April climbed back too, wrapping both of them in her arms while Pete whined softly and licked Kevin's hand.
They sat there in Shane's truck in a random parking lot, holding each other while the world tried its best to break them apart.
Shane didn't take chances.
Within two hours of Vince's appearance at Riversong, April and Kevin were in one of the Watchdog safehouses—the former Sanders property on Watchdog's sprawling foothill compound east of Lyons. Walter Sanders had been Arden's neighbor, Ellie's uncle, who'd passed away after a long battle with dementia. Bear had fixed up the house beautifully—new security system, reinforced doors and windows, but keeping the warm touches that made it a home rather than a bunker.
April hated it anyway.
Not the house itself—it was lovely, actually. Comfortable furniture, a well-stocked kitchen, windows that looked out over acres of protected land. Kevin could run around outside, play with Benny who they'd brought to the safehouse to keep his spirits up.
But it still felt like prison. Like hiding. Like Vince was winning just by making them afraid.
"It's temporary," Shane kept saying. "Just until we find him."
But they couldn't find him.
Vince Romano had vanished like smoke. No credit card transactions. No hotel bookings. The silver rental car turned up abandoned in a grocery store parking lot in Longmont—wiped clean, no prints, no evidence. Traffic cameras showed him ditching it and walking away, but after that? Nothing.
Watchdog dug into his life with the kind of thoroughness that would have been illegal if they were law enforcement. Flint worked his contacts at every federal agency that owed him favors, calling in markers he'd been saving for years.
The results were beyond frustrating.
"I don't understand it," Flint admitted three days in. Sitting in the safehouse living room, he looked exhausted, bags under his eyes, his usual confidence replaced by something that looked almost like shame. "No paper trail. No digital footprint. It's like he knows exactly how to stay invisible."
"He's had help," Shane said. "Professional help."
"Has to be. The restaurant in Vegas is clean—just a normal kitchen job. No big deposits in his account. We still can't find him on any commercial flights, and now with the rental car abandoned..." Flint rubbed his face. "I'm sorry, Shane. I should have caught this earlier. Should have seen he was here."
"You were monitoring him and he’d kept to his routine. He checked in with his PO that morning."
"Which we now know was bullshit. PO's claiming Vince was there, but I'd bet my pension he was already in Colorado by then. Someone got to that PO. Money or threats, doesn't matter—he lied."
"Keep looking."
"I am. We all are. But Shane..." Flint's voice dropped. "Whoever's backing Vince, they're good. Really good. And they've got resources we can't track."
April listened to all of this from the couch, Kevin visible through the window playing fetch with Benny and Pete in the yard. She felt like she was disappearing—erased from her own life. April didn't go to Riversong at all; Hannah and Sonny covered her shifts. The world kept turning without her.
Kevin was handling it better than she'd expected. Having Benny there helped—the dog slept in Kevin's room at night, andduring the day Kevin could work with him, practice commands, run around the property. Arden gave them an open invitation to visit the ranch up the road to see the horses and alpacas. Charlie took Kevin on hikes through the woods within Watchdog’s massive property. Their family and friends visited, bringing dinner and staying to eat and talk and just spend time with them. April was deeply grateful for everyone trying to bring her and Kevin a slice of normalcy.
But when Kevin was still, when he wasn't distracted, April could see the weight of it pressing down on him. The knowledge that somewhere out there, his biological father was planning something. Waiting. It brought her down, too.
Kevin asked twice when Vince was going to leave, when they could go home.
April didn't have an answer for that.
On the fifth day, Sonny showed up at her door in the middle of the day.
“Papa? What are you doing here, what’s wrong?”
Sonny came in, his face grim. “A courier came in, said he tried your house first but you weren’t there. I had to accept this. I’m so sorry.”
He held out an envelope, return address—Family Court, Boulder County.
“It’s okay, Papa. We can’t stay here forever, waiting. I’m actually a little relieved the hammer finally fell.”
Still, April's hands shook as she opened it.
