So what should she do? What could she do? Let Operation Inside run its course? Allow Virgil to continue risking his life? Or bring it all to a stop—and leave Crescent City without a job?
She wished the warden would play the heavy, take the decision out of her hands. He had more power than she did. But there wasn’t any chance of that. Fischer had decided to support the CDCR and was doing it with his eyes closed.
“Here we go,” she muttered as she climbed the stairs to her deck.
Rick was pacing in her living room. He was on the phone, in the middle of a heated argument, and barely turned to look at her when she came in.
Other than giving him a short wave, she ignored him, too, and went into the kitchen, where she dumped her belongings on the counter before opening the freezer. What was she going to have for dinner? She wished she’d gone out. If she’d known her company hadn’t left, she would have, if only to delay her return.
“You stupid bitch!” Rick yelled. “You can’t leave California! Don’t you dare! I’ll fight you every step of the way! Those are my kids, too.”
Flinching at his language and his anger, Peyton rolled her eyes. She shouldn’t have to put up with this. What was it he’d said about his divorce being less acrimonious than his parents’? That didn’t seem likely. And, lucky her, she got to hear this latest battle….
Unable to tolerate it, she shut the freezer and snatched up her purse. Rick didn’t even notice when she left. He had only one thing on his mind—verbally destroying his soon-to-be ex-wife.
Head down, she hurried to her car and peeled out of the drive. She told herself she was going to Michelle’s. She needed a break, a chance to think about something else. But she didn’t actually go to her friend’s. She went into town to purchase a veggie burger. Then she turned around and drove right past Michelle’s house—and all the way to the prison.
The sound that woke Laurel in the middle of the night wasn’t very loud. Just a creak, really. And yet…it roused her from a deep sleep.
It’s the marshal. Every night when she retired, Jimmy Keegan, the U.S. marshal who’d been staying with her since Rick Wallace left, called his wife, watched another hour of TV, then retired. They’d only been together for three days, but they’d already established this routine. Probably because there wasn’t much else to do. It wasn’t as if they could go anywhere. Although Keegan slipped out occasionally for very brief periods, to buy them a treat or some more milk, he wouldn’t even let the kids play in the yard because it was too risky. He was that strict.
Laurel didn’t mind. She felt safe for the first time in a long while. Vigilant as he was, she couldn’t imagine anyone getting past him, so she disregarded whatever had disturbed her and allowed her eyes to drift shut.
Shuffling, coming from the direction of the laundry room, made her eyes snap open again. What was going on?
A sliver of moonlight filtered through the blinds, falling over her son, who was sleeping on the twin bed against the wall. Mia curled against her in the double bed. Her daughter’s warmth was reassuring. Both Jake and Mia were fine. But something was wrong….
What time was it?
Late.
Careful to move very slowly so she wouldn’t wake Mia, she reached over to the nightstand to get her cell phone. The rental house in which they were staying had been furnished when they arrived, but very sparsely. No clocks or pictures hung on the walls. Only the furniture had been provided—the kitchenette set, the sofa, recliner and TV in the living room, the beds, dressers and nightstands in the bedrooms.
Sure enough, it was 2:30 a.m. Late, as she’d thought.
Creak…
She caught her breath. That had to be Jimmy, didn’t it?
Of course. If The Crew had followed her and Rick Wallace that first night, they would’ve struck before now. They had no reason to wait. But the noises she’d heard were all wrong. There wasn’t just one person moving around. There were two.
She broke into a cold sweat. Jimmy would never invite someone in during the night, especially without telling her. He wasn’t even from this area. Like her, he didn’t know a single soul.
Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen as she held her breath again and listened. What was that? It sounded like whispering….
Adrenaline hit her, making it hard to get up, but she managed to climb out of bed, creep across the room and open the door slightly so she could peer out. It was too dark to see anything. But she heard a man cursing about getting blood all over him. Then her legs nearly turned to rubber.
Blood? Whose blood? But in her heart she knew. She wasn’t sure what had happened to the marshal, but she was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to help her.
If he was dead, or even incapacitated, she had mere seconds. Did she spend those seconds trying to call the police? Or did she get her children out of the house?
Ultimately, she had no choice. She had to go for the children. They’d have a much better chance of survival if she attended to them immediately. And they were what she cared about most.
Wishing she had the marshal’s gun or some other weapon to defend herself, she closed the door and locked it as quietly as possible. Then she woke Jake with a warning not to say a word. But of course, he did. He was too sleepy and confused to understand, let alone obey.
“What’s the matter, Mommy?”
At least he’d followed her lead and whispered. “Don’t talk,” she breathed in his ear. “There are strangers in the house and they might be dangerous. Just do exactly as I say. I’m going to help you through the window. Run next door and ring the bell until someone answers. Tell them to call the police. Then stay there until I come for you.”
Worry pinched his small face. “What about Mia?”
Mia was beginning to stir.
“She’s going with you. Hold her hand the whole way and keep her safe. But you first.”
He got up as bravely as any man and put on his shoes and coat without her having to ask.
Footsteps came down the hall as she cranked open the window. Then the doorknob turned. Click, click…click, click.
Oh, God…
A man’s voice carried to their ears, even though he was talking to someone else. “I don’t give a rat’s ass. Kick it in.”
Fortunately, the screen gave her no trouble. It was warped, barely hanging on to begin with. She shoved it out, but the old pane would swing open only so far. Would Jake fit through?
“Come on,” she whispered.