One businessman asked, “Including the daughter?”
Reddick didn’t hesitate.
“If necessary.”
Noah wrapped an arm around me.
Mercer paused the video.
“This is enough.”
“For what?” I asked.
“Conspiracy charges.”
He looked at the drives.
“And potentially much more.”
Then an alarm sounded.
Every light in the house turned red.
Mercer stood instantly.
A federal agent shouted from the hallway.
“Vehicle approaching east perimeter!”
Another voice came over the radio.
“No authorization code!”
Gunfire exploded outside.
The windows shattered.
Noah pulled me down behind the kitchen island.
My mother screamed Paige’s name.
Mercer returned fire through a reinforced doorway.
“Basement! Move!”
Bullets tore through the front wall.
Someone outside threw a device through the broken window.
Mercer kicked it behind a steel cabinet seconds before it detonated.
The blast knocked me sideways.
My ears rang.
Noah dragged me up.
“Run!”
We raced through the hallway.
My dress caught on a nail.
I didn’t stop.
Fabric tore from the skirt.
Mom and Paige were already descending a staircase beneath the laundry room.
Mercer came behind us.
He slammed the metal hatch shut.
The tunnel beneath the house smelled like wet concrete and river water.
“Where does this go?” I shouted.
“Old emergency evacuation route.”
“How old?”
“Old enough that I’m hoping Reddick doesn’t know about it.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
We ran.
Barefoot.
Soaked.
Terrified.
Somewhere above us, gunfire continued.
Halfway through the tunnel, Paige started crying.
“I can’t breathe.”
Mom stopped.
I grabbed my sister’s face.
“Look at me.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
Behind us, Mercer shouted.
“We have to keep moving.”
Noah took Paige’s hand.
“Count your steps.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“Count.”
“One.”
“Again.”
“Two.”
“Keep going.”
By thirty, she was moving.
By one hundred, we could hear rushing water.
The tunnel ended beneath an old boathouse.
Captain Daniel Reeves, one of the veterans from the church, was waiting beside a patrol boat.
Mercer climbed out first.
“Where’s Shaw?”
“Gone.”
“Attack team?”
“Three arrested. Two down. Others fled.”
“Federal casualties?”
“Two wounded. Both stable.”
Mercer nodded.
“Get everyone on the boat.”
We climbed aboard.
As the engine started, flames appeared above the tree line.
The safe house was burning.
My wedding day had started with flowers and champagne.
It ended with me sitting on the floor of a military boat, barefoot in a torn wedding dress, watching a federal safe house burn behind me.
Noah sat beside me.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I looked at him.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“I mean everything.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to decide what truth I can survive.”
He lowered his head.
“You’re right.”
That answer surprised me.
No excuses.
No speech.
Just acknowledgment.
“I was afraid you’d think I used you.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I nearly stopped investigating when I realized who your father was because I knew exactly how it would look.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He looked toward the burning shoreline.
“Because families were still getting hurt.”
I reached for his hand.
“I’m still angry.”
“You should be.”
“I still love you.”
His eyes filled.
“I hope so.”
I almost laughed.
Then Mercer’s radio came alive.
“Admiral, we have confirmation.”
He picked it up.
“Go.”
“Reddick’s aircraft landed in the Bahamas.”
Mercer frowned.
“I thought it was abandoned.”
“It was.”
“Then where is he?”
A pause.
“We found his security chief at the airport.”
“And?”
“He talked.”
Everyone on the boat went quiet.
The agent continued.
“Reddick never boarded the plane.”
Mercer stood.
“Where is he?”
“South Carolina.”
My blood went cold again.
“He staged the escape,” Noah said.
The radio answered.
“Correct.”
Mercer asked the only question that mattered.
“Do we have his location?”
“Yes.”
The agent gave an address.
Mom gasped.
I recognized it too.
The Whitmore family beach house.
The same place where my father and Senator Reddick had held private meetings for years.
