I’d been running along the main road for what felt like an hour, darting in and out of the shadows. The foreboding forest stretched forever behind and in front of me. A few cars had whizzed by me, but I was too afraid to flag any of them down for fear they belonged to Rayner’s men. No, hitch-hiking was definitely not an option. But at this rate, it would take me maybe seven or eight hours to get back to Westbridge. By then, the cops might already have a BOLO out for me. Lorelai would probably haul my ass away the minute I stepped back into Northbridge. Or Westbridge, even.

All of this was assuming Rayner called the cops on me. But of course he would have; why not? He probably wanted to see me behind bars, preferably for the rest of my life. Maybe I could save myself some trouble and just surrender. Turn myself in, before Rayner’s men laid their dirty paws on me.

Just as I ran through my options once more in my head, bright high beams assailed my vision and I automatically raised my arm to shield my face. A fast car zigzagged toward me, its driver probably inebriated.

“Get in,” someone cried.

Cally.

“What the hell—”

“No time. Just get in.”

I had only a split second to make a decision. If she was working with her dad, I would be fucked. But if for some reason she wasn’t…

I opened the passenger door and slid into the Porsche’s sleek leather seat. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here,” Cally mumbled. Her forehead was dotted with perspiration, and her dress was hiked up and bunched around her waist.

“You okay? You don’t look so great,” I pointed out. “Where—”

“Shut the hell up, Ryder.”

We drove in silence for too long. I didn’t want to be the one to initiate the conversation, so I leaned back and tried not to fidget. It had already grown dark, and the Porsche’s high beams were the only things illuminating the dirt road. One thing that did bring me relief, though, was the fact that we were driving away from the estate.

“What—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cally snapped, gripping the wheel hard.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Okay. But listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have pulled a gun on you.”

Cally didn’t acknowledge my apology. Maybe she had an argument with her old man and he let his mask slip. Whatever it was, it was working in my favor. After what felt like ten more minutes of silence, Cally said, “Did you know? About the photo?”

I considered lying. But what good would that do? “Yes,” I replied, leaving out the fact that I’d planted the damn thing in Paul’s drawer.

“Who is she? The woman in the photo?”

“Orielle,” I said without elaboration.

Cally suck in a sharp breath. “Your sis—”

“Yes. Or daughter. I know, it’s so fucked up.”

“It was…horrifying, what happened to her,” Cally said, a tremble in her soft voice.

“I know. I couldn’t bear to even look at the photo. They kept accusing me of all these terrible things, and the whole time, all I could think about was how much she’d suffered. How awful it must’ve been for her.”

“Did you ever get the chance to see her? Talk to her?”

“Once, very briefly, I saw her. But they wouldn’t let me talk to her. She disappeared three days after that. Presumed dead a year later, since she had disappeared under suspicious circumstances.”

“Did they think you were involved?”

“For a while. But then my alibi was airtight and they couldn’t twist that. I’d been in jail; couldn’t afford bail, and had no one on the outside to help me.”

“Maybe she ran away? Wanted a fresh start?”

“Maybe.” Unlikely though. Orielle had been close with her mother, Veronica. If she’d been planning to run away, she would’ve at least told her mother. Or took her along.

“My dad…when he saw the photo…he freaked out. Forced me to delete it. When I refused, he grabbed my phone and erased it himself. That’s why I left. He looked so guilty.”

My plan worked. I knew that if Cally ever confronted her father with that photo of Orielle, he would get riled up and make a mistake. Once he made one mistake, others would follow. I was starting to gain the upper hand.

“I don’t understand,” Cally continued. “Do you really think my dad did that to her?”

“I do.”

“Do you have proof?” Cally insisted, shaking her head a little, as if incapable of processing this new information.

“I already told you, I don’t have proof. That’s why I need your help.”

“Right.”

“But you saw for yourself how he reacted to Orielle’s photo.”

“Right.”

“Did he seem shocked and disgusted, like a regular person, or did he seem guilty?”

“Definitely guilty. Well, maybe. I wasn’t too sure. Maybe I misinterpreted…”

“Stop making excuses for him, Cally. He’s a monster. Trust me.”

“How do you know so much about my father?”

“I used to do his dirty work. I was always expendable, and when I got too close to finding out the truth about him, he cut me loose and stuck me in prison.”

“I don’t—” Cally bit her bottom lip. Her mascara was streaking, and she looked like a frightened raccoon. “You said you didn’t know my father.”

“I lied, Cally. But you already knew that, remember? Why don’t we head somewhere and get some shut-eye for the night? Talk about it tomorrow?” I suggested. A dull ache throbbed along my shoulder blades, and I realized I’d been hunched over the entire ride. I rolled my shoulders back and rubbed my sore neck.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after everything I learned tonight.”

“Still gotta try. So, where are we going?”

“Back to my place, I guess. I can drop you off along the way.”

I still hadn’t found a place to live yet, so I figured another lie wouldn’t hurt. “I…actually got evicted two days ago.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Any chance I could stay at—”

“Definitely not!”

“I’m not—”

“Where have you been staying since you got kicked out?”

“In a park.” I shrugged it off, as if it was no big deal.

“You mean you’ve been living on the streets?” Cally asked, bewildered.

“Nothing wrong with sleeping under the stars.”

“It’s unsanitary. Not to mention illegal, to sleep in a public park.”

I shrugged again. “Your dad might have called the cops on me already. They’re probably looking for me everywhere. If you—”

“He didn’t call the cops. Yet.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m pretty sure he hasn’t. He’s launching a new type of flame-resistant fabric in two weeks. It’s supposed to be the next Nomex or Kevlar, which means mega bucks. No way he’d invite that kind of bad publicity so close to the product launch.”

“But, I’m on parole and I threatened his daughter’s life. And trespassed on his property.”

“You sound like you want to get arrested.” Cally wore a glimmer of a smile on her face. “I can call 911 right now if you like.”

“No thanks.”

“That’s what I thought.”

A few minutes later, we slowed down as we approached Northbridge’s city limits. Three police cruisers blocked off the road ahead, red and blue lights flashing against the inky sky.

“Thought you said your dad wouldn’t want the bad press.”

“They might not be looking for you. Keep your cool.”

“And what if they are?” My fingers dug into the leather seats, sweaty palms leaving an imprint.

“If they are, it’s too late for us anyway. We can’t do a U-turn now and drive off. It’d look suspicious as hell.”

“I can sneak out—”

“Just sit your ass down and let me do the talking.”

I liked Cally’s bossy voice. But I wasn’t sure if it’d be enough to keep me out of jail. If I went back to Maxfield, I wasn’t sure I would come out alive. The first half of my sentence had broken my spirit. The second half, my body. Prison destroyed me. I’d rather put a bullet in my brain than go back.

As we inched toward the parked cruisers, I felt sweat soak through my t-shirt. I’d taken off the bartender uniform a while back, which had been irritating the hell out of me. “Cally.”

“If they ask, you’re my out-of-town cousin.” Cally lowered the driver’s side windows. “Evening, officers. Oh, Nathan, how are you?”

“Evening, Ms. Rayner.” Nathan, a middle-aged man, tipped his cap at Cally. Then, he bent down and rested a hand on the roof of the car. “We’re looking for…someone. A man who violated parole and is potentially dangerous.”

“Seriously?” Cally said. “Wow. Any leads?”

“None so far.” Nathan unfolded a grainy printout of a clean-shaven man with light eyes and pale skin. His dirty blond hair was combed to one side. He didn’t look like a prisoner at all. “Recognize him?”

Cally shook her head. “No, doesn’t look familiar. Sorry I couldn’t be much help.”

Nathan nodded to me. I’d been rigid as a corpse in the passenger seat, looking straight ahead. “How about your friend there?”

“I don’t think so. Ry, have you seen this man?”

My neck bent almost robotically until I looked past Cally, out her window, and at the photo. I did recognize the man. I recognized him well. But I shook my head instead and mumbled a quick no.

A beat.

I thought the cop would ask us to step out of the vehicle. After all, I was sweating bullets and looked guilty as hell.

Another beat.

Nathan scribbled something onto a slip of paper, folded it, and handed it to Cally. “Have a good night, Ms. Rayner.”

Cally took the slip of paper between her index and middle fingers and eased the accelerator. Once we were several blocks away from the police blockade, Cally pulled over outside a restaurant and cut the engine. Then, she pressed her forehead to the steering wheel and began taking deep breaths.

I rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Cally shrugged me off. “Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry. I—What’s going on, Cally?”

“That photo. The man they’re looking for…”

“Yes?”

“It’s my ex. Anthony. The one who’s been stalking me.”