The first child was born today. A baby girl. I can hear her screams echo through the capitol building and feel a sense that our nation will continue to prosper.
—The journal of Isaac Ryland
The Morrissey farmhouse was still smoldering when Grant landed. Workers stood around, waiting for the smoke to clear before they entered the property. Grant thought it a waste of time; there would be nothing in the house of use.
“Sir, you shouldn’t be here,” a worker said.
He lifted his hand to block Grant’s access to the farm. Grant paused before running into the man’s arm.
“Do not touch me,” Grant said. “Do you know who I am?”
The worker wore a sneer and was about to yell at Grant. The man made eye contact and Grant watched the anger melt into astonishment.
“You’re Grant Marsden,” the man said.
He dropped his arm. Grant continued walking up to the house. Hansen remained close behind him.
“So this is where it all started?” Hansen asked.
“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” Grant said.
He had spent the plane ride filling the agent in on Amelia’s escape and where they stood now. They walked up the long drive, the gravel crunching underneath Grant’s shoes. He looked down and saw the dust covering his navy loafers.
“I forgot how dirty it was here,” Grant said. “I can’t seem to keep clean today.”
“What are you expecting to find?”
“Proof that she was here,” Grant said. “I didn’t expect this.”
“Why not?”
“Amelia’s parents sold her to me,” Grant said. “I didn’t think she would come to rescue them, but I didn’t think she had it in her to come here and murder them either. I guess I was wrong.”
They continued to walk past the house and Grant saw his proof sitting in the back of the driveway: the black RAG vehicle.
“Does this look like one of the cars taken from the earlier crime scene?” Grant asked.
“The plates are from that area,” Hansen said. “Where are the other two cars though?”
“I’m not sure,” Grant said. “Honestly I assumed two of them were left closer to the orphanage fire. But why would they drive all the way up here and switch to one of Mr. Morrissey’s cars?”
“They didn’t want to get caught,” Hansen said.
“Four men dressed as RAG agents driving this wouldn’t draw any attention,” Grant said. “It would have been easier for them to switch the plates than ditch the SUV.”
“Do you think they’re still here somewhere?” Hansen asked, moving his fingers to grab his weapon.
“No,” Grant said.
He walked farther toward the garage. The door was wide open and there were two cars inside.
“Last time I was here Mr. Morrissey had another vehicle,” Grant said. “They left in his car.”
“Maybe it performed better than the SUV?” Hansen said.
Grant ignored the man’s stupid suggestion.
“Four men and a woman driving along in a government vehicle could be easily explained if anyone spotted them,” Grant said. “What couldn’t be?”
“I don’t follow,” Hansen said.
“They split up,” Grant said. “Amelia came here alone.”
“That would be suicide for her,” Hansen said.
“She is still alive, so apparently not,” Grant said. “If she were without a male escort it would be unexplainable if someone spotted her driving a government car.”
“It would be unexplainable to see a woman driving any car,” Hansen said, “regardless of the vehicle.”
“True,” Grant said. “Imagine you are an eighteen-year-old girl who knows how to drive. It would be dangerous if anyone saw you in the car.”
“Not if she didn’t look like a girl,” Hansen said.
“Amelia is quite feminine,” Grant said. “Even with a short haircut she still looks female.”
“Then I would get off the road as quick as possible,” Hansen said. “Find a person to smuggle me to my destination. Avoid the public eye.”
“Exactly,” Grant said.
“Does she have any other family in the area?”
“She has two sisters, but they’re both married and neither of them is close,” Grant said. “I don’t believe they would give her aid.”
“A friend?” Hansen asked.
“Amelia lived a sheltered life,” Grant said. “Until she decided to run. There are very few people she knows at all in this country.”
Grant turned around and started walking back down the driveway.
“Don’t you want to look through the car?” Hansen asked.
“It won’t tell us anything I don’t already know,” Grant said.
“I think you’re wrong,” Hansen said. “She’s still with the men. It wouldn’t make sense to separate.”
Grant stopped and walked back to Hansen. He went straight for the SUV’s driver’s-side door and opened it.
“I am assuming the men Amelia is traveling with are somewhat tall,” Grant said. “Do you think they would require the seat to be so close to the pedals?”
Grant did not break eye contact with Hansen. He didn’t even bother to check if the seat was pushed forward, because Grant was certain Mia was alone when she switched cars. The agent’s wide eyes told Grant he was right. Grant slammed the door and started walking down the driveway again. This time Hansen followed him.
“Don’t doubt my methods again,” Grant said.
“Where are we going now?”
“To visit one of the few people Amelia knows,” Grant said.
After his last run-in with Frank Piozzi, Grant assumed the man knew better than to give Amelia aid, but he couldn’t be certain unless he went to investigate for himself.