Jailbreak

          Shattering the awkward silence, the front door opened, and, seconds later, Graydon burst in with a face as pale as unbuttered popcorn. It told her that the source of the awkwardness—Alexandria’s punishment for having failed her last three social studies tests—would soon seem as insignificant as a single hair plucked from a full head. Graydon fulfilled those expectations, saying, “Nelson’s out.”

           It hit her like a cement truck. “What?” He couldn’t have meant what he’d said. For killing his mother over a disagreement about his job (Pauletta didn’t care to know the specifics, as no beef would justify what he’d done), authorities had put Nelson behind bars, for life, no possibility of parole. They couldn’t have let him slip through their fingers…Could they?

           “Escaped this morning,” Graydon said, and then shot Pauletta a glare that sliced straight to her marrow. “And I can’t find Lili. She’s not at her house—car’s gone—and she’s not answering her phone.”

           A bile tsunami swelled in her throat.

           “The police,” she said. “Did you—“

           “Already talked to them. They’re over there, looking for anything that might give them a clue about where she is.”

           Stupid, she thought. They all knew that he’d taken her, because, after his conviction, she had, for the first and probably only time, cast aside her crippling fear of him and given him the slip. This must have infuriated him, and he probably wanted nothing more than to see her suffer a long, agonizing death. Pauletta imagined her crying, begging him to spare her, saying she was sorry, she’d do anything he wanted, just, please, let her go.

“Mommy, is Lili gonna be okay?” Kaylah demanded, the fear in her eyes piercing Pauletta’s heart.

           “She’ll be fine, honey,” Pauletta said, hating herself for making a promise that she may not prove able to keep. But she couldn’t dwell on that now; she had to think. Where would he take her? Somewhere he considered safe. Somewhere where nosy-bodies wouldn’t snoop on him. Somewhere hidden, somewhere dark, the perfect place for a traitor to die. She thought of one possibility: Liliana had mentioned, once, that he’d inherited a cabin by Lake Cecilia from his late grandfather. But she, or anyone else, could probably easily find its address on the internet, so such a move would reflect stupidity on his part…Unless, of course, he thought himself and Liliana the only people who knew about it. For lack of a better option, she thought it worth a try.

That left only one question: How should she go about it? Should she tell the police? That would maximize her safety, but what about Liliana? Though extensively trained, law enforcement did tend to operate in a heavy-handed manner, which could easily spell trouble for those dealing with a man like Nelson—a man with nothing to lose. If, instead, she went in alone, she would at least have stealth on her side. Plus, she could always call for backup at the cabin if she thought it best for the situation.

           As ready as possible to put the plan into action, she turned to Graydon. “Watch the girls, will you, Gray?”

           Graydon’s lips curled downward. “You can’t seriously be planning to go look for her—you could get yourself killed.”

           “I won’t get myself killed,” she said. Another promise she didn’t know whether she could keep. Again, though, she didn’t dwell, instead rising and heading to the butcher block, where she grabbed the biggest knife.

           Graydon grew even paler. “Mom. Seriously. The police are already—“

           “The police don’t know her, or Nelson, like I do.” She made a beeline for the door, calling over her shoulder, over Graydon’s protests, “Watch them, Graydon.” She left and slammed the door on still more pleas.

           Thinking her son liable to come out and try to threaten her into aborting the mission if given the opportunity, she drove to a bar and parked there while she looked up the information she sought. Sure enough, a few flicks of the fingers yielded the address. She plugged it into the GPS and got going.

           The road blurred, the trees beside it seeming to stoop and gawk at her like a heartless crowd one gravely injured. She pumped the gas, sweaty palms gripping the wheel so tightly that their knuckles blanched. What if, she asked herself, he hadn’t taken her there? Or what if, even if he had, she’d come too late? In either case, she would have failed in her duty to protect her. How would she ever forgive herself?

           How could she bear to lose her?

           She still hadn’t answered those questions by the time she entered the Gretta’s Mill, a dirt road dotted by log cabins on sprawling, overgrown yards, the lake a foggy gray ribbon peeking out from between those on the northern side. Tires crackling, she slowed to a crawl, for she had to squint to make out the faded addresses painted on rusty mailboxes. Finally, she found 214. It looked innocent enough: a log cabin very much like the others, its porch offering a splintering rocking chair, darkness lacquered to the panes of the windows on either side of the boysenberry-red door. No vehicle sat in the driveway, but the place did have a one-car garage, closed, so she could not yet declare this hopeless. She’d park around the block—couldn’t afford to alert him of her presence—sneak through the backyard, and check the house itself.

           When she rounded the corner, however, she met a sight that ripped her heart from her chest. A blue Toyota—Liliana’s, the license plate confirmed—sat at the curb across the road. Dizziness battered her, but she fought it long enough to ease her own vehicle to the curb and park. Feeling as if trying to breathe through wet cheesecloth, she opened her door, exited, and propelled herself forward, through the towering pines shielding the house from the road, into the backyard. She saw no one there, but an amber glow illuminated one of the windows. Mouth as dry as gauze, she crept forward.

           The bushes hugging the home’s façade rustled. Like a whack-a-mole, Liliana popped up and beheld her with eyes straining their sockets. In her hands: a gun.

           Pauletta’s knees buckled. “Oh my God, Lili, what’re you—“

           “Shhh,” Liliana hissed, eyes flashing from side to side and then returning to Pauletta. She gestured toward the street. As Pauletta followed her there, her mind scrambled, trying to construct a narrative that would make sense of this. Nelson had obtained a gun—it didn’t matter how—broken into Liliana’s house, abducted Liliana at gunpoint. He’d stolen her car. Brought her here, parking on the next street to avoid suspicion, as he’d known that the police would go looking for the vehicle. Brought her inside, where she’d somehow managed to get the gun away from him and escape.

           But then, why hide in the bushes? Why not get as far away as she could, as fast as she could? Why not make him give her her car keys and drive away?

           They reached the car, and Liliana proved that, indeed, something strange was going on here by reaching into her pocket and pulling out her keys. “Get in,” she ordered, pressing the button to unlock it.

           They both did so and shut the doors. Liliana locked them.

           A million questions wrestled in Pauletta’s throat, but first things first. “Drive,” she ordered. “I’m calling the police.”

           “No,” Liliana said, face going as white as a marshmallow. “You can’t. Do you know what kind of trouble I’d be in?”

           “Why would you be in trouble?”

           Liliana’s gaze drifted upward, as if she intended to ask the sky for a good way to answer the question. Pauletta stared at her, too confused to remember that they still hadn’t put much distance between themselves and their aggressor, too impatient to give her more than a moment before prompting, “What the hell’s going on here, Lili?”

           Liliana looked back at her, eyes flashing. “You don’t understand. What I’ve been through with him…I thought I’d be safe.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes as a humorless smirk spread her lips. “But those bozos couldn’t even give me that.”

           “What’re you talking about?”

           Liliana’s expression firmed, glare penetrating straight to Pauletta’s skull. “I came here to end it—the only way there was left to end it.”

           Stiffness rolled over Pauletta, and she looked at her as if doing so for the first time, trying to memorize every contour and crevice, as if she hadn’t had the task accomplished since the day of her birth. It all remained the same, and, yet, she sensed something entirely different from what she’d expected behind it. This was not the Liliana she knew. But, given the only possible time for the change, she should have known her by now.

           She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “All right,” she said. “All right. Let’s go home.”