I lean back in the chair and press my palms against my eyes. The safe house is quiet even though Feodor is here watching over me.Rafe says it's because I may need things, and while that's sweet I also think he doesn't quite trust me not to run yet. He left hours ago to meet with his uncle and I've been working ever since, trying to finish what he asked me to do before he gets back.
But I need a break. I push the laptop off my lap and set it to the side. My brain hurts from all the numbers and concentrating, and I just want to do something else now.
Guilt gnaws at me too, not just guilt over the fact that I'm covering up Rafe and Sal's dirty deeds, but guilt that it's not done yet. I feel like if it were done Rafe would've found a way for me to get home. Just a week until Christmas and my family probably thinks I'm dead. And Rafe's so close to being buried alive that if I quit or take a break for even a short time, I feel like everything he has will fall apart.
It's too much for one person to carry alone.
I walk to the window and stare out at the snow falling and dancing on the breeze. It's a beautiful sight, one that I'd have loved to enjoy with my sister in Buffalo where I belong. They’re probably finishing making centerpieces for her wedding today—if the wedding is still on at all. Would Lila go forward with the ceremony if I don't show up in time for Christmas? I don't even know.
Do they think I'm dead? Do they think someone took me and I'm being hurt somewhere? Do they lie awake at night wondering if I'm scared or in pain or calling out for them?
My throat constricts in a sob, and I wrap my arms around myself. I miss them so much it feels physical, a hollowness inside my ribcage that nothing can fill. I miss my mom's voice. My dad's stupid jokes. And Lila would be nothing but incessantchatter about dresses and roses and decorations… A tear pricks my eyes and I blink it back.
I turn away from the window and walk back toward the bed, but I can't make myself sit down. The laptop is still open, the files waiting for me to finish what I started, but I can't look at them right now. I can't keep doing this.
I need air.
I need space.
I need to think.
I walk out into the hallway and head toward the living room. Feodor's supposed to be stationed near the front door, but when I round the corner, the room's empty. I stop and look around, listening for movement, but the safehouse is silent.
He hasn't moved from the chair at the kitchen table near the front door since this morning. Every time I break for coffee or to use the toilet, he's been there reading something on his phone or sipping his own drink. My eyes search for where he could've gone, but even through the windows on the side of the house, I see nothing.
Turning, I see the backdoor standing open and wonder if he's gone out back to have a smoke. I move that direction already feeling the cold chill on my skin from the air creeping inside. I don't smell smoke on the breeze, though, and when I pass by the island on my way down the hall, I see a set of keys sits on the table near the door.
Car keys.
I recognize the key fob from the one usually dangling from Feodor's hip. He's left his key lying, the back door open, and heis otherwise occupied. A more perfect setup could not be laid out for me.
I step closer to the door and peek outside. Feodor's standing at the edge of the deck with his back to me, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. Smoke curls up into the cold air before it's carried away, and he's staring out at the yard, completely oblivious to the fact that he left his key lying.
My breath catches.
I could leave right now. I could grab those keys, walk out the front door, and drive away before he even realizes I'm gone. I still have the thumb drive hidden in my bag, and I could take it to the FBI. It wouldn't be pretty and I know I'd have a lot of explaining to do, but the ache in my chest to see my family is so real, I know I'd push through it.
I could do this…
My hand moves toward the keys before I consciously decide to reach for them. My fingers close around the cold metal and it feels like freedom.
My heart starts pounding as I'm already rehearsing what I'd say. I'd tell them men from the Ferretti organization forced me to work for them, put a gun to my head and threatened my family. I'd leave Rafe's name out of it, of course, and if I turn state's evidence I'd have a shot at getting off without charges.
My hands race, searching my bag for the thumb drive, and the keys jingle the whole time. I try to be quiet, but my body is trembling now with nervous energy. I'm really doing this? Leaving Rafe behind to face whatever consequences may come when Sal finds out… But he didn't think of me when he stole me from the street and thought of my family. Did he?
I turn and walk toward the front door, and now I'm feeling bolder. I keep telling myself, home is just a few hours away. I don’t even know where I am but that fancy car has GPS, I guarantee it. And it may have that fancy feature where you call for help while driving. If that's the case, I can just tell the cops to track the car and come find me.
I open the front door and step outside into the cold. Snow crunches under my feet as I walk toward the car, and my breath comes out in white puffs that dissolve into the air. This is happening. I'm going home. I don't have to be afraid anymore or worry about Sal or what will happen to Rafe. I don't have to stay up all night working on files and…
I'm ten feet from the car when I stop.
My hand tightens around the keys, and I stand there in the cold, staring at the vehicle that could take me home.
I think about my mom opening the door and seeing me standing there. I think about my dad pulling me into a hug and not letting go. I think about my sister crying and asking me where I've been and telling me she thought I was dead.
I think about walking into our house and smelling the pine from the Christmas tree and hearing carols playing on the radio and feeling safe again.
But then I think about Rafe.
