The text on the screen was short.

“Bring the notebook home, Natalie,” it read.

I stared at the words, my thumb hovering near the plastic casing of the monitor.

“She knows,” I said.

“She always knows,” Mara said, reaching across the table to close the screen. “We have to go. Now.”

I grabbed the notebook and shoved it into my tactical pack.

Mara took the portable monitor, slipped it into her jacket, and headed for the cabin door.

The rain was coming down harder now, drumming against the tin roof of the porch.

We ran to the car, our boots sinking into the soft mud of the driveway.

Mara unlocked the dark sedan, and we slid inside, the doors shutting out the worst of the storm.

She started the engine, shifted into reverse, and backed out onto the narrow dirt road.

“We need to get onto the interstate,” Mara said, turning the wipers to high. “We head south.”

“South to Maryland?” I asked, looking out the passenger window at the passing pines.

“Your family’s old estate in Maryland,” Mara said. “That is where your father kept his private servers.”