Page 64 of Toxic

“He’s gonna do to me what he did to Steve?” Her voice was weak, that of a child’s. She gulped. “Kill me?”

His heart broke again.

“Not if I have anything to do with it. Not gonna happen, sweetie.”

She was quiet for a long while, and he gave her time to absorb everything. After a while, he spoke. “I think we need to get out of here.”

“You mean hide?”

“Yes. Hide. Go to ground. Run for cover.” He moved a couple steps closer. “I hate that he can force us from our own home, but we can’t be too careful. He knows what we know. And that letter? It’s a confession of murder. And a threat on your life. He realizes that too.”

“We should give it to the police.”

“Of course. We will, but on our way out of town.”

“Where will we go?”

Connor hesitated. Trey had proved himself adept at hacking online sites. Who knew he didn’t have bugs set up? Cameras. He could be listening to them right now.

Connor motioned for her to scoot over to the other side of the bed and he sat on the edge. “Hand me your phone.”

When she did, he turned it on airplane mode, believing it would be less traceable. When they actually left, they’d turn their phones off and make sure they were reliably silenced. He brought up the notes app and starting laying out what he thought would be their safest course.

His agent, Ricia, had a summer house in Enumclaw, a small community about an hour from Seattle in the Cascade Mountains. It was remote, in the middle of nowhere. Once upon a time, the property had had a full stable of Tennessee Walker horses, but now, it was quiet. Ricia had made it clear Connor was welcome to it anytime because she rarely used it herself. “It’s too damn far from Brooklyn. I never get the chance to head out there. Someday, when I retire, it’ll be waiting.”

He was counting on her not using it right now. Odds were in their favor.

He typed out that they were headed to a mountain cabin. He didn’t say where or how he was connected to it, although he figured Miranda would know. Even with airplane mode, he didn’t trust these devices. He’d heard of apps that could be secretly installed on a phone that would give the user access to texts and other messages. He couldn’t afford to take even the slightest chance.

The last words he typed:Get yourself ready. We’ll leave in the morning after breakfast.

That wasn’t the plan at all, and he hoped his wink and shake of his head made that clear. No, as soon as they could throw a few things in bags, they’d head out, regardless of the dark and the rain.

At least traffic would be light.

As Connor went to his own room to grab some toiletries, his laptop, and clothes for the next few days, lightning streaked across the sky once more and a peal of thunder followed so loud it took his breath away.

The thunder was so deafening it felt like it shook the floor beneath him.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

THEY’D MADE ITto the cabin, turned lights on, dropped their stuff off in respective bedrooms, and settled in comfortable leather armchairs next to the wood-burning stove in the great room. Connor turned on the radio, a little turquoise box on the kitchen counter that reminded him of his childhood.

That was when they got news of the earthquake.

“A 6.1 earthquake on the Richter scale awakened Seattle early this morning.” The NPR reporter’s voice soberly delivered the news. “For most of the city, damage was minor, and most residents didn’t even wake when the trembling began and ended, all in the space of a few seconds.”

“Thank god for that,” Miranda said. “Still, it feels weirdly like the apocalypse.” She took a bite of one of the Kind bars Connor had picked up at a Starbucks on the way up. The newscaster’s voice droned on, and he wished he had heard more because a radio report couldn’t be rewound.

“Right.” Connor was distracted. He didn’t want to talk. Ever since they left last night in the driving rain, he’d had a weird, almost psychic feeling that something bad was about to happen. It wasn’t illogical, given their circumstances, but he was chilled, afraid to let down his guard, even in this relatively safe environment.

He ate his Kind bar and sipped his coffee, knowing that, in about an hour, the station would deliver another news update.

And it did. This time he heard the dreadful news that caused him to sit bolt upright and to regard Miranda with his mouth hanging open, breath caught.

“Oh no,” Miranda moaned.

“We have to go home.” Connor stood.

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