Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Does she trust us?” I asked.
“Probably not, but we’re all she’s got right now.” He ate a wing and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Move fast. She’ll be ready at four a.m.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
Jackson hadn’t been lying when he said the woman was frightened. She was visibly trembling in the front hall of the home where I picked her up. “It will be okay, Sophie,” I told her, meeting her distrustful eyes. “My name is Zach Barrett. And you’re safe with me.”
“My daughter, Eden,” she whispered in a British accent. “She’s asleep upstairs.”
“I’ll put your things in the car while you wake her,” I said. After loading two small bags into the back of the SUV, I went back inside to find the woman standing at the top of the steep staircase, carrying a sleeping child.
Nervous that she would fall, I took the steps up two at a time and reached for the girl. “Let me.”
“But—”
“If anything happens to either of you, I’ll get fired,” I told her, transferring the child to my arms. Sound asleep, she didn’t protest, her head resting neatly on my shoulder, my arms securely around her back. “And I happen to like my job. I’m good at it.”
Sophie gave me a ghost of a smile.
We went out to the car, which idled in the dark under the watch of another Cole Security hire. He opened the passenger-side back door for me and went around to the other side of the car to help Sophie in. I carefully placed the little girl in the back seat and buckled her seatbelt.
Sophie slipped in beside her daughter and covered her with a blanket before looking up at me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I tucked the blanket around the little girl’s legs.
“Do you have children, Mr. Barrett?”
I almost said no. “Yes.”
“I can tell.”
Swallowing hard, I reached into the front, where the yellow envelope rested on the passenger seat, then handed it to her. “These are for you.”
Sophie looked at me blankly.
“The new identities,” I explained. “And some cash.”
Her eyes closed. “Right. This is all so strange and frightening.” They opened again. “Tell me we’ll be okay again.”
“You’ll be okay,” I said. “You have my word.”
She studied me for a moment. “I believe you.”
A few minutes later, we were on our way to Oregon.
The drive was long, over twelve hours. We stopped a couple times to eat and get gas, and I was also careful not to speed—no need to call attention to ourselves.
At the gas station, Sophie asked if she could take Eden inside to use the bathroom, and I requested that she wait for me to accompany her inside the store. She nodded and dutifully sat in the back seat until I opened the door, locked the SUV, and followed them to the restrooms. I waited for them a little ways away, and when they came out, the little girl wanted a snack. When the mother said no, because she’d left her purse in the car, I offered to buy it.
At first, Sophie demurred, but when Eden started to cry, she relented. I watched the pint-sized version of her mother peruse the selection, her eyes wide and excited.
“American snacks are new to her,” Sophie said, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen yet on her face. “She’s never seen half this stuff.”
“She can pick whatever she wants. As much as she wants.”
Back on the road, Sophie caught my eyes in the rearview mirror. “How old are your children, Zach?”
“I have a grown son.”
She looked surprised. “You seem young to have a grown son.”
“Yeah. Life is unpredictable.”
“It is,” she said, her eyes drifting to her daughter, who joyfully shoveled bright orange Cheetos into her mouth. “And scary sometimes. But I guess . . .” She closed her eyes. “I guess sometimes you just have to believe everything happens for a reason, and trust the people you love to protect and guide you—even if they seem to be guiding you to a whole new life.”
Her words stuck with me.
After delivering Sophie and Eden safely to Rose Canyon, I went back to San Diego and my silent, stuffy apartment. I’d done my job, but I remained on edge—as if I’d forgotten some detail or left something to chance. Multiple times, I checked in with Jackson to make sure everything was okay with Sophie and Eden, and he said they were fine.
I went to the gym to try to work off some of the restlessness, but it didn’t help. I unpacked. Did laundry. Cleaned out the fridge (not much in there, anyway). I turned the television on, then off again. I picked up the thriller I’d bought in the airport, but I found myself stuck on the same page for long stretches of time, not seeing the text, not caring what happened, not invested in anyone in the story. The only person I cared about was Millie.