Charlotte sat at the table in her hotel room, the dishes from her breakfast pushed aside as she looked through the complimentary newspaper.
Determined to stay out of sight, she had deliberately remained in her room since she woke up, waiting for the morning rush hour to subside while she ate and searched through the articles, hoping they would provide some clue for what to do next. Coding messages in public places was an old-school method of communication, but it was also one of the most efficient.
Across the room, the television was tuned to the news. Her ears strained for any tidbit about what had happened at the farm. She didn’t know if the lack of reports was because she was out of her local area or because the NSA had managed to keep it quiet.
Frequently through the night, she had flipped on the television to keep her company. She had thought that once the adrenaline had worn off she would collapse into an exhausted sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she heard the gunshots again and saw the face of her father’s killer invading her mind.
She rubbed at her eyes, now swollen from her frequent sobs. Only a few months ago, she would have started her morning with her mom’s freshly baked muffins or her dad’s scrambled eggs. Some deep philosophical debate would usually ensue, the topics ranging from the state of world politics to the latest football scores. A sharp stab of sorrow pierced through her at the knowledge that she no longer had any family to call her own.
The thought of what Kurt’s family must be feeling only added to her grief. The youngest of his three children was only two, even younger than she had been when she’d lost her biological parents.
She reached for a tissue, drying her eyes when tears threatened yet again. With some effort, she struggled to settle her emotions so she could focus again on her search through the newspaper. The coded message from Ace wouldn’t be visible to anyone not knowing what to look for, and only she would understand how to read it. Unless it too had been compromised.
So much information had already leaked. The location of the farm. Her dad and Kurt’s identities. And one more fact that continued to haunt her: Phil had known her name.
How could he have possibly known about her? Unless, somehow, the men at the farm had managed to get it from her dad or Kurt. Could the emergency protocols also have been revealed to the men who had chased after her?
She was on the sixth page of the world news section when she found it. The article in the first column contained the key phrase she needed. It took her a couple minutes to decipher the code, finally uncovering the hidden meaning: Third city, six weeks. Mentally, she flipped through the locations her dad had drilled into her head to determine the location of where Ace would meet her. Raleigh, North Carolina.
A sense of relief swept over her at the thought that she would no longer be running away but that she now had a specific destination to run to. She flipped the paper to the want ads. The listings for used cars quickly indicated that prices were much higher in Washington, D.C., than in rural Pennsylvania, and the reliability of those cars in her price range appeared questionable. Also, how could she buy a vehicle without identification? Not having ID also eliminated the possibility of taking the bus or the train beyond the local transit system.
The man at the train station in Baltimore would know this. If he had access to government resources, it wouldn’t take him long to track down the cab company and figure out where she was dropped off. She needed to get out of town in a way that wouldn’t be easy to trace.
She flipped the page of the newspaper and noticed a section she hadn’t previously considered. A few phone calls later, an unusual solution presented itself.
Five minutes before the hotel’s posted check-out time, Charlotte walked outside onto the sidewalk. She glanced back at the stately building behind her, her stomach tightening as she considered that she wouldn’t enjoy such comfortable accommodations again anytime soon.
* * *
“This is ridiculous.” Kennedy stood at the edge of the living room, still sulking from the loss of a house she clearly thought should be hers.
“What’s bothering you more? That I got the house or that you didn’t?” Jake asked. Kennedy’s husband had taken their grandmother out for a drive, and he knew this was the one time he would have to air out their differences without an audience.
“I just thought . . .” Her voice trailed off weakly.
“What? That you would get everything?” Jake saw the truth of his statement on her face and was surprised at how much her assumption hurt. Sure, he hadn’t been on the best of terms with his father when he’d chosen to move to New York, but time had healed those wounds. Or at least it had helped them scab over.
“Grow up, Kennedy. This isn’t about you. We just lost our parents. Don’t you think it’s time we start appreciating that we still have each other?”
She grew quiet, and Jake stood braced, not sure if she was finally calming down and working through her feelings or if this was just the calm before the storm. Her voice was tight when she offered an apology in the simplest form. “I’m sorry.”
Surprised by her sudden change, Jake cleared his throat. “It’s been a rough few days.” He stepped toward her, relieved when she reached out to hug him in return. “We’re both going to be okay, you know.”
“I just can’t stand the thought of this place being sold,” Kennedy admitted with surprising sincerity. She pulled back, and her cheeks were moist with tears. “I might not want to live here, but I want to know I can come back when I want to. You know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Jake said. “We’ll figure something out. Like Mr. Laskin said, I couldn’t sell it for at least a year, even if I wanted to. That’s a long time for us to let things fall into place.”
“What are you going to do about Grandma?”
His eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how much Mom and Dad told you, but her confusion has been getting worse. There’s no way she can stay here by herself.”
A new wave of panic rushed through Jake. Not only had his parents left him the family estate, but they had also entrusted him with something much more valuable: the care of the matriarch of their family.
“What were they thinking?” Jake muttered.
“I’ve been wondering that since the reading of the will.” She looked around the room as though absorbing memories. “I know you may not want to hear this, but you could put her in a nursing home. It would be within your power as trustee to do that since she can’t live by herself.”
“Kennedy, she’s lived in this house for more than sixty years.”
“I know. I don’t like the idea either, but at the rate she’s going, before long, she might not even know the difference.”
“She would know.” Jake gripped the back of a wing-backed chair. “And there’s no way I’m going to make a decision like that without asking her what she wants first.”
“That’s fine, but the fact remains, you can’t leave her here by herself.”
“I can probably work here for the next month or two until I figure something out.”
A car engine sounded outside. “That must be Scott.” Kennedy glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. I should probably go.”
“Aren’t you going to stay for dinner?” The minute the words were out of his mouth, he realized that heating up one of the many casseroles the neighbors had dropped by would likely be his responsibility tonight.
“No. I’m not really hungry.”
Jake followed her onto the front porch and watched as Scott helped their grandmother out of the car. As though seeing her for the first time, Jake took a critical look at the woman who had been such a constant presence in his life.
Her shoulders slumped forward a bit now, and her body seemed somehow more frail than he remembered. More than her physical appearance was the distant and detached look of confusion he had seen darken her eyes so many times since he had returned home.
Just that morning Jake had gone into the kitchen to find his grandmother trying to make a pot of coffee without putting water in the coffee pot first. Thankfully, the smell of the empty container heating had caught his attention, and he had quickly remedied the problem. What would have happened had he not been there?
The idea of forcing her to move just so he could go back to his life in New York was something he wasn’t prepared to do. He couldn’t imagine personally tending to his grandmother’s every need, but clearly he would have to find some solution. Until he could, it appeared he would have to find a way to work from his childhood home.