usually did when they were busy.
Dylan’s private office was bigger than a cubicle but far smaller than that of his boss or the other senior partners. He paused in the doorway, taking care to avoid attracting undue attention, then sidled through and quietly shut the door behind him.
Nothing seemed to have been disturbed until he crossed to a filing cabinet and opened it. Everything pertaining to the adoptions the police had asked about had been removed. It hardly mattered that the files were gone, however, because it wasn’t the actual paper copies the police needed, it was the private background information they contained. That, he could provide.
Going quickly to the golfing trophies atop his bookcase, Dylan unscrewed the base of one of them and withdrew a USB flash drive from a hollow space. His hands were shaking so badly he had trouble reassembling the award properly but he managed to cobble it together enough to withstand a cursory inspection.
Pocketing the drive, he wheeled and headed for the door. All he could think of was getting out of there ASAP.
He’d almost reached the elevator when he heard someone shout a gruff, “Hey!”
The doors slid open with a whoosh. Ignoring the urgent-sounding summons, Dylan stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby.
His last glimpse through the closing doors was of a uniformed security guard. The man had a hand on the butt of his holstered gun and was hurrying toward him.
It didn’t matter why the guard was alerted or who might have questioned his presence. All Dylan could think of was escaping. He punched other buttons, hoping he hadn’t been too late to override his original selection.
Slowing, then coming to a smooth stop, the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. The number two was still lit on the panel, so Dylan paused rather than disembark on three. A normal person who was being chased would get off as soon as possible and take to the stairs. Logically, so would the guard who had missed the elevator. Therefore, he had to think of some other way to elude his pursuer.
By the time Dylan reached the second floor the answer had come to him. There was a back entrance to the building’s barber shop with a stairway leading to and from the street. It was meant for tenants only, particularly for attorneys who wanted to avoid lurking reporters and other nuisances. This time, it would be his escape route.
He pounded down the concrete steps and burst out onto the busy sidewalk, quickly moving away. Made it!
When he thought about delivering the flash drive, however, he realized he had inadvertently ditched his covert police escort when he’d fled from the guard. There was no way he dared backtrack at this point. Worse, he looked every bit the professional man that he was. If someone from Munders and Moore really was after him it would be hard to hide. Not only were the police going to be looking for him soon, lots of people around there knew him on sight, too.
Reaching for his wallet, he wished the police had seen fit to return his cell phone so he could at least call for help. He ducked into a drugstore to buy sunglasses and whatever else he could find that would alter his appearance. He was paying for the glasses and waiting for the clerk to cut off the tag when he spied the answer to his unspoken prayers.
A young man wearing a tattered red St. Louis Cardinals jacket and cap stepped up behind him at the register with a bottle of soda in hand.
“A hundred bucks for the jacket,” Dylan said, flashing a bill as proof and shucking his navy-blue blazer.
The youth began to grin. “Twenty more gets you my hat, too.”
“Done.” Dylan handed over the money as well as his own expensive coat and tie. “Here. Take these. I won’t need them.”
“How about my shoes?” the guy asked.
Dylan ignored him and told the salesclerk, “Keep the change,” donning the silky red jacket as he raced for the door. By the time he was outside he had put on the sunglasses and pulled the bill of the cap low over his forehead.
Now what? He knew he should immediately hail a cab and return to the authorities so they wouldn’t think he was trying to pull a fast one and get away from them.
Yes, he would go back. Soon. But there was something even more important to do first. He had to talk to Grace in person. To explain why he’d done what he’d done—and how he was determined to make amends. Somehow.
Granted, it probably wouldn’t make any difference to her at this point, particularly because he’d have to tell her he’d been in police custody, as well. Yet he desperately wanted her to know how penitent he was and that he was already aiding the authorities as best as he could.
That kind of truth had to be conveyed face-to-face, Dylan decided. There was no way he could ever convince Grace of his change of heart over the phone. Even looking straight into her eyes was no guarantee of success. But he had to try. He simply had to. Her opinion of him mattered more than anyone else’s and if he waited until after he’d turned over the flash drive he might not get that chance to speak with her privately.
Lacking an available taxi, he boarded a bus and took a seat. Just as the driver was pulling away from the curb, several more security guards burst from his office building and gathered on the sidewalk, talking into handheld radios and gesturing as if making plans for his capture. They might not know why he’d visited the office but they certainly seemed upset about it, meaning that someone must have an idea what he was after, despite not being aware of his secret files.
Dylan lowered his head to hide beneath the bill of the cap and used his hand to block the rest of his face.
His kids would be getting out of school soon and Grace would take Brandon with her to pick up Kyle and Beth. It was the only time he could be certain of catching her away from home—and away from the authorities who probably already had the family home under surveillance since he’d just given them the slip.
Gripping the back of the seat in front of him he watched the downtown pass and the suburbs begin. Almost there. Almost to his Gracie.
The thought of her pet name sobered him even further. He’d tried to be a good husband, yet his efforts had never seemed sufficient. It was just like when he was growing up. There was never enough of anything. Dylan had vowed that that would never happen to his family and it had not.
What about now? His jaw clenched. Now, his greatest desire was to stay out of jail—and to see that his loved ones were safe and well cared for. Even if his efforts to make amends were going to place him in jeopardy, he was certain his family would be safe. After all, he was no longer living at home or taking an active part in their daily lives so there was no reason for anyone to bother them, other than perhaps the police.
If he hadn’t been positive that God had given up on him long ago, he might even have closed his eyes and prayed for divine help. It was hopelessness, and well-deserved guilt, that stopped him.
* * *
Grace parked in the shade across from the school and released her three-year-old from his booster seat. His pudgy little arms encircled her neck and he hugged her tightly, inadvertently pulling her long red hair as she lifted him.
“Ouch,” Grace said with a smile and a toss of her head. “Easy, big boy.”
“I love you, Mommy.”
“I
