Alexandra had waited until the car drove away before moving. She’d spent precious seconds debating her options before deciding that she had no choice but to check on the officer. If he was still alive, she had to call an ambulance.
It didn’t matter that she was sure to be the prime suspect in the shooting. If he died because she didn’t do anything to save him, she would be complicit in his murder.
But she didn’t have to touch the body to know he was dead.
He’d been shot in the face.
So she’d done the only thing she could and ran. She’d sprinted across farm fields and returned to Kendall’s house, where there was a Volkswagen Jetta parked in the garage. An older model, it didn’t have any new technology that would make the car trackable.
She had a key to the house—she’d been the last to leave and had planned to return after Christmas and continue sorting—and used it to enter and grab the car key hanging from the peg by the garage door. Before leaving the house, she’d picked up the receiver for the landline phone to confirm phone service had been cut off.
In the heartbeat before she knew the phone didn’t work, she wondered who she’d call if it did. She couldn’t call Erica. Erica would have picked up Gemma by now, and the police, once they confirmed Alexandra’s identity, would try to track her down through her child, leading straight to Erica.
Would they take her baby and put her in foster care?
Surely that process would take a few days?
She was in unimaginable trouble and couldn’t begin to understand why.
Thankfully, the Jetta’s engine started and, even better, had a full tank of gas. She was on the road only twenty-five minutes after fleeing the crime scene.
Now, more than an hour after borrowing Kendall’s car, she was driving north. She had no clue where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to put distance between herself and the dead cop and Kendall’s house.
Had someone found the body already? How long would it take for them to trace her to Kendall?
A dog could follow her scent, but it would take time to get a dog to the scene. From there, how long would it take to figure out she’d taken a car from the garage?
There were so many variables. Right now, Tanya was driving to her home in Philadelphia, where she would stay until after Christmas. Would the police be able to track her down quickly?
Alexandra was on the main interstate heading north, trying to figure out where she could go and who she could call.
Erica and Lee had friends who worked for Raptor, a private security firm that would have the ability to help and protect her while an investigation was underway. But no one could hide her if there was a warrant out for her arrest. Harboring a fugitive would put the company in jeopardy.
Alexandra wasn’t really friends with any of the key Raptor players. Those friendships had formed after she and JT broke up. That was his world, so she’d stayed away. She’d met Raptor’s owner, Senator Alec Ravissant, and the CEO, Keith Hatcher, along with their wives at Erica and Lee’s wedding a few years ago, but that was all.
Still, she felt certain they would help her, if she could find a way to contact them without going through Erica or Lee. She wouldn’t risk her daughter’s safety.
Gemma. What would happen to Gemma?
She was safe with Erica, a person who loved her, but she’d wonder where her mother was.
She was nearing the northern part of Maryland when she spotted a sign for Catoctin Mountain Park. It was a National Park and home to the Camp David presidential retreat. She’d spent many weeks with JT at his father’s cabin—enclosed by a whopping ninety acres of Talon-owned land—which was nearby.
Her breath caught as she thought of the house, situated at the center of a vast, private wilderness. Isolated and quiet with only one road for access, it might as well be an island for the buffer it offered from the world.
Did JT still own the property? He would have inherited it when his father died.
The proximity of the cabin to the presidential retreat meant the Talons had installed a sturdy gate to keep out trespassers, and the house itself was near the top of a ridge, deep inside the property boundary.
Alexandra knew where the emergency gate key was hidden. Same with the house key.
If JT hadn’t sold the place, she’d bet he still used the same hiding places.
She had no connection with JT anymore. Their breakup had been epic and painful. The cops might question him at some point, but he’d be far down the list. And JT would never in a million years guess that she’d flee to his cabin, the place where he broke her heart one week before their wedding.