“It’s not the Waldorf.” Clint swerves around a fallen branch as the road grows dodgier. “But it’s off the grid and will give us some time to figure out our next steps.”
“Maybe we should just go to the police.” I watch the trees rush by my window.
“I agree, maybe we should,” Clint mutters.
I suck in my lips. The police can protect us, but they also won’t give us time to figure this out. How deep is the setup against me? Pretty sure it’s well beyond me losing my job if the SEC wants me to come in. A federal indictment could follow.
None of that matters if my family is in danger.
“The cabin will give us time. I think we should take it.” Clint squeezes my thigh.
I put my hand on top of his. “Making a call.”
I grab Clint’s phone, enter the number from the card, and get Officer Komoroski’s voicemail. “Hi. This is Meredith Hansel. Clint,our two kids, and I are headed to a friend’s cabin. I’ll text you the address. We’ll be in touch soon.”
“You didn’t tell them about Candy.” Clint’s hand turns up and I lay my palm in his.
“Who’s Candy?” Reid’s voice sounds excited again, like this is all an interesting puzzle to solve.
“I didn’t get through all the details,” Erika says. “And scoot over. Stop jumping on me. You stink. Did you shower?”
“They didn’t make us,” he says with so much joy I almost laugh. Almost. Because it wasn’t clear from the description if the cabin has a shower.
“Well, let’s get you cleaned up first thing when we get to the cabin,” I say hopefully.
Reid grumbles back at his sister.
I ignore the back seat and speak to Clint. “How do I summarize all the ways I’ve been set up at work? I don’t even get it yet. I think as long as Komoroski knows where we are...” Not sure how to finish the thought. As long as he knows where we are, he can have someone pick us up and arrest us. Or he can more easily pull together the crime scene if something happens to us? I look in the side mirror for any dark SUVs.
“We’re only a few minutes away.” Clint holds on tight. “We’ll be fine.”
48
THE TIRES BUMP AND CHAFEalong the deep grooves of another dirt road. The sedan feels lower to the ground than before we made that last left. I grit my teeth as I anticipate gouging our undercarriage. Ella’s undercarriage. We keep going deeper into an old-growth pine wood.
Finally, nestled among dozens of tall trunks with what look like Christmas trees sprouting out their tops, we pull up to an old cabin.
Like many, many decades old.
A knot of apprehension tightens in my stomach. Dark, uneven siding is frosted with green moss, and the roof over the porch, running the length of the low-slung building, looks ready to crumble. I glance back at Clint, but he’s already stepped out. I open the door and take a deep breath of earthy crispness. It’s cooler here. I stare down the long drive. A tiny wave of relief like a stray breeze washes over me. No one has followed. Yet.
With cautious steps, I approach the weather-beaten porchplanking. I want to cry out to the kids to be careful where they’re walking, but the wood is surprisingly firm under my feet.
“Isn’t it cool, Mom?” Reid twirls around. “It was built like a hundred years ago.”
“Sixty.” Clint grabs the bags from the trunk.
“I’m going to check on the raccoons.” Reid disappears around the side of the cabin.
Clint and I both call after him, but Erika says she’ll stay with him.
From a small zippered pocket of his day pack, Clint fishes out a ring of keys.
He has keys to Rob’s place. I swallow my hurt.
Clint unlocks and pushes open the larger-than-normal hardwood door. “We’ve got some shingles and siding to replace, but the bones are solid.”
Leaving the crisp forest aroma of pine, the cedar scent of new wood fills the air. My breath catches in my throat. Gentle shadows are crossed by shards of sunlight that dance across a wide-planked floor, partially covered by a round woven rug. Its fibers are a symphony of earthy tones and a subtle leafy pattern. A stone fireplace stands proudly against one wall. Beside it, a collection of weathered logs anticipates a flame. A cozy nook is nestled in the corner, beckoning with its bookshelf of novels and other books.
