“He went through,” Lorenzo said.

He ran to the window and looked out.

“He’s heading for the gate,” I said. “The main vehicle gate is just past the tree line.”

“The gates are closed,” Lorenzo said. “Marcus said they were locked down manually.”

“There is a small pedestrian gate next to it,” I recalled. “The staff uses it. It has a mechanical keypad.”

“Does he know the code?”

“Everyone on the medical staff does,” I said. “It is the same code as the pharmacy cabinet in the main house.”

Lorenzo turned and ran out of the pump house, his boots splashing through the mud.

I ran after him, my lungs burning in the cold air.

We pushed through the wet branches of the rhododendron bushes, the cold water soaking through my apron and dress.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I thought of Leo, lying in his crib, his breathing shallow and weak.

I thought of my own daughter, who never had a chance to breathe this cold air, whose life had been cut short before it began.

I could not let this man escape.