Page 15

The woman, Gwen, gets out and hurries around. They’re older than me, maybe in their forties, but she’s got kind eyes as does her husband, and when she carefully tells me she’s going to help me, that she’s going to touch me, something crumbles inside.

“We’re just going to help,” she says, repeating herself. “And I’m going to help you. I’m going to slide an arm around your waist and help you to the car.” Her gaze drops. “Your feet are bare, hon. And you look like you’re going to fall over. So you can just sit, door open, and we’ll call the cops.”

“No.” That threat snaps me out of my fear-soaked gaze and sets the adrenaline pumping. “No police.”

“Something’s clearly happened,” Gwen says. “We’ll wait with you?—”

“No.” I stop, forcing myself to breathe normally, and I try again. “I can’t risk the police. I-I have a son, and if they go after his father, then…” I swallow and grip her arm. “He’s rich and he’ll take him. Please… I just need this to go away. I need to get home to my boy and my friend.”

I’m hoping she can read between the lines. See what I’m trying to say.

“He doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“I still think we should?—”

“I can’t risk it. It’s complicated, but if he finds out about my boy, because the police turn up, then…” I suck in air. “He didn’t hurt me. But he could, if…”

If.

If goes wildly in all directions, and I can see some of those places on her face as she mulls my words. “Where do you live?”

I give her my address .

“We’ll take you home, okay?”

“Thank you.”

And I get in the car.

Kara’s hug on the driveway is enough to send George and Gwen off after Kara showers them with words of thanks.

But now we’re inside, and I’ve just told her what happened.

She goes to my cupboard above the stove and pulls out a bottle of sherry I bought once when I made a fancy dish for a potluck once. She pours herself a drink and waves the bottle at me. I shake my head.

“When my phone started to explode with news flashes, and I couldn’t get hold of you, I lost my fucking mind.” She sets down the bottle and glass. “And Max…”

I sniff and nod. “I can’t think about that or I’ll lose it.”

But the shock on her face is deeper than that. “This man, Demyan, he sounds… horrible. And you—” Kara shakes her head. “What are you going to do, Erin? He’s got to be organized crime. All those guns, that mansion. Shit. And you ran…”

“I’m going to get the hell out of here before he knows I’m gone and before he figures out, he’s Sasha’s father.”

“You told him?” Her eyes almost bug out.

“No, but a man like that will find out. It’s just a matter of time.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make sure I have some time. If anyone asks about me…” I flash her a look as I go to my room and grab a wheelie bag and start to pack.

“I’ll say who?”

Kara digs out a backpack. She throws things into it for Sasha, his baby goat toy and bear, his favorite books, and she leaves that by the door to his room as she heads back to the kitchen.

I throw jeans, shirts, shoes, and tops into the bag, along with toiletries.

Some jewelry I could sell if I have to. Then I need to get all of Sasha’s stuff.

I inventory it in my head because I’ll get that last. Thank fuck he and Kara clearly played in the living room, and since his toys were there, he must have passed out.

I change into jeans, sneakers, and a sweater, and panic hits.

“Where’s your purse?” she asks, running up with his favorite box mac and cheese he only gets on occasion.

“At the wedding venue.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ve got emergency cards.” I wheel the bag into the hall. “They’re in my room, bottom dresser drawer.” I run to get them and shove them in my pocket, then I slide into Sasha’s room, his night-light showing his chubby little face, the perfect little mouth. And my heart breaks.

But I don’t have time for broken things.

I raid his closet and drawers, packing what I need. I sling the pack over my shoulder when something horrific hits me.

“Kara?” I rush out to her. “My car, it’s?—”

“Take mine. The gas tank’s full. And it’s got the car seat for Sasha.”

I never thought I’d be so grateful for her snobbishness with cars when we go out. She insisted on getting the special seat for outings with Sasha. Besides, if she ever babysat him, she wanted to be able to hit the road if they needed to go on a snack run.

“Thank you.” I take the keys and hug her, wanting to cry.

“Stop that. Get him. I’ll put the bags in. Hurry.”

I tuck his quilt and blanket around him and scoop him up with his pillow. I hold him close, and bless his little heart, he doesn’t stir.

Outside, I load him into his seat, clipping him into it.

“I can come too,” Kara says, but I shake my head.

“No. I’m not putting you in danger. I’ve got the cards?—”

“No way, Erin. You’re not using them.” Kara opens her bag and hands me a large wad of cash and one of those ghetto preloaded cards from money-wiring places. “That’s your emergency card. There’s no name attached.”

“Why…”

She shrugs. “In case I don’t want someone to know who I am. Hey, I can be mysterious.” But she pushes it all into my hands. “Take it, use it as emergency funds. There’s a few thousand on there. And don’t use your cards. Get a burner phone and call me the minute you can.”

“I have money?—”

“Babe, I’ve seen Law and Order . If this Demyan’s as dangerous as you think, as Tom thinks—he told you not to try and find him, right? If he is, then he can track you by your bank cards. In no time. So be smart. Cash, low-rent places.”

The tears fall and I hug her tight. “Kara, thank you! I don’t know how to repay you…”

“Nonsense. You’d do the same for me. Now go and call me when it’s safe to do so. I wrote my number down for you.”

I almost laugh. In this day and age, I barely know my own number. “I love you, Kara.”

“And I love you. Stay under the speed limit. Now go.”

I nod, and clutching the keys, I get in the car. With one last look, I drive off.

An hour later, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

I honestly don’t know where I’m headed, apart from anywhere a long way from here.

I’ll go to California, New York. Hell, I’ll go to Wyoming if I have to.

I have my passport, but I’m not that stupid to try and use it.

Besides, I don’t have one for Sasha yet.

Sasha’s sleeping soundly and when I find myself drifting, I know I have to find a place for the night. It’s two in the morning according to the dashboard clock, and I keep my eyes open for a motel.

There are some, but I don’t stop at the fancier ones, or the seediest. Both of those will draw attention.

Then I see one. It’s old, but there are cars, and some of them look like family cars, so I pull in and go to reception.

The bored guy there recites the prices for a night.

And when I pay cash and book it under a fake name, he asks for ID.

“My purse is down at the bottom of my bag; it’s just me and my daughter.” The last-minute lie trips a little.

But he just nods, takes the money, and hands me the key. “If you stay another night, I’ll need the ID. Protocol.”

I leave and find the room. It’s at the end of the row in the back of the motel which suits me. And I leave most of our stuff, just carry a sleeping Sasha in.

I tuck him in and lock all the doors and windows and then, still dressed, climb on the bed with Sasha and hold him like I never want to let go.