Home Front

My body was screaming. Every breath was a fresh agony in my ribs, and my hands were so raw they felt like hamburger meat. But I made it back to the car. I made it to the highway.

I didn't stop driving until the sun was a white-hot coin in the sky.

When I finally pulled into our driveway, it was noon. The house looked perfect, serene in the winter light. The shutters were painted. The hedges were trimmed. It was the American Dream, bought and paid for with secrets.

I walked inside. The code to the alarm still worked. *1-9-8-7.*

"Elena?"

Julian was in the kitchen. He was dressed for work, wearing a suit that cost more than the Honda parked outside. He looked up from his tablet, his face a mask of concern.

"Oh my god," he said. "Look at you."

He stood up. He reached for me.

I flinched.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "Dad called. He said you missed your check-in."

"I went for a drive," I said. My voice was a croak. "I needed to clear my head."

"In that... thing?" He gestured to the driveway. "Whose car is that?"

"It's a rental," I lied. "The Porsche broke down."

He frowned. "Why didn't you call me? I would have come to get you."

"I didn't want to bother you," I said. "You have work."

He stepped closer. He smelled of sandalwood and coffee. He looked at the scratches on my face, the mud on my coat.

"Elena, what really happened? You're scaring me."

"I'm fine," I said. "I just... I got lost. I went for a walk in the woods and I fell."

"You fell?"

"Yes."

He reached out and touched my cheek. His fingers were warm. Gentle.

"You're shaking," he whispered.

"I'm cold."

He pulled me into a hug. His arms went around me, solid and strong. He held me tight, his chin resting on the top of my head.

For a second, I wanted to collapse. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to tell him I had found his mother. I wanted him to fix it.

But then I remembered the visitor log.

*08:15 PM - J. Hawthorne - Family.*

He had been there. Last night. While I was crawling through the ceiling, he was downstairs signing his name in the book.

He knew.

He had always known.

I stood stiff in his arms. I felt his heart beating against my chest. Steady. Calm.

A traitor's heart.

"Go upstairs," he said softly. "Take a hot bath. I'll call the office and tell them I'm taking a sick day. I'll stay with you."

"No," I said. I pulled away. "Go to work. I need to sleep. I just need to sleep."

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Call me if you need anything."

He kissed my forehead.

I watched him walk out the door. I watched him get into his car and drive away.

As soon as he was gone, I locked the door.

I wasn't going to sleep. I wasn't going to take a bath.

I went to the pantry. I opened the safe.

I took out the petty cash.

Then I went to the garage. I found the toolbox.

I needed to get the hard drive out of the vent.

And then I needed to find a lawyer who wasn't on Arthur’s payroll.

Because I wasn't just fighting for my life anymore.

I was fighting for my children.