Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Ren felt the tears when they broke, streaking down her face. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
Steve appeared in the doorway. “What’s all the fuss in here?”
Gloria looked up at him. “Ren’s upset that we’re not letting her see that boy anymore.”
“You think that’s what I’m upset about?” Ren said through a watery laugh. “I don’t actually know who either of you are!”
They both turned their eyes on her. “What did you say?” Gloria asked, eyes hawkish.
“I looked in the box in your closet. I was looking for the photo, but there was a lot of stuff about you and Steve in there that I didn’t understand.” She turned her eyes to him. “Is that even your real name?”
His eyes narrowed and he sucked his teeth, looking at Gloria, who held out a steadying hand. “What are you saying, Ren?” she asked.
Ren took a slow, deep breath. “I’m asking whether you’re really my mother.”
Gloria laughed. “Do you hear yourself? Of course I’m your mother.”
“So who are Adam Zielinski and Deborah DeStefano? And when again, exactly, did you marry Chris Koning?”
“How about you get some sleep,” Gloria told her. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Steve took a step into the bedroom and looked out her small window. “I’m telling you, Gloria, we gotta leave tonight.”
Tonight? While they talked, Ren looked around the room, trying to formulate a plan, a voice inside her head whispering the same word over and over: Run.
“We aren’t even close to ready,” Gloria argued. “Even if that boy manages to narrow it down, we’re not easy to find.”
That boy. Edward.
Ren’s pulse rocketed. She filed back through every story she’d told him, every detail she’d given him about the homestead and the little town. Could he figure it out? Could he find her?
Steve shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about this. We gotta go.” He nodded to Ren. “She knows now, and others might, too. What do we do with her?”
Ren’s head snapped up. “Do with me?”
“We take her,” Gloria answered. “No one else knows it’s us but her.”
Gloria’s words sent a wave of nausea rolling through her, and for a few staggering breaths Ren thought she might not be strong enough to process what she meant. No one else knows it’s us but her.
A whistle cut through the sky, followed by a deafening crack that shook the entire cabin. They fell to the ground, each of them covering their head as light spun across all four walls of the small bedroom. When Ren chanced a glance up, the darkness outside had been blown apart, light flashing in intermittent starts and stops.
Gloria rushed to the window as a streak of gold whistled through the sky and exploded in color immediately overhead. More of them came, one after another, explosion after explosion filling the sky with color.
Fireworks.
Steve turned, yelling at Gloria. “You see that? Gloria, they know!”
Before Ren could make sense of anything, she was shoved to the bed, and Gloria loomed over her. “Stay put. Do not test me, Ren.” And then she turned to Steve. “Get the guns. I’ll get the keys.”
They ran out of the room, and Ren looked around frantically, trying to form some sort of plan. Steve had said, They know. Did that mean these fireworks were for her? Her heart screamed his name—Edward—but her mind slapped the fantasy away; he was on the other side of the country. Even if he did figure out where she was, she’d left him—why would he come here?
When a burst of orange and gold erupted in a shot of sound outside, Ren looked out the window and down the front drive, trying to figure out what direction the fireworks were coming from.
But it wasn’t just fireworks. In the distance and around the bend of the long drive were the pulsing, rhythmic whirls of red and blue.
The police were here. It had to be him. It had to be. Who else would know where to find her?
Adrenaline dumped into her veins, a starter-pistol blast jolting her to action. With Gloria and Steve occupied, screaming through the cabin to each other to pack up their guns and clothes and money, Ren gripped the sill and tried to pry the window open.
“Please, please, please,” she whispered, panic rising like an ocean swell in her chest. It didn’t budge. Ren scrambled to her small desk, finding a metal ruler to wedge in the frame and use for leverage. Quickly, she worked it around the edges of the frame before wedging it beneath the bottom, seesawing the ruler up and down. Finally, the sill gave the tiniest bit, groaning with a winter’s worth of stiffness, and Ren winced, listening for the halt of movement in the rest of the cabin. As quietly as possible, Ren worked to get the window open wider, finally giving up when she hoped it would be enough and wedging her body into the narrow opening, pushing her head and shoulders through.