As quietly as possible, I shove a few essentials into it, then get dressed in my jeans and hoodie and favorite sneakers and tiptoe out of the bedroom.
I don’t take one last look at him. My heart is aching enough as it is.
Downstairs, I find the keys for one of the cars and leave the house in absolute silence.
The only obstacle I face now is the gate.
One of the guards comes to my window to talk to me, confused why I’m up so early.
“Where are you headed?” he asks as he leans in. “It’s freezing outside,” he adds.
“I’m just shooting out to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy quickly, then I’m going to drop the meds with a friend of mine. She’s not feeling well, and I want to go and sit with her,” I smile.
“Anton is letting you go alone?” he asks, glancing back at the house.
“Yes, it’s close enough to drive and still very early. The roads will be quiet,” I explain.
He waffles, unsure, but not able to argue with me because I am technically his superior, being Anton’s wife.
Finally, he nods.
“Please drive safely, the roads are slippery.”
“I will,” I smile, rolling my window back up.
My heartbeat is loud in my ears as I listen to the gate automatically closing behind me. I don’t speed off. I don’t drive like a crazy person. I just ease my foot down on the accelerator and drive off like I do every day. Normal. Calm. Not alerting anyone to my internal distress.
When I am far enough away from the mansion, I pull to the side of the road, squinting head to see if the car stopped outside the gas station ahead of me has the right number plate. It does.
I hurry out of the car I took from Anton and leave it there, key in the ignition, door closed. Then I run towards the Uber I booked.
“Car troubles?” the driver asks, confused about what is going on.
“Yes, the stupid thing keeps stalling in the cold. I’ll come back and fetch it later.”
“You sure it’s okay to leave it there? We can call a tow truck or something,” he says, looking in the rearview mirror at the car standing alone on the roadside.
“No, let’s go. I’m too cold now. I’ll call someone when I get home.”
“Alright, so we’re going to…” he looks at the destination I’ve booked on the app. “Red Heron Hotel?”
“Yes, please.”
He drops me outside the hotel, and I climb out with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I go inside, walk up to the reception desk, and ask if they can possibly help me book a taxi service. The plan was never to stay here. I don’t want Anton hacking into my phone or something and seeing where the Uber guy dropped me.
The plan is for them to call me a taxi so it can’t be traced back to me.
Within an hour, I'm at a different hotel, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out of the window at the snow falling quietly outside.
My phone is in my hand, but it’s off, and I’m nervous to turn it on.
People can track people through phones.
Picking up the hotel phone, I ask reception to dial Chicago for me.
It rings twice before Kayla answers.
“Hi, it’s me. Did I wake you?” I glance at the blinking red alarm clock on the hotel nightstand. It’s half past five here. Shit, that makes it….half past four in Chicago.
