Page 78

He grins at her, then he floors the gas and turns too sharply, causing Mick to crush into my side. He rights himself, apologizing as Silas reprimands Jake for his careless driving.

“From this point on, drive like you’re a cautious father of two,” he says.

Jake responds with little more than a shrug, but he slows down, and we breeze past the yawning security guard, who lazily waves a hand in acknowledgment. As we exit, Silas opens the laptop, and after a quick glance over his shoulder, I turn to stare out the window.

Mick doesn’t say a word to me, but almost as if taking Silas’s instruction literally, he slides his fingers into mine—and doesn’t let go. Not once during the entire thirty-minute drive into the Everglades.

We leave the city behind, skyscrapers giving way to flat stretches of scrubland and sun-bleached asphalt as we head west. The road narrows, hemmed in by dense greenery that grows thicker and taller with every passing mile. Before long, we’re swallowed whole, surrounded by tangled sawgrass, still black water, and towering cypress trees draped in ghostly Spanish moss.

If there’s one place I’ve never wanted to spend much time in, it’s here. Swampy. Wild. Unforgiving. A place where the air itself feels alive—heavy, wet, and pulsing with heat. The kind of humidity that seeps into your bones. Alligators lurk just beneath the surface. Snakes vanish into the brush without a sound. And the silence? It pulses with the creeping sense that out here, no one would hear you scream.

I shift in my seat, tugging my hand just slightly to test his grip. He holds on tighter. I don’t say anything, and neither does he.

I glance at the endless stretch of murky water beyond the guardrail and swallow hard.

Wherever we’re headed, I really hope they have air conditioning.

Mick draws my attention away from the view outside by removing his hand. When he subtly flexes his fingers and swipes his palm on his thigh, it’s apparent I was squeezing too hard. With a smile, he slides his arm along the back of the seat, as though proving he’s serious about protecting me. A lump settles in my throat and doesn’t ease up when Jake drives us down a street running parallel to wetlands.

All heads swivel to look at the woods, and Jake slows to a crawl while Silas shuts his laptop down. “Okay, we’re on,” he says.

He turns to look at Mick. “Once we get inside the house, we’ll look for a place to plant a directional microphone. At this distance we should be able to pick up conversations. We’ll need to position it near a load-bearing wall for best resonance capture.”

Adena raises her hand. “That’s where I come in. The mic will be under the twins."

I glance at the stroller and the two infant seats complete with eerily realistic plastic babies strapped into them.

Mick looks equally impressed and relieved.

“Glad to see you came prepared."

With a smile, Silas reaches over and hits two buttons on the laptop. Instantly the babies start crying, and Jake and Adena climb out and immediately start bickering, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.

To add to the authenticity, Jake grabs the babies out of the back of the minivan.

“Just great. You woke the twins."

“I didn’t wake them, your lousy driving woke them,” Adena says.

Jake hands her the baby carriers and gestures to the house.

“Take them inside. I’m putting the van in the garage."

With a sneer, she turns on her heel and stomps to the door.

“This better be nicer than the last dump you rented us."

Jake pulls a face at us as he slides the door closed.

“It’s not. It’s way worse than the two-bedroom in Dallas where we pulled this last."

The van door slides shut, and seconds later we’re pulling into the garage.

As soon as the garage door lowers behind us, Silas steps out and gives Jake a nod.

“Nice job."

The internal access door opens, and Adena appears. The babies’ cries are still audible from somewhere in the house, adding to the authenticity.