Page 2 of The Perfect Revenge
“We’re good,” he said to the driver, who immediately took off.
Hannah studied the man at the wheel.Likely in his late twenties, with a crewcut and a stern expression, he was wearing a suit jacket.In the passenger seat was another man, also in a suit jacket, who was closer to 35.He looked weathered, and his close-cropped hair had the slightest hints of gray.
“What’s our ETA?”Ryan asked the driver, who was maneuvering through the streets in the same evasive manner that Ryan had adopted in the garage.
“About six minutes.”
“Do I get to know what’s happening now?”Hannah asked.
"In about six minutes," Jessie told her.
***
It only took five.
By the time that they pulled into the driveway of a small cottage house in nearby Carthay Square, Hannah was starting to feel slightly nauseated from all the sudden sharp turns and unexpected lane changes.The driver shot forward into the open garage, which was barely large enough to hold one vehicle.
“Wait until the door closes to get out,” instructed the older man in the passenger seat.
“So are these guys private security or law enforcement?”Hannah asked her sister.
“What do you think?”
Hannah looked at the men again, this time more closely.
“Clean-shaven.Short haircuts.Nondescript suits.Feels like the requirements of a government gig.I’m guessing FBI?”
“Close,” Ryan said.“U.S.Marshals.”
“You can exit the vehicle now,” the Marshal in the passenger seat said once the garage door closed, doing so himself.
They got out and headed for the door to the house.The passenger seat Marshal opened it and stepped inside.Hannah was about to do the same when Jessie put a hand on her shoulder.
She looked at her sister, who, at five foot ten, was a mere inch taller than her.They shared the same green eyes, a gift from the now-dead serial killer who was father to them both.But while Hannah's hair was long and blonde, Jessie's was shoulder-length and brown.
Over a decade separated them.But Jessie, despite the horrors she’d encountered, looked younger than her 32 years.And Hannah, nineteen, could pass for her mid-twenties.They’d even occasionally been mistaken for fraternal twins.Right now, Jessie was frowning.
“Before we go in there, I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.”Hannah didn’t get nervous the way most people did.Even so, she felt the slightest hint of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.
“You’ve got to let me get through this before you say anything, okay?”
“Okay.”The pit grew slightly.
“I’m sure you remember six weeks ago when Finn Anderton was moved out of the hospital.”
“Of course.”
It was a silly question considering that the night was burned in Hannah’s brain.After her college classmate, friend, and almost more was stabbed repeatedly in a campus parking lot and almost died, he was transferred to the hospital, where he lay unconscious for nearly a month.She’d spent most evenings there, sometimes in his room, the waiting area in the hall, or in the cafeteria downstairs.
She was in that last location, napping at a cafeteria table with her head resting on her folded hands, when Finn had been secreted away.The security officer guarding his room told her that a group of men who identified themselves as U.S.Marshals had removed him, saying his family wanted him transferred to a hospice to live out his remaining time.
Hannah had always been suspicious of the story.The hospital security footage that she’d hacked had been wiped clean for the stretch of time when Finn was moved.And Hannah’s subsequent attempts to follow the family from their house in the hopes that they might lead her to the hospice proved fruitless.
In fact, now that she thought about it, they'd used the same technique that Ryan had employed tonight: parking in a covered lot and disappearing into a mall or grocery store.Often, they wouldn't return for hours.She had suspected something fishy was going on, but was now convinced that Marshals had been giving the family rides to see Finn.
“Is he here?”she demanded of her sister.
