Page 31 of Taking Root

However, Eve called her to McDermitt’s to discuss exit strategy, which meant the moment they sighted Kyle Peterson in the city limits, she’d have to follow protocol and bid this city goodbye.

No more stops by the Gin Mill.

No more dishing at work with Cam.

No more Adrian Dukas. And if that didn’t just slam into her guts like a sack of concrete.

Danny stepped in front of McDermitt’s, chatter flowing from inside the crowded pub. This busy sort of environment created the perfect meeting place, and more than one of the Feds would be making an appearance tonight. The increased number had to do with her father—he’d been a black mark on their records for far too long.

She opened the door, greeted by the scent of salty fries and juicy burgers. Along a walnut bar counter, dozens of pints in varying shades of brown and amber lined up from the crowds of patrons loitering around. This chaos meant they could talk without anyone listening in on their conversation. Danny wandered past the exposed brick columns, weaving her way around servers dashing from table to table while some of the bar crowd spilled onto the floor.

Eve sat in one of the interior booths alongside Dave, a Fed she’d met a few times in the past. Her long-time handler had sliced off her dark locks into a short pixie cut since the last time they’d met, and even though she wore a slouchy, casual olive dress and black pumps, her rigid stance and serious expression always screamed Fed. Dave blended better with a baseball cap and beat-up tee that highlighted his lean frame, looking more at ease than Eve.

Dave waved, offering a big grin that went a slight way to settling Danny’s nerves, even with their impending discussion. Out of all the Feds she’d met, Dave had been the friendliest, but that didn’t mean he should be underestimated—the man could keep a casual smile plastered on his face while firing round after round into his targets.

Danny tipped two fingers in a salute as she slid into the opposite side of the booth. “Welcome to Charleston,” she said to Dave as he passed her over a pint of lager. Not her preference, but she wouldn’t turn down the free drink.

“I’ve already been running surveillance on the outskirts of the town for a couple of weeks now,” Dave responded. “Cute place.”

“I like to think so,” Danny emphasized as she pursed her lips, the stubbornness rising to her chin without trying.

“You’re best off getting those last visits to places in now,” Eve said, tapping the side of her wine glass with a manicured nail, this time a deep plum. Her dark eyes softened. “I know you’d like to stay in one place for a bit longer, but once we spot your father in town, it’s no longer safe for you to be here. You might’ve been the bait to bring him down this way, but you’re needed as witness to the original crimes back then. We can’t risk him turning you into another victim.”

Danny’s throat tightened, and white noise buzzed in her head. No, no, no. She refused to return to that night.

The bookcase wasn’t in its normal place, and the outline of a door stood out, one she’d never seen before.

Curiosity had always been her downfall.

The stench that slammed into her upon entering the darkness made her gag. Coppery and raw mixed with the sort of rot that assaulted her nostrils. She choked back the bile in her throat as she grabbed her phone, turning the flashlight app on.

At once, she wished she hadn’t.

For too long, she’d pretended what hung from the hooks in the secret room had been dead animals, like a butcher’s shop. The fragile glaze she applied to the surface kept her from teetering over the edge into a paralyzing breakdown one too many times. The stench, the sights, those would forever be engraved in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to scrub them out.

She’d staggered back, unable to take in the enormity of the room or the weight of what it meant. The gleam of exposed bone, flesh battered so hard the skin was a patchwork of purples and blues. Eyes wide open, frozen in an unending scream. Bodies hung across the room, one, seven, maybe even a dozen. The table stretched along the far wall, and a line of gleaming instruments splayed out across a clean white cloth. Deadly things with vicious teeth.

In the moment, Danny hadn’t even questioned whose room this was. Her father had always appeared normal to the point of dull as paste, but his constant absences always made her wonder. And no amount of smiling could diminish the flatness in his gaze, how nothing stirred beneath the surface. Ever.

Her limbs began to shake, and her mind shut down. Only one command slammed into her: Run.

That day she’d run and run and run until she’d burst into Hanahan’s police precinct and they’d pried the words out of her. By the time the cops burst into her house, Kyle Peterson had grabbed his essentials and driven off. In Danny’s haste to escape, she’d left the door to the secret room open and tipped him off. From that day forward, she and Mom were placed in WitSec.

“Danny?” Eve said, the sound snapping her out of her memories. Back then, she was a different person, but that day she buried Sam Peterson, and ever since, she’d become a revolving door of different identities.

“I’m with you,” she said on automatic. “Just starving.” Even though Eve’s stare lingered like she didn’t buy the excuse, her handler flagged down their waitress, and they all placed orders, a bowl of stew for Eve while she and Dave both went with bacon cheeseburgers.

“Here’s the way the next week or so is going to play out,” Dave said, the moment the waitress stepped away. “With your father approaching, any sight of him in Charleston is going to place you in immediate danger. You’re going to need your phone on you at all times.”

“Where was the last sign of him?” Danny asked. They might’ve mentioned it, but with him this close, she stepped to the edge of an ocean threatening to drag her under.

“Florence, about two hours north of here,” Eve said, folding her napkin over and over again. The woman couldn’t sit still for anything, and throughout the years, Danny had grown familiar with watching her fold napkins, crease straws, straighten utensils, or do anything to straighten her surroundings. That’s when Danny knew this had gotten serious.

“I already answer your calls the second I get ’em,” Danny said, tipping the lager back. She wrinkled her nose, not digging the flavor. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is the next time we call, it won’t be for a meet-up or discussion,” Dave explained. “The next time we call, you’ll hop in your car and be driving out of town to a protected destination.”

Danny nodded, even though a scream welled in her throat. After living here for about a month, she’d developed a routine. She loved working out in the sunshine at the Horntree Estate with Cam. She loved being by the sea, catching the salt and brine in the breeze. And she loved every moment she spent by Adrian’s side. But the time had arrived.

Once her handlers’ phone call came in, she’d be hopping in Bella and bidding her life goodbye. No more Sam Peterson and no more Danny Reynolds. Out of every identity she’d assumed, she loved this one the most. Danny Reynolds was the girl who kissed Adrian Dukas and who, for a half second, allowed herself to believe there might’ve been a future there. Danny Reynolds was the first time in a long while she’d let hope in.

Dave passed her a folded note, and she slipped it into her canvas bag. She’d check the address later and let whatever new destination listed slap her in the face. Because no matter where they sent her, it wouldn’t be Charleston. It wouldn’t be home.

“There’s no margin of error for this,” Eve warned. Her handler might be looking out for her, but man, moments like this she hated them both. “If we’re lucky, this might be the week we catch your father.”

Danny had been told that so many times she felt sick. She shrugged, trying to act unaffected. “Or it’ll be another dead body and a new city for Kyle Peterson.”

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