Kicked it.
Didn’t open.
Kicked again.
It was solid, more solid even than the door back at the firehouse or the pantry.
There was shouting from inside, and Vaughn knew he was running out of time. He backed up and took aim.
Squeezed off two shots. Both direct hits and the lock shattered.
Now when he kicked, the door buckled inward.
Stashing the laptop nearly cost Ivy—she barely made it to the door in time.
Tristan was right behind her.
She flicked the lock, threw the sliding door open, and sprinted into the night.
“Get back here! Ivy!Ivy!”
Ivy ran as hard and as fast as she could.
The sound of crashing water grew louder. The grass beneath her still-untied shoes a little longer.
Ivy didn’t slow.
The back of the property was expensive, but not endless. Ivy knew she would eventually run out of space.
“Ivy!”
And Tristan was gaining on her.
The cliff emerged from the darkness so abruptly that Ivy nearly pitched right over the side. She skidded to a stop, moving her arms in comedic circles to maintain her balance.
Water roared.
“Ivy!” He was right behind her now. “Iv—”
Two gunshots broke the night.
Ivy swiveled.
Tristan was backlit by the moon, full and bright. The bluish light glinted off the blade.
“Just tell me.” Tristan was out of breath. “Please, Ivy, tell me you have the laptop.”
No longer furious—more sad than anything else.
Ivy felt a pang of guilt.
“Please...”
This wasn’t about the laptop. Not for him, not for her. Probably never had been.
It was about a family legacy. It was about having something to definitely link to both of their lost childhoods. To their fathers. To justify them spending all of their time at work and not with them.
Then she remembered the bodies in the barn.
