Part 2:
I crouched in the attic with dust in my throat and fear pressing so hard against my ribs I could barely breathe.
Below me, Caleb placed the passports on the hall table.
The man in the raincoat said, “The Bureau moved faster than expected.”
My stomach dropped.
Caleb’s jaw tightened. “How close?”
“Close enough that your wife’s sister may already know.”
My sister.
Mara.
I clutched the phone in my hand, praying it would light up again, praying it wouldn’t make a sound.
Caleb picked up my laptop. “She never checks anything. She won’t understand what she saw even if she saw it.”
The stranger laughed softly. “You married well.”
Caleb didn’t laugh.
“That wasn’t part of the plan,” he said.
For a second, I almost believed there was regret in his voice.
Then he added, “But the kid complicates things.”
My vision blurred.
Noah. Our four-year-old son, asleep miles away at Caleb’s parents’ house—or so I had believed.
The stranger said, “Your parents are already moving him.”
I bit my knuckle so hard I tasted blood.
Caleb nodded. “Good. Once we cross into Canada, everything resets.”
The phone in my hand vibrated. I nearly screamed. A message from Mara appeared.
FBI and local police are two minutes out. Stay hidden. Do not make noise. Noah is safe. We intercepted him.
I closed my eyes as tears spilled down my face.
Safe.
Below, Caleb’s phone rang.
He answered sharply. “Mom?”
His face changed.
“What do you mean they took him?”
The stranger stepped closer. “What happened?”
Caleb turned pale. “Noah’s gone. Police stopped them at the highway.”
The man swore. Then Caleb looked up.
Not directly at me, but toward the attic.
“Where’s Elise?”
My heart stopped. He moved down the hallway, checking rooms.
“Elise?” he called, voice smooth again. “Baby, where are you?”
I pressed myself behind a stack of storage bins.
The attic steps creaked.
Once.
Twice.
Then sirens erupted outside. Red and blue light flashed through the tiny attic vent. Caleb froze.
The front door exploded with pounding.
“FBI! Open the door!”
The man in the raincoat ran toward the back.
Caleb did not. He stood at the bottom of the attic stairs and looked up through the darkness.
For the first time in six years, I saw the real man behind my husband’s face. And he smiled.
“Your sister should have stayed out of this,” he said.
