Page 144 of The Five Year Lie

So far, he’s done a first-rate job of keeping his emotions in check and their interactions casual. But he’s desperate to come clean. He wants to hold his little boy and promise never to leave him.

He won’t make that promise, though, until he’s sure he can fulfill it. If he has to trade his freedom—or even his life—for Ariel’s and Buzz’s, he’ll do it. No question.

Downstairs, Woody is ensconced on the sofa in front of their makeshift control center—a laptop and two monitors.

“No bears in the woods?” Jay asks.

“No bears,” Woody confirms. “Although we saw an eight-point buck about an hour ago.” He stands up and removes his gun belt, passing it to Jay. “I’m headed home to sleep for a couple hours. Keep me apprised of your whereabouts.”

“You know it.”

Woody reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. “Call me if you need to strategize. This is a lot.”

“I will. Thanks.”

It is a lot. But it’s the best kind.

Jay takes a look at the monitors and the motion sensor readouts, but they’re quiet. So he crosses to the kitchen, where Ariel is cleaning up from breakfast.

“I already fed Buzz and Woody scrambled eggs and bacon. Your fridge was well stocked,” she says. “Your bacon is in the oven. Want a couple eggs? Fried or scrambled?”

“You cook? I’ve never seen that before.”

“Don’t judge.” She gives him a warning look. “I had an awful little kitchen in that apartment.”

“Scrambled, then. Please.” He comes up behind her while shebreaks two eggs into a bowl. He wraps his arms around her and kisses the back of her neck. Given the choice, he would never let go again.

But Buzz has stopped playing with the dog to watch the two of them.

So he steps back and pours himself a cup of coffee before moving back to watch the monitors on the sofa.

After breakfast—and after a lot of grumbling—Ariel sets up a brand-new email account. Without her phone, she can’t get into the other one.

The first message she sends is to her mother.

Buzz and I are fine, but we felt the need to get out of town for a few days.

After a couple of minutes of thinking, she adds:

I neglected to bring Frog and Toad, so I will probably have to buy another copy.

“She’ll know it’s me,” she says quietly.

“What’s Frog and Toad?” he whispers.

Ariel laughs. “A book. Buzz will train you up, you watch.” Her smile fades as she addresses a fresh email message to Ray.

Hi. I hope you saw the news item that Zain’s death was suspicious. If you know anything about it, you need to come clean right now.

“That’s a zinger,” he says. “Short and sweet.”

“Light on the details. Passive-aggressive. All my favorite things,” she agrees. Then she sends it.

“Look,” he tells her, pointing at the bookmarks on his browser. “Click there.”

When she does, her Instagram comes up on the screen. It’s a colorful display of glass objects she’s made. “I check it daily,” he says, “to see if there’s anything new. Want to know which one is my favorite?”

She turns to him with unguarded surprise.