Ethan heard the pounding in his dreams, but it wasn't until Sadie shook him awake that his heart started racing. He sat up, blinking away the web of sleep across his eyes. She touched his arm.
“The door,” she said.
The pounding came again, followed by a muffled voice. Ethan couldn't make out the exact words, yet the cadence and tone told him enough to make a guess. Something similar to, “Police! Open up.”
He tore free from the last tendrils of sleep, hopped out of bed, and scrambled into the pants he'd left on the floor.
Sadie sat up. “What are you doing?”
After slapping his right pocket to feel if his cell phone was still there (it was), Ethan yanked open a dresser drawer and fished out the first t-shirt his hand touched. “Cops have come for Graham.”
“What do you mean, come for him? To ask more questions?”
Ethan tugged the shirt over his head. “They don't pound on a door like that when they want to ask questions.”
It was too soon. He wasn't ready to deal with this, hadn't had a chance to make a plan. Now he had to act on instinct alone. They way he saw it, he had two choices—let the cops take his son . . . or not.
He snatched Sadie's blouse off the back of the chair she had hung it on and tossed it to her. “Get dressed. I need you to stall them.”
Another series of beats against the door. Ethan felt each one rattle in his chest.
Sadie stared blankly at him. “Ethan, you can't—”
“He's not going with them.”
“You have a lawyer. We'll get bail. I'll help if you—”
“No.” He tensed so much the word felt like glass coming through his throat. “I will not see my son in a jail cell for even a second. Not one fucking second.”
He spun around and left the bedroom without waiting for a response. He didn't have time. He had to get Graham up, get him dressed, get him out of there.
Graham already sat up, bleary-eyed. He squinted at Ethan as Ethan hurried to his bedside and knelt down.
“We have to get going,” Ethan whispered.
“Where?” Graham asked, voice thick with sleep.
“The police are here. I'm not going to let them take you. But you have to do what I say without question.”
Graham's mouth opened, closed, opened.
“Please, Graham. Unless you want to spend time in jail, you have to trust me.”
Graham's eyes shifted to something behind Ethan. Ethan looked over his shoulder. Sadie, now dressed, stood in the doorway.
“They stopped knocking,” she said.
Ethan's heart pumped so hard it hurt. He jabbed a finger in the direction of the front door. “Go out there. Talk to them. Tell them we aren't here.”
“That's crazy. Why would I be here without you?”
The lie came so easily. And why not? It wasn't the first time he had concocted a story for the police to keep himself out of trouble. “Tell them you're house sitting. We went up north to visit Graham's grandparents.”
Graham made a quite sound between a hiccup and a gasp. “I don't have grandparents.”
“Yes you do.” Ethan tugged at his son's arm to encourage him out of bed. “Hurry up and get dressed.”
He stood and went to Sadie. He took both her hands in his and pressed them against his lips while staring her in the eyes, willing her to feel what he felt—the panic, the desperation, the need to protect his one remaining child no matter what the consequence.
When he lowered her hands from his lips all he could manage to say was, “Please.”
“I can't lie to them.”
“Say whatever you want. Just buy us a minute. One minute.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don't know,” he said, and it felt like a lie. Below the surface of his panic, Ethan's mind had worked ahead. Without having to consciously decide anything, he felt he already knew what came next. He just didn't have time to explain. “We'll figure that out later. Please, Sadie, help us.”
The thumping returned. Again Ethan could hear the voice calling through the door, this time more clearly. “Mr. Trent, if you're home, please open up.”
By now Graham had a pair of jeans on. He tugged on a sweater and looked at Ethan, face pale, his lips thin and white. “I'm ready.”
Ethan's mind raced. All hope of escape rested with Sadie.
“It's all about timing,” he pressed on, hoping momentum might carry Sadie past her reservations. “Ask a lot of questions. Play it like you have no idea why they're here. You don't have to let them in unless they hit you with a warrant.”
“I don't think I can do this.”
“We'll slip out the back. All you have to do is talk to them.”
Sadie's eyes shifted toward Graham, then back to Ethan.
More pounding at the door.
He spun and took Graham by the arm. “We're out of here. Follow me and stay quiet.”
He pulled Graham down the hall to the bathroom which had two doors, one that fed to the hall and one that opened to the mudroom by the back door. He led Graham through the bathroom, but before slipping out into the mudroom he peeked around the blinds in the bathroom window. The angle gave him a view of the cement patio stretching to the lawn as well as a large portion of the neighbor's yard. Only a small part of the patio was obscured by where the family room jutted back from the house, but as far as Ethan could tell the back way looked clear.
As he opened the second bathroom door, he heard Sadie move down the hall behind them and head into the living room.
Graham pulled his arm free and threw Ethan a scowl. Stop pulling, he mouthed.
Ethan motioned Graham into the mudroom, then stepped in behind him. They paused by the back door while Ethan listened.
He heard Sadie open the front door in the midst of another series of knocks, stopping the noise abruptly. He picked out her voice.
“Is there a problem?”
The responding voice sounded like Staver.
Ethan turned the knob on the back door and eased it open. When he pushed on the storm door the hinges creaked, turning every muscle in Ethan's body to stone for an instant. He forced himself to keep moving, opening the storm door wide, stepping outside, and holding it open for Graham to come through. Trying to find a balance between speed and stealth, Ethan eased the door back to keep it from slamming shut, but ignored the creaking hinges this time. Pure silence was less of a priority than just getting the hell out of there.
Door closed, now out in the open, Ethan turned. He made sure he had Graham's attention and pointed toward the back fence.
Graham glanced to where Ethan pointed then shot back a look as if asking if Ethan was serious. Ethan nodded to assure him he was, but before he could move, he heard a radio squawk from the section of the patio obscured by where the house jutted. A second later a uniformed officer stepped around the corner and froze at the sight of Graham and Ethan.
The next instant belonged to whoever could react first. Ethan's only advantage came from his mind already functioning on instinct, his body ready for the unexpected. He barreled forward, both palms thrust out, and struck the stunned officer square in the chest, knocking him off his feet.
“Run,” Ethan said in the same breath.
The officer sailed down and out of Ethan's narrowed focus, nothing more than a conquered obstacle.
Ethan sprinted for the back fence, sparing only a fraction of his attention to listen for Graham's own quickened breathing alongside of him.
They hit the fence almost simultaneously, but Graham thumped to the grass on the other side while Ethan was still swinging his leg over the top.
“Stop!”
Ethan dropped into the neighbor's yard and chanced a look back at the cop. He was already on his feet and running after them.
Ethan twisted away from the fence and charged through the neighbor's yard to the driveway.
Graham ran ahead and skid to a halt when he reached the sidewalk. He looked over his shoulder for Ethan.
Ethan waved him on. “Across the street. Cut through yards.”
They ran on, never looking back. Ethan kept expecting to hear more shouts behind them. The sense of a pursuer right at his back clung to him like a trailing streamer in the breeze. He refused to pause for even a second to look back and prove the feeling right.
Assume they're right on your heels. Keep running until your breath gives out or you find a place to hide.
A rush bloomed from the center of his chest. The wind in his teary eyes, the stitch in his side, the glassy chill to each gasp of air tearing down his throat.
Just like old times, huh?
As they zigzagged, hopping fences and cutting through yards, Ethan couldn't help but smile. Despite all that had gone wrong, the thrill—the absolute and natural high—this chase gave him felt so God damned right.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Ethan led the way through one final yard that came to the edge of a golf course. Across from the course was a thatch of woods separating the golf course from a small airport that catered to private recreational planes. The cover of the woods was his destination.
Once over the back fence and onto the course grounds, Ethan paused long enough to look back, chest heaving. He didn't see any sign of pursuit.
Graham scampered to a halt at Ethan's side and bent over gasping. “Now what?”
“The woods.”
Graham's brow wrinkled, but he didn't question Ethan.
When they reached the tree line, Ethan stopped again to look behind them. The September morning air had a chill to it, and while the run had kept him warm, each breath felt like a snowstorm in his lungs.
No one ran across the golf course after them. At some point while cutting through yards they had either lost the cop, or he had broken off pursuit.
The fix was temporary. They couldn't hide out in the woods for long.
He pulled his cell from his pocket.
Graham panted beside him, watching Ethan's every move. Ethan could tell the poor kid had a thousand questions, or maybe just the one—What the hell are we doing?
Ethan flipped open his phone and stared at the number pad, his mind wiping blank. For a moment, he wasn't sure he could pull her phone number out from memory, and it was the last number he ever thought he'd need on speed dial.
He stared at the phone a good twenty seconds before Graham took the phone from him and punched in a number. Graham handed the phone back. “Mom, right?”
Staring at his son, Ethan slowly put the phone to his ear, heard it ringing. A moment later she picked up.
“Hello?”
Ethan's voice caught in his throat.
“Josh, is that you, asshole?”
“Rain, it's Ethan.”
Silence.
“I need your help.”