The headlights swept across the concrete pillars of the garage.

I drove toward the exit ramp.

The metal security gate rolled upward, and we cruised out into the humid Miami night.

A light rain had started to fall, making the asphalt slick.

I drove defensively, checking my mirrors every few seconds.

A black sedan was parked across the street from my building, its headlights off.

As I turned right onto the main avenue, the sedan’s lights flickered on.

My stomach tightened.

“Mark,” Hannah whispered, looking at her side mirror. “Is that them?”

“Sit back,” I said. “Don’t look at them.”

I accelerated, weaving through the light midnight traffic.

I took a sudden left turn onto a narrow side street, then a quick right.

The black sedan did not follow us.

It had stayed on the avenue.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Ten minutes later, we reached the gates of the Safe Haven Network.

The facility looked like an upscale condominium complex from the outside.

High stucco walls topped with security wire surrounded the property.