ora

ports car faded into t

ng windows. I yanked the heavy blackout cur

y handbag, I pulled out a thick, unm

entering a dynamic, rotating passco

against the Lake Michigan shore filled my ear,

am

eet five-year-ol

built around my heart cracked. A sharp ache seize

d, forcing my voice to stay ste

perceptive. "You sound sad, Mama." A loud kissi

too, baby,"

go look at the stars through the telesco

tantly. "What happen

e down with Darrel today and the arrogan

ge hissed. "Thank god we hid Eliza.

t," I said. "Is the

," Paig

iped the moistu

are-foot master closet. I hit the switch. A massive crystal chandelie

silk gown-Darrel's favorite

ses, skirts, and blouses off their velvet han

nst the hardwood. The closet looke

nylon suitcase. Unzipping it, I threw in three pairs of faded s

encrypted solid-state module. I carefully slid the biometric-locked hardware into the hidden, padded lining of my suitcase. That tiny piece of

ll. Seven years of marriage, and th

n. My long, perfectly styled dark hair hung down my back-exa

I pulled out a pair

a fistful of hair at the nape of my

r fell onto the pristin

new, jagged bob

ement ring off my finger and tos

oor with a sharp clink a

my suitcase and walked o