town before nightfall. Besides, as soon as our vehicle is a different color, we’ll get lost in the woodwork.”
“It’s too bad we didn’t figure out a way to get a lot more money out of the account Megan set up for us.”
“Stop complaining and make the most of it!” Petey said, squeezing her thigh. “Right now I’d like to pull up to a nice motel with a freezing-cold room, a six-pack of beer on ice and you in my bed.”
“You’ve got a one-track mind, Petey.”
Their whole scheme had been working so well. Megan Maitland had bought into the story that Petey was Connor O’Hara, returned to the family fold, and Janelle the loving mother of their son, Chase. They had her hook, line and sinker—until the real Connor showed up. And if only that blasted Lacy—the kid’s real mother—had cooperated and died after Janelle knocked her on the head and left her in the alley.
“Yeah? Well, I can recall at least one time this week when you couldn’t think about anything else, either, Janelle,” he teased.
“That’s not the point. Chase is with us, remember?”
“Relax. I told you I got enough stuff for him to last until tomorrow. First we get the car camouflaged.”
“I thought it took a long time to do a paint job!”
“Not when you’re on the run. A quick spray is all we need. Keep your eye out for a body shop. Then we’ll get out of here and find us a town where they won’t charge us an arm and a leg for what we need. Once we find ourselves the right pad, we can have some fun and start to plan how to get our hands on the rest of Megan’s money.” He hit his fist against the steering wheel. “Damn that Connor for showing up and ruining our plans!”
“I don’t know, Petey. The family was starting to get real suspicious when I kept stalling about the birth certificate. I just wish we’d had time to load up on the things we needed for Chase before we left Austin.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t need to knock out anybody to get to Chase. I might have done too good a job. Thank God he was at the day care. That was smart of you to ask Megan if you could take him for a walk in the park. Man, she must be kicking herself. I figure we did a first-rate job.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you say we enjoy life for a while now?”
“I don’t see how we can do that when we’re driving around in one of Megan’s cars.”
“In a couple of hours no one’s going to recognize it. We’ll tell the body shop to rip off all the chrome and trim.”
“Let’s paint it a faded dark blue like all the local cars around here. Nothing shiny. Maybe they ought to put on some rust spots just to make it look a little more beat up.”
“Smart thinking, Janelle. Hey—what’s that you’ve got there?”
“A quilting kit. I picked it up at Lana Lord’s baby shop.”
“Why?”
“To prove I was being a good mother. She showed me what to do. Do you know she thought it was real sweet of me to make a quilt for my baby? You should have heard her go on and on about the precious heirloom it would be someday.”
“That’s a laugh. So what are you doing with it now?”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m looking at it because I’m bored!”
He flashed her a knowing glance. “I plan to keep you plenty busy for the next few weeks, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’m talking about while we’re in the car.”
“Then I’ll turn on the radio for you.”
“No! It’ll wake Chase.”
“Janelle, honey, in case you didn’t notice, he’s already making noises and I can’t drive with a howling kid in the car.”
“All right. Don’t get in a panic.” She tossed the kit aside, then undid the seat belt and turned to give Chase a fresh bottle of apple juice from the sack. What a pain this trip was turning out to be.
BETSY STARTED to whimper again. Traci cocked her head to listen. Like Max Jamison had said, as long as Betsy was making any noise at all, Traci should be thankful her daughter hadn’t become unconscious.
“Please,” she urged Chelsea, gripping her hand tighter. “I can tell Betsy’s been responding to you. Try another one of those French songs. Betsy? It’s Mommy! Chelsea’s with me and she’s going to sing some more.”
As the other woman began the tune “Dominique,” Traci marveled at the television reporter who seemed as beautiful on the inside as she looked on the outside. Could this woman who was singing her heart out to Traci’s little girl in that lovely voice be a person capable of betrayal?
I don’t know if I dare trust her. I don’t know. I’m so scared. I’m so tired. Please, God, if You’re there, if You’re listening, tell me what to do. Give me some sign that this woman really wants to help me. Save my baby.
The singing continued, bringing Traci the first comfort she’d felt in days.
You trusted that nice elderly couple when you first got away from Nate, an inner voice whispered.
But this time it was different. Even though the PI had gone for help, he’d once been a police officer and could decide to take matters into his own hands by making Traci go back to her husband under the threat of the law.
She would rather kill herself and her baby than ever face Nate again, which meant sticking to her plan to get away from here. But until Betsy was freed from that pipe, neither of them could go anywhere.
Since it didn’t look as if Chelsea was going to leave her alone, Traci had two choices—say nothing and disappear as soon as she could with Betsy. Or risk trusting the other woman enough to enlist her help once Betsy was free. If only she knew she could trust the other woman…
After a few more rounds Chelsea stopped so they could listen for Betsy’s voice. That’s when Traci asked, “Where did you learn to speak French like that?”
“In Switzerland. I think it’s a beautiful language. Even if she doesn’t understand the words, I hope Betsy likes the songs.”
“I know she does. How come you went there?”
“It—it’s a long story, Traci. Suffice it to say I was sent to Neuchâtel to get an education in a place where I would be safe.”
Her head lifted. “Safe? From what?”
She heard Chelsea suck in her breath. “From certain dangers at home. The happiest day of my life was the moment I boarded the plane and flew far away. That’s when my whole world turned around.”
Traci blinked in surprise. “Do you feel safe now?”
“Yes.”
“Are
