shrugged into it, tucking the dangling handcuff into the sleeve. Whipping open a desk drawer, she dug out the hotel information to decipher where she was and where to find the closest bus stop or train station.
Finally, luck was on her side: A bus stop was only two blocks away.
On her way out the door, she spotted the loose change on the desk and stopped. Her predicament hammered home. She'd dropped her purse when she'd been hit by the car and had not seen it since. She had no ID. No money. No credit cards. No checkbook.
Even if she hadn't decided to try to catch Jonah at home first, she had to go there anyway to retrieve the locked firebox stashed at the back of her closet for exactly this instance. That box held the new identities that she'd bought for them just after they'd arrived in Chicago, when she'd made preparations for the next time they'd have to run. She'd expected it to be sooner than this.
Scooping the change into her cupped hand, she pocketed it. She'd need it to pay for the bus and train ride to her car. Luckily, she had had to double park her Honda for work that morning and had left her keys with a garage attendant. She didn't anticipate having any problem getting them back without the ticket because she parked there every day, and the attendants knew her.
Outside in the cold drizzle, she walked as fast as she could for the first block, constantly scanning for Mitch and praying that wherever he had gone hadn't taken him in the direction she was headed. The wind was sharp, and she huddled against it, ignoring the throb in her shoulder, the ache in her chest.
She prayed that Jonah was okay, that he hadn't seen what had been done to Grant and Lucas or hadn't been injured himself. Remembering the blood that Mitch said had been Lucas' made her head spin. It so easily could have been Jonah's blood. She shoved the memory away, turning her face into the rain to clear her head.
Even so, guilt was a balled fist in her stomach. The Maxwells had gotten hurt because of her. She had tried to cut herself off from others, to isolate herself and, with the exception of Rachel, she had succeeded. But she couldn't have asked the same of Jonah. The boy had to have friends. How could she have possibly denied him friends?
And, really, she hadn't thought any of them, even Rachel, were in direct danger from Layton. He had never indicated that he wanted to harm anyone close to her. One of his people had found her once, and that had had a tragic outcome, but not because of any orders that came from Layton. Yes, it was true that she feared him. She had good reason to fear him. But her main objective the past fourteen years had not been to run for her life. It had been to keep from being found, because if she was found, she would lose Jonah.
But now her mother was dead, and the only reasonable explanation was that Layton had killed her to keep her quiet. Her death was simply too much of a coincidence. Eve had seen him for who he was. He couldn't have let her live, knowing what she knew.
The fist of guilt clenched tighter as Alaina remembered how she had taken Jonah and run, leaving her mother behind with the unconscious Layton. She had thought about nothing but escaping, saving herself and keeping Jonah from his father. But she hadn't known, she told herself. She hadn't known he would kill.
And now both her parents were gone. Just six weeks ago, she'd seen in the news that her father had died. She'd felt bad, even grieved for him, but the sadness had been nothing compared with what she felt now. Her mother was dead because of her, because she had run away.
Tears mixed with the rain that dripped down her cheeks. Inevitably, she remembered another woman whom she had loved like a mother. That woman had also become a casualty of Layton's, however indirectly.
Alaina kept the memories at bay until she had boarded the bus and was staring out at the rain-drenched Chicago streets. Madison, Wisconsin, was little more than a hundred
Finally, luck was on her side: A bus stop was only two blocks away.
On her way out the door, she spotted the loose change on the desk and stopped. Her predicament hammered home. She'd dropped her purse when she'd been hit by the car and had not seen it since. She had no ID. No money. No credit cards. No checkbook.
Even if she hadn't decided to try to catch Jonah at home first, she had to go there anyway to retrieve the locked firebox stashed at the back of her closet for exactly this instance. That box held the new identities that she'd bought for them just after they'd arrived in Chicago, when she'd made preparations for the next time they'd have to run. She'd expected it to be sooner than this.
Scooping the change into her cupped hand, she pocketed it. She'd need it to pay for the bus and train ride to her car. Luckily, she had had to double park her Honda for work that morning and had left her keys with a garage attendant. She didn't anticipate having any problem getting them back without the ticket because she parked there every day, and the attendants knew her.
Outside in the cold drizzle, she walked as fast as she could for the first block, constantly scanning for Mitch and praying that wherever he had gone hadn't taken him in the direction she was headed. The wind was sharp, and she huddled against it, ignoring the throb in her shoulder, the ache in her chest.
She prayed that Jonah was okay, that he hadn't seen what had been done to Grant and Lucas or hadn't been injured himself. Remembering the blood that Mitch said had been Lucas' made her head spin. It so easily could have been Jonah's blood. She shoved the memory away, turning her face into the rain to clear her head.
Even so, guilt was a balled fist in her stomach. The Maxwells had gotten hurt because of her. She had tried to cut herself off from others, to isolate herself and, with the exception of Rachel, she had succeeded. But she couldn't have asked the same of Jonah. The boy had to have friends. How could she have possibly denied him friends?
And, really, she hadn't thought any of them, even Rachel, were in direct danger from Layton. He had never indicated that he wanted to harm anyone close to her. One of his people had found her once, and that had had a tragic outcome, but not because of any orders that came from Layton. Yes, it was true that she feared him. She had good reason to fear him. But her main objective the past fourteen years had not been to run for her life. It had been to keep from being found, because if she was found, she would lose Jonah.
But now her mother was dead, and the only reasonable explanation was that Layton had killed her to keep her quiet. Her death was simply too much of a coincidence. Eve had seen him for who he was. He couldn't have let her live, knowing what she knew.
The fist of guilt clenched tighter as Alaina remembered how she had taken Jonah and run, leaving her mother behind with the unconscious Layton. She had thought about nothing but escaping, saving herself and keeping Jonah from his father. But she hadn't known, she told herself. She hadn't known he would kill.
And now both her parents were gone. Just six weeks ago, she'd seen in the news that her father had died. She'd felt bad, even grieved for him, but the sadness had been nothing compared with what she felt now. Her mother was dead because of her, because she had run away.
Tears mixed with the rain that dripped down her cheeks. Inevitably, she remembered another woman whom she had loved like a mother. That woman had also become a casualty of Layton's, however indirectly.
Alaina kept the memories at bay until she had boarded the bus and was staring out at the rain-drenched Chicago streets. Madison, Wisconsin, was little more than a hundred
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