“Who’s this?” he asked before handing the picture to my brother.
Grant looked equally shocked.
“I think it’s my son,” I said.
It looked like a newborn picture taken at a hospital. Though I couldn’t be sure. It reminded me of the pictures Grant had received of his son the day he was born.
Though I really hadn’t had time to process it, I knew those times we’d been together at David’s, I hadn’t been careful. I hadn’t cared. I’d just needed her.
“Tell Mom I’m sorry. I have to leave.” She and Grant’s wife had gone to the city with the kids. They wouldn’t be back until late. “Give her the picture. She’ll understand.” I’d taken a snapshot with my phone and hopefully would be seeing my son in person in the next twenty-four hours.
“You have the burners?” Dad asked.
I nodded. We’d bought a few at a time at different places over the last year. They’d been activated but unused. We had a call list so I would use a certain one to call a certain number Mom and Dad had on their end. We’d even had a schedule, by month, what number we would use because we would throw them away after one use.
“You will come?” Dad asked.
He recently convinced my mother to agree to marry him. “I will. Same protocol.”
Grant tossed in, “Will you come to the island?”
I nodded. Apparently, Connor owned a private island somewhere south of Florida.
“Connor has everything set on my end too.”
He’d bought me a house on a plot of land outside of the town where my future wife and son would be living. He’d even set up a business for me, giving me a reason for showing up in a small town. He hadn’t given me any of the details yet in case I was compromised before I arrived. I couldn’t give up information I didn’t know.
Getting me to them was complicated as we worried Nicolas might have people watching me. That was why I’d settled in New York. It was easier to disappear into the masses. However, I was back in Clinestown and my movements could easily be tracked.
The first step on my journey was a train ride. Along the route, I’d been given a couple of options to get off. My choice would be last minute, so again, I would notice if someone was following me.
At any of these stops, I would take a popular bus route west. Connor had found one stop along the way which was used more for a bathroom break than anything else. That was where I’d get off and wouldn’t get back on. I would stay there until, again, I was sure no one was watching me. As the stop was in the middle of nowhere on a piece of land that was flat for miles, it was a good choice.
There would be a car in the lot waiting for me. I even had keys already. Connor said I would find a scrunched-up wrapper on the passenger side floor that had a number scrawled on it. That was Matt’s friend’s number. He would give me directions from that spot.
Again, it was complicated. I had no idea how many people had worked on this plan. Connor and Matt. I wasn’t sure if Griffin had been involved or not.
By the time I’d arrived at that truck stop, the journey had already been longer than I thought. Nearly eighteen of my twenty-four hours had been eaten up as I drove using the directions given to me by a man called Aiden. There was no turning back now and I couldn’t call Connor to verify as I passed a sign that read Welcome to Montana.
I was tired but determined not to stop. If I did, I risked it all. So far it hadn’t appeared as though I was followed, but I didn’t know for sure.
The sun was setting when I arrived at the battered ranch I would call home. An old sign dangled in the wind from a rusty post.
“Thanks, Connor,” I said to no one.
I stepped on the porch of the old farmhouse. The wooden floors sagged, and I worried I would fall right through. I had a key but didn’t need one. When I turned the nob, the door pushed open as if by a breeze.
I was about to close the door when a truck came down the road. There was nothing for miles and I had a clear view of anyone coming or going.
This time I said, “Thanks, Connor,” with a smile on my face.
Apparently, his choice had been based on security. The truck that stopped next to mine had the logo Mason Creek Sherriff’s department on it.
“Are you Aiden?” I asked when he got out.
“Are you Liam?”
“I am.”
He pulled out a phone and eyed the screen. “Okay. You’re good.” Then he headed back to his truck.