Page 47

Forty-six

FINDING THE SPARE KEY inside the hanging plant where Amy always left it, Kelly pulled it out, looked around one last time, and opened the door.

The alarm beeped, and she shut it off, closed the door behind her, then turned the alarm back on. Jared knew the code. Anyone else coming in the house would not, and the alarm would signal help before Brent could kill her. Or so she hoped. She’d lost him in the Uber, but she doubted it was for long. Lance Winslow’s reach was illegal and extensive. But she was seeing this to the end. Claire deserved it. Claire’s family deserved it. And Lance deserved to go down. Not only for Claire but for Kathryn Buford, who he’d no doubt killed and buried in that shallow grave. Why else would he have her locket?

Money was not enough for him to lose. His life was due, whether it was in the death penalty or life behind bars. He deserved no mercy and no freedom. Jared disagreed, but she had to do what was right.

They’d left the safe’s contents in a locker. It would be leverage if Brent caught up with them. She just prayed Jared made it away safely. Prayed. She exhaled. She still prayed. She’d done something unlawful, but to right an awful wrong. Surely God would understand that, so then why did “It is mine to avenge ; I will repay” keep whispering through her soul? She didn’t doubt He could avenge, but He hadn’t, so she and Jared had taken matters into their own hands.

Moving through the silent house—save for a creaky floorboard here and there—she left the lights off. It needed to appear empty since Gus and Amy were still in Sicily.

Stepping into the kitchen, she chugged a glass of water, anxious for Jared to arrive. He would arrive, right?

She took a deep breath—the kind Jared made her take when she freaked out—then counting to seven, she released it nice and slow.

Shaking off the fear that would eat her alive if she let it, she continued moving through the house, a small flashlight in hand. She needed some light. She kept it directed at the ground and away from the windows. The closest neighbors were acres away, but she took the precautions all the same.

An hour passed and still no Jared. Acid burned up her throat. What if something happened to him? What if...? No. She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t allow her thoughts to go there.

She returned to the kitchen—the farthest room from the front of the house—and closed the blinds. Enough of the moon slipped through the narrow slots between each blind that she didn’t need the flashlight any longer. Not once her eyes adjusted, and thanks to the small night-light near the pantry.

Glancing at the butcher-block holder and the silver knives arranged evenly in it, she pulled the biggest one out and clung to it. She curled her fingers around the handle.

She’d ditched her phone as Jared instructed, both fearing Lance was somehow pinging them. Come their stop in Vegas, she needed to grab a burner cell. There hadn’t been time before fleeing Flagstaff.

The door opened, and the alarm went off. She tightened her grip on the knife handle, the silver cold against her moist palm. The alarm beeped. Please shut off. Please be Jared. Her heart thudding in her chest, she strode as silently as possible for the kitchen door, flattening her back against the wall beside it. The alarm shut off. Thank you , Lord.

“Jared?” she called, not budging.

“Kelly.” He raced through the door, nearly running into the point of the knife as she stepped forward.

“Whoa!” He fumbled back. “It’s me.” He tripped over his feet and fell backward onto the ground, bracing himself on his bent-back hands. He looked rather like a crab playing Twister.

She dropped the knife on the counter and helped him up, wrapping her arms around him. “I was so scared something happened to you.”

“I had to lose the tail.”

“You mean he followed you here?”

“No. He picked me up about forty miles out, but I lost him about twenty miles back.”

“It won’t take him, or more likely Lance, long to figure out where we are, with all the illegal resources he has.”

“Which is why we need to keep our contingency plan in place.”

****

No lights shone from the house as Greyson and Riley pulled into the already crowded driveway. Three other cars sat parked in it—Kelly’s rental car, a dark sedan, and a black SUV.

Kelly, Jared, and Brent, Riley was betting.

“I hope we’re not too late,” she said, leaping from the door the second he shifted into Park.

Greyson jumped out, and they headed for the dark house. Dawn was just breaking, but shadows still covered the land.

It took them a solid five to clear the large house, but it was empty. A small waterproof duffel sat halfway zipped on the table.

“They must have left in a hurry. The rapids are dangerous enough in the day. I doubt they’d have taken to them before sunrise without Brent chasing them. We better hurry.”

They passed the three cars out front and hurried down the hill. “There’s a kayak rack,” Riley said. Five slots, two kayaks. One tandem. One single.

“We’re going to need dry suits, or we’ll catch hypothermia,” Grey said, looking to the open doors of the shed. “Maybe in there?”

“That would be my guess.”

Ten minutes later, in dry suits that mostly fit, they had started climbing into the tandem kayak when a small black bag caught Riley’s eye by the back corner of the shed. “Hey.” She pointed.

“Grab it,” Grey said, hanging on to the kayak.

She tossed it inside and helped him push off, climbing into the rear seat.

The sun inched above the horizon as a class IV rapid swirled them sideways. They paddled with it and broke free as it crashed down with white water splashing over the sides. Thank goodness for the dry suits. It was cold enough with them. They’d have frozen without them.

Wind gusts rifled Riley’s hair as they rode the rapids. A quarter of a mile downriver and still no sign of them. She tightened her grip on the paddle. How far behind were they?