at the open bay door in back. It had taken all the strength he had to climb from the vehicle and pull out the first box. With each one he passed to the volunteer, he’d felt as if he was handing over a piece of his heart.
Now it was done, and several suitcases holding his and Liam’s possessions occupied the space behind the back seat. He’d packed everything he could think of. Anything he’d forgotten, he’d buy in Murphy.
The investigation was far from complete. Cops had viewed the security footage. Besides the knit masks, the intruders had worn gloves, so the likelihood of recovering prints was nil.
As he drove through the subdivision’s exit gate, some of the tension flowed out of him. In two more hours, he’d be pulling up the drive and stopping in front of the log home with its soaring windows and steeply pitched roof.
Warm, cozy and filled with love, it had always held a special place in his heart. He and Mandy had purchased it six years earlier for a weekend getaway and built so many memories.
Four years ago, he and his pregnant wife had decided Murphy was a perfect place to raise children, and they’d made the move. Until the district attorney’s office had lured him back.
Now he was going home.
After several turns, he accelerated up the I-285 ramp. The black Suburban was right behind him, Jasmine at the wheel. Dark sunglasses shielded her eyes. But he didn’t need to see them to know she was watching traffic in more than a defensive-driving sense.
He craned his neck to glance at his son in the rearview mirror. As expected, he was awake, left arm clutching his plush rabbit, right thumb in his mouth. Another change Colton had noticed. As Liam’s speech had gotten less, soon stopping completely, his thumb sucking had gone from only when sleeping to almost all the time. Colton would have to address it eventually, but certainly not now.
He moved into the left lane and accelerated. Varying his speed would make it harder for someone to follow him, at least without Jasmine noticing. He checked his mirrors. On a Saturday morning, traffic was moderate. The Suburban was some distance back, traveling in the right lane. He signaled and prepared to merge onto I-75. As he decreased his speed, several vehicles went around him. He moved into the far-right lane and exited 285 in front of a slow-moving dump truck.
After several miles, he picked up speed again. Soon he’d be on 575, headed toward Murphy. An unexpected sense of anticipation wove through him.
He’d made this move twice before. Each time, it had represented a fresh start, and he’d found freedom, happiness, a sense of belonging.
The first time, he’d been fifteen, leaving behind years in foster care to become part of a real family. The second time, he’d been filled with excitement, ready to start his own family.
This would be a new start also, one he’d never hoped to make. He and Liam, facing an uncertain future, their family unit shattered. Hoping to stay hidden from someone who might want them dead.
The phone’s ringtone cut across his thoughts. It was Jasmine.
“Don’t take the 575 exit. I think you have a tail.”
His pulse picked up speed, and an instant sheet of moisture coated his palms. “Which vehicle?”
“The silver Mustang.”
He looked in his rearview mirror. There it was, one lane to his left, about five cars back. “Can you slow down, get a tag number?”
“I’ve tried. I think he knows I’m with you. Whenever I drop back, he does, too. Won’t give me an opportunity to read his tag.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Ernest Barrett Parkway is the next exit. Easy off, easy on.”
After he disconnected the call, Jasmine slowed down so much he almost lost sight of her. Several cars moved between them. The Mustang didn’t.
As he approached 575, the GPS told him to exit. He ignored it. Jasmine was in charge and he had no problem letting her call the shots.
After he exited I-75, the light ahead was red. He eased to a stop, then dialed her back. “Did our friend follow?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he’s behind the box truck.”
He counted the vehicles lined up in his rearview mirror. In their lane, three waited between him and Jasmine, two more between her and the box truck. Likely every one of them would turn left on Ernest Barrett. If the Mustang followed him and Jasmine back onto 75, they’d know for sure.
The light changed, and he moved forward. As he made his way up the on-ramp, two vehicles followed from Ernest Barrett, a semitruck blocking any farther view.
He completed his merge and touched the phone, still clipped into the dash mount. Jasmine’s rang four times, then went to voice mail.
Maybe she was calling the police, which meant someone was following them. A sense of protectiveness gripped him, an urge to wrap Liam in his arms so tightly no one could pry him loose.
Colton lifted his chin until the rearview mirror framed his son’s face. Sad eyes looked back at him. Brown, just like his mother’s. Liam had gotten Mandy’s eyes and Colton’s blond hair.
When his phone rang a few minutes later, he swiped the screen, heart racing while he waited for Jasmine’s update.
“Sorry, I was on the phone with 911 when you called. He followed us back onto the interstate, hanging back like before. But he knew we were onto him. He got off on Chastain Road, no signal, just whipped it over. The police know to look for the car there, but I’m not holding out high hopes.”
He wasn’t, either. “What now? Exit, then head back south to pick up 575?”
“Not knowing where that Mustang is, I say we continue north and take 411 near Cartersville. It might be a little out of the way, but it’s better than running across those guys again.”
The next two hours were uneventful. When he finally pulled onto Hilltop Road, several miles southwest of town, all of nature seemed to wrap him in a comforting embrace. He was home. The quaintness, the low crime rate, the small-town atmosphere, the feeling of having stepped back into a safer, slower, less complicated time—Murphy was still a great place to raise a child.
He stayed left where the road forked and wound his way upward. He hadn’t been back since Mandy died. For weeks, he’d stumbled around in a grief-induced fog, somehow managing after a two-week bereavement leave to return to his duties and care for Liam when he wasn’t working.
A week later, he’d gotten word that Mandy’s father had had a heart attack. Though he’d survived, it was going to be a long road to recovery. Having just lost their only child, they’d had no one to turn to.
So Colton had taken a leave of absence, loaded up Liam and headed to Montana. He wasn’t sure who had benefited the most from his trip out West. He’d gone to help his in-laws. But in those quiet moments, sitting on the back deck as the sun sank behind the mountains and daylight turned to dusk, then darkness, God had ministered to him. Little by little the frayed pieces of his heart had begun to heal.
Near the top of the hill, he pulled into a gravel drive.
