“Julian doesn’t leave things to chance, Claire,” she said, turning her head slightly. “He let them think they had the upper hand.”

“But Vanessa’s father has police officers on his payroll,” I said.

“Not the ones who arrived at his office tonight,” Margaret replied. “Those were federal warrants.”

The SUV climbed a steep, winding road through the pine trees.

After ten minutes, we stopped in front of a small, dark cedar cabin.

It was completely hidden by the dense trees, with no lights showing from the outside.

Marcus killed the headlights and turned to us.

“We’re here,” he said. “I’ll carry the bags.”

We walked inside, the air cold and smelling of pine.

Marcus quickly flipped a switch, and a small yellow lamp illuminated the wood-paneled living room.

It was simple, comfortable, and warm once the electric heaters kicked in.

I sat Emma on the sofa, wrapping her in the dry blankets Marcus brought from the closet.

“I’ll watch the door,” Marcus said, stepping back out onto the covered porch.

Margaret began to make a pot of tea, her hands steady as she moved around the small kitchen.