He lay in his bed in South Bend, Fern curled at his side. She’d fallen asleep over an hour ago. Running his fingers through her hair, he thought again of how precious this life was to him.
Why should they take it away from him?
He wouldn’t allow it. He’d defend what was his, and that included Fern, their tiny home, and the family they might one day have.
The feeling of desperation closed in on him once more. He’d thought when they arrested the kid, Andrew, that the police would back off. But that wasn’t happening. Instead, the hunt seemed to have grown more intense.
Slipping out of their bed, he walked into the living room. From the front window he could see up and down the tidy street. The streetlights cast halos on the cars parked beside each home.
Perhaps he should stay here. Why keep returning to Middlebury? Why take the risk?
Stay here. Lay low. Allow things to cool off for a while.
It wasn’t how he’d planned it, but then, what had been?
His life had spun out of control when Owen Esch had stopped into the sandwich shop in South Bend. That the lad had recognized him—had actually stopped to talk—sealed his own fate. At least he hadn’t asked about Fern, hadn’t raised her suspicions, though Owen had looked at her curiously enough.
He had known, in that moment, what he’d have to do.
The same certainty came over him again as he stood in the predawn studying the scene outside his home.
He’d stay away—not forever, but for a time.
But he would return. He wouldn’t allow them to take what was his.