Page 71 of I Will Find You

“No, of course not. I had no idea he was going to escape.”

“So, what, your being up at Briggs was just a wild coincidence?”

“No.”

“Talk to me, Rach.”

Her sister. Her beautiful, pregnant sister. Cheryl had been through such hell. Five years ago, Matthew’s murder had knocked her to her knees, and Rachel never thought that her sister would be able to get up again. To the outside world, Cheryl was moving on. New husband, pregnant, new position. But she wasn’t. Not really. She was trying to build something, something new and strong, but Rachel knew that it was still flimsy and flyaway. Life is fragile at the best of times. The foundation is always shifting beneath our feet.

“Please,” Cheryl said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m trying.”

Her sister looked suddenly small and vulnerable. She was almost cringing, as though waiting for the blow that she knew was coming. Rachel tried to rehearse the words in her head, but they all came out sounding stilted and weird. You could rip this bandage off slowly or quickly, but either way, this was going to hurt.

“I want to show you something.”

“Okay.”

“But I don’t want you to freak out.”

“Seriously?”

Rachel had given the hard copy she’d printed out to David, but she had the amusement-park pic she’d snapped at Irene’s house on her phone. She took one more gulp of the bourbon, closed her eyes, let it warm her. Then she grabbed her phone. She hit the Photos icon and started swiping. Cheryl had sidled up next to her. She was watching over Rachel’s shoulder.

Rachel found the photo and stopped.

“I don’t understand,” Cheryl said. “Who’s this woman and these kids?”

Then Rachel put her thumb and index finger on the boy behind them and zoomed in on his face.

Chapter

21

The FBI surveillance van carrying Max and Sarah sped to a stop in front of Hilde Winslow’s building. Max spotted six cruisers and an ambulance. Sarah was staring at a computer monitor and talking via her earpiece to someone on the phone. She signaled that it was important and for Max to go out on his own. Max nodded as the van’s side door slid open.

An agent Max didn’t know said, “Special Agent Bernstein? The suspect got away.”

“I heard on the radio.”

“The police are in pursuit. They’re confident they’ll catch him.”

Max wasn’t so sure. It was a big city with plenty of nooks and crannies and human beings. It was always easier to vanish when in plain sight. He and Sarah had been watching the attempted capture in the high-tech FBI van, live-streaming four of the pursuing officers’ bodycams as they ascended to the roof.

There was something that bothered him.

“Where’s Hilde Winslow?”

The agent frowned at his notebook. “She calls herself Harriet—”

“Winchester, yeah, I know,” Max said. “Where is she?”

The young agent pointed toward the ambulance. It was open in the back. Hilde Winslow sat up, a blanket wrapped around her like a shawl. She sipped on a juice box through a straw. Max headed over and introduced himself. Hilde Winslow’s eyes were bright and locked in on his. She looked small, wizened, and tougher than an armor-plated armadillo.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Just a little shaken up,” Hilde replied. “They insisted on taking care of me.”

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