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The man who loves me, not the man who murdered George.
My parents don’t know about that last part—at least I hope they don’t—but they still hate Peter for keeping me away from them for so long. They think he’s as dangerous as the FBI say, and it makes me sick to think how upset they’ll be when Peter steals me away again.
Still, I can’t stop myself from wanting it.
From wanting him and everything he is.
“I’m just not ready, Mom,” I tell her and get up to pour myself more coffee. “Please understand. I’m still in love with Peter, and when it’s all resolved, he will be back. You’ll see.”
And with that, I change the topic, launching into a story about my latest performance with my band.
It’s better than continuing to lie. Nothing will ever be resolved because there is no misunderstanding.
Peter is a criminal, and when he returns, it will be to take me with him.
To take me away for good.
36
Peter
I spend the night in the shed where Esguerra keeps his prisoners, with one ankle chained to the metal ring in the middle of the floor.
“Just a precaution,” Kent explained when the guards locked the chain in place. “Not that we don’t trust you…”
“Right.” The chain is about two meters long, which means I can lie down on the cot the guards dragged into the shed. So all in all, it’s not that bad. I’d obviously rather not be chained, but considering what I just saw Esguerra do to the pediatrician, I’m not complaining.
It’ll take a while to get the woman’s screams out of my mind.
She cracked instantly, pretty much as soon as the Esguerras, accompanied by me and the guards, entered her room. I don’t know what she expected—to win brownie points for her honesty?—but she admitted her guilt right away, profusely apologizing to both Esguerra and his wife, swearing that she meant no real harm, that she didn’t really know them or Lizzie when she took the bribe.
It’s like she thought that once she confessed, all would be forgiven and forgotten, that being fired without a reference was the worst that could happen to her.
Maybe because I watched Esguerra literally fillet the idiot when Nora left to feed the baby, or maybe because I’m so close to my goal, but my sleep is again restless, filled with nightmares. Twice, I dream of finding my son’s body in a pile of corpses, and at least twice more, that body turns out to be Sara’s.
Still, by morning, I’m bleary-eyed but cautiously optimistic. The fact that I’m still alive is encouraging—a sign that Esguerra might stick to his side of the bargain. There are no guarantees, of course, but I suspect Nora has a fair amount of sway with her husband these days—plus, he owes me for the pediatrician.
In any case, I’m not surprised when Esguerra and Kent show up together to unchain me.
“What’s your plan?” Esguerra asks as Kent unlocks the manacle around my ankle. “How are you going to get to him? You realize that the moment you show up without Nora and the baby in tow, he’ll know you double-crossed him. That, or you failed—either way, he won’t be pleased.”
I take a deep breath. Here comes another tricky part. “Yes. I’ve considered that. And that’s why I need to borrow your wife for this part of the operation. She’ll be in no—”
“Absolutely not.” Esguerra’s jaw muscles twitch. “Nora is not stepping a foot off this compound.”
Disappointing but not unexpected. “Okay, then do you think you can find somebody who looks like Nora? At least a little bit?”
Esguerra frowns, and I sense he’s about to say no when Kent says, “There’s no one on the estate, but I can have the guards scour the nearby settlements for a potential candidate. It shouldn’t be that hard to find a dark-haired girl about Nora’s size. Her coloring is not exactly unusual in these parts.”
That’s true. If we needed a body double for Kent’s blond, blue-eyed wife, we’d be in trouble, but Nora is part Mexican, with dark eyes and a tan complexion. “You might want to look for someone really young,” I suggest. “Maybe a schoolgirl of some kind, to match Nora’s build. Like I started to tell you, she won’t be in any danger—I just need Novak to find out that I got off the plane with a woman resembling Nora and her infant in tow. A doll will do for the latter; the girl will just need to keep it wrapped up tight.”
Kent looks at Esguerra, and he nods. “Do it. And if possible, find an infant as well—we don’t want this to fall apart over a doll.”
I open my mouth to refuse, but then I decide against it.
I didn’t lie about the lack of danger to “Nora,” so we might as well use an actual child.
