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He was awakened by the playful screams of children in the parking lot outside his room. He grabbed his watch from the nightstand. It was nearly noon. He’d slept for nine hours and felt drugged. He could easily fall back asleep for the rest of the day, but he needed to keep moving.

He found the burner phone he’d last used and hit the Redial button to call Sarah.

After five rings, the phone was answered. Sarah said, “Grant? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry to wake you. Are you at Tilda’s?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

He didn’t want to say anything over the phone.

“I’m in a motel room. Listen, Sarah, you need to get rid of your iPhone, okay?”

“Grant, what the fuck is going on? You got Alec Wood killed .” Her voice was strained.

“What—what do you know?”

She must be going crazy , Paul thought, and it’s all my fault.

“There was a front-page article in the Derryfield Courier this morning. It said that Alec was killed in front of your house, Paul! It said you’re a person of interest.”

He tried to calm her as best he could over the phone, tried to assuage her panic, but she was distraught.

“Sarah—Sarah, listen ! I’m sorry to raise my voice, honey, but I don’t have a lot of time, and I need you to pay attention here, okay?”

She seemed to catch her breath after a moment, saying, “Okay, okay, okay,” and then he spoke again.

“I have to hang up now—but please know that I’m doing okay, I’m safe, and I’ve got a plan. We’re going to get through this, both of us. But these are bad guys, Sarah, I’m telling you. So I need you to be really careful. Don’t talk to anyone with a Russian accent. And don’t tell anyone I called. It’s important.”