The Christmas tree had been Arden DeMarco’s undoing.
Or, to be more accurate, the decorations on it had.
Not that accuracy mattered. What mattered was that she had to leave. Quickly.
She shoved her sweatshirt into her backpack, the scent of Tide detergent and lavender fabric softener reminding her of her childhood home. She’d hoped to be there for Christmas, reveling in the beautiful predictability of Christmas Eve service, ham dinner, new pajamas worn on Christmas morning.
She was twenty-five years old and she still loved those things.
Unfortunately, in this instance her nostalgia had been her downfall.
She sighed.
What was done was done. For twelve days she’d been safe in this secluded cottage just outside of Lubec, Maine. Now she wasn’t.
She hadn’t planned to leave, but staying was no longer an option. She’d have to find another place to go to ground. With a quick look around the room, Arden was satisfied she was leaving nothing important behind. No clues as to what she’d been working on, where she planned to go or what her next step would be.
Zipping her pack, she gave the surveillance monitors one more glance.
All clear.
For now. But the odds weren’t in her favor.
Grabbing the wearable pet carrier from the hook behind the door that separated the kitchen from the cozy living room, she fastened it around her chest.
“Sebastian? Time to go,” she called.
As was Sebastian’s way, he didn’t answer.
She crossed the room to check his favorite spot, knelt down and peered under the sparsely decorated Christmas tree. Sure enough, he was there, batting at a red bulb.
“Did you learn nothing from the tinsel incident?” she muttered.
He looked at her, blinking large blue eyes and meowing as she scooped him up and placed him in the carrier. Where most cats would have yowled and struggled, he settled in without a fuss, the tips of his dark brown ears barely visible as she pulled the drawstring on the carrier to secure him inside. Like Arden, he was quirky. It was one of the reasons she’d adopted him.
He purred happily against her chest. Poor guy had no idea that he’d brought danger down on their heads.
She’d been so careful when she’d dropped off the grid. Covered all the bases: cash transactions only, no contact with family, prepaid cell phone for emergencies only. There’d been no way anyone could trace her movements.
Or so she’d thought.
Unfortunately, in her panic, she’d forgotten about Sebastian’s microchip. Truth be told, if Sebastian hadn’t eaten his body weight in tinsel, she’d still be none the wiser. Okay. It hadn’t been that much tinsel. After administering an ultrasound, the vet had assured Arden that the cat would be just fine. She’d been happy and relieved until the vet had called an hour ago to check on Sebastian and used Arden’s real name.
A name Arden hadn’t used in almost two weeks. They’d obviously scanned Sebastian for a microchip and now her assumed alias and the cottage address were linked to Arden’s true identity, through the PetID database.
The jig was up. She needed to leave. If she managed to escape with her life, she’d never ever hang tinsel again.
A powerful gust of wind whipped in from the ocean, drawing her attention to the window. The sun had set an hour ago, and the full moon should have been rising above the ocean. Clouds covered it, light gray against the dark horizon. Below, the beach lay empty. No lights or bonfires. No people with flashlights digging for clams. This wasn’t the time of year for vacationers. That had played to Arden’s advantage. Now she felt vulnerable.
She tried to tell herself it was good that she was leaving, but she’d wanted to stay. A quiet cottage far away from anyone who knew her had been the perfect place to hide.
The wind buffeted the cottage’s shake siding and howled beneath the eaves, the eerie sound spurring her to hurry. She pulled on her coat, partially zipping it up over Sebastian. He purred even more loudly.
Happy cat.
Unhappy human companion.
Arden shoved gloves into her pockets and yanked a knit cap over her ears. This was it. Time to go. She grabbed her pack, flipped off the lights and dropped the house keys on the desk next to a note about the security system she’d regrettably be leaving behind. State-of-the-art. Expensive. She’d probably need it again before this was over, but it was too heavy and cumbersome for someone who needed to move quickly.
The perimeter alarm chirped, the warning sending her pulse racing. She turned back to the monitors. Three were clear. The fourth
