7

On shaky legs, Maria rushed to the window and peered into the darkness.

The monster was out there, watching and waiting, ready to steal Layla.

Maria’d been naïve before, but no longer. How could she take Layla away without Raymond catching them?

Her mind froze.

Panic bubbled. Her breathing turned ragged, and she was on the verge of a panic attack.

None of this made any sense. Why not just take Layla that afternoon when he had the chance, rather than Emily?

Kidnapping Emily had been a mistake. And Raymond didn’t make mistakes. Maybe he didn’t have Emily at all.

Raymond. Alive.

Somewhere deep inside, she’d always known. She’d never felt safe. Her heart knew Raymond wasn’t dead. And if he was alive, why was he a free man?

She forced her breathing to slow, but her mind worked overtime. She should call her contact at Witness Protection. But, they’d lied to her. She couldn’t trust them. She couldn’t trust anyone.

The FBI, Homeland Security. They told her Raymond was dead. And now, someone had betrayed her. Someone told Raymond her location.

No, she wouldn’t call Morgan Reed. Even though she certainly hadn’t told Raymond their location, just hours ago she’d refused to help. Morgan acted as if Maria was crazy, soothing her like a child, offering psychological help.

Maria couldn’t trust anybody.

Except...Patti. Surely, Maria could trust her. Patti saved her life and rescued Layla. But Patti claimed she’d seen Raymond shot dead.

Had Patti lied?

Rejecting the idea, Maria shook her head. She couldn’t believe Patti would lie, not after what they’d been through together. The authorities must have lied to Patti, as well. It was the only explanation.

Maria trusted Patti with her life—and with Layla’s. If she could make it to Florida, Patti would keep Layla safe. Then, Maria could come back and tell the authorities about Raymond and Emily. She’d have to bluff him—make him think he was getting Layla, so he wouldn’t hurt Emily—but she definitely couldn’t go to the police until Layla was safe.

Maria walked into the kitchen. Wedging herself between the wall and the refrigerator, she pushed, and then grabbed the backpacks hidden behind it. She’d never quite trusted the fact she and Layla were truly safe. The escape bags were her backup plan. Always packed and ready to go in an instant.

One contained clothes and other necessities for Layla and herself. And the other contained all that remained of her old life—photos, birth certificates; and other valuable papers. She’d refused to get rid of them when she’d entered Witness Protection.

It also contained hope for a new life and money—lots of it. Raymond hadn’t left them destitute—Witness Protection made sure she received the money. She’d cashed the check and hidden the money with the bags.

For a rainy day.

And the rain was about to commence.

She walked back into the living room and stared out the window. Raymond was out there somewhere. If he could find the Flower Bouquet, he could find where she lived. He could be out there right this moment waiting for her to make a run for it.

He would be expecting her to drive away.

All she owned was the flower shop’s van—too obvious.

Raymond was probably sitting in it waiting for them to run.

She had to get a different car, but how? Steal a car? She wouldn’t know how—not that she could bring herself to steal a car. What a ridiculous thought.

She looked at her watch. It wasn’t that late.

Surely, one of her neighbors would still be up. Maybe she could borrow a car. Might as well start with Mrs. Lytle—no, too nosy. She’d try the guy down the hall. She didn’t know his name, but they always said hi when they saw each other.

At the end of the hall, she knocked and waited. Nothing. She knocked again—louder. After a moment, she heard movement, and then the door opened.

“I’m your neighbor down the hall.” She pointed towards her apartment.

“Yeah, I know.” His eyes were red and glassy. The smell of marijuana wafted out.

“I’ve got an emergency and I need to get to the airport, but my van’s not working. I thought maybe I could borrow your car, and then you could take a cab to pick it up tomorrow.” She held out a one hundred dollar bill. “I’ll pay you for the cab ride and the inconvenience.”

The door opened wider. “Make it two and I’ll drive you up myself.”

“My daughter’s going with me and she gets upset around strangers. I need to drive myself.”

“Glad to do it for five.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

He shrugged, pushing his greasy brown hair out of his eyes. “I know, but we wouldn’t want your daughter to get upset, would we?”

She gritted her teeth and smiled. “Fine. Thanks for being such a good neighbor.”

“My car’s in slot 215. Don’t worry about the keys, just lock it up. I’ll give you my spare and take mine with me to get the car.”

She held out her hand for the key.

He held out his hand. “Where’s my money?”