed?
What if they got past him?
What if they hurt Ethan?
Sarah.
He couldn’t lose them again.
The bedroom door opened behind him.
Sarah walked out.
She was holding the locket.
The flash drive was in her hand.
“Sarah, no,” Michael said.
She walked past him. Toward the front door.
“Sarah!”
She slid the table out of the way. Undid the deadbolt.
Pulled the door open.
Daniel stood there. His eyes widened when he saw her. For just a second, genuine shock crossed his face. Three years of planning, and he’d never actually expected to look into her eyes again.
“Hello, Daniel,” Sarah said. Her voice was steady. Stronger than Michael had ever heard it. “You want the drive? Come and get it.”
She held it up between her thumb and forefinger.
Then she turned and ran.
Not back to Michael.
Not to the bedroom.
May you like
Out the back door.
Into the woods.
