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“There’s always another way, Will. I feel like everyone is relying on me. I hope I don’t let them down. But it’s worth a try. Tell Marlowe I’m in.”
His sigh of relief is audible. “You’re gonna do great. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You can’t guarantee that. But if something does happen to me, can I count on you to take Conrad to my parents in Texas?”
“You have my word. I will personally hand deliver him to them.” He fingers an x over his heart before signing off the call.
Too keyed up to sleep, I access my novel document and pore my heart out to my characters until the wee hours. I fall asleep with my head on the desk. I’m still there when Conrad wakes me at seven thirty Thursday morning.
I spend the morning with my son playing games, working on puzzles, and reading books. My heart aches, thinking I may never see him again. But the idea of him growing up without either parent gives me determination to proceed with my mission.
For lunch, I heat up the homemade Brunswick stew Maurice brought. After we finish eating, I turn on a movie for Conrad and sit down at the computer for my scheduled video call with Delilah. We discuss my talking points and devise a script for my confrontation with Rourke.
While Conrad naps on the sofa, I pack his clothes for his trip to Charleston. I list the contact information for my family members on a sheet of computer paper, seal it in an envelope, and hide it in the side-zippered pouch of his suitcase.
Around three o’clock, Will texts me the schedule of events for the afternoon. Ashton will pick Conrad up at five. An hour later, Marlowe will arrive with Detective Riley, who will position his team of officers at strategic locations around the property. Once the wire is in place, Delilah will call the police and report the sighting of an intruder on the Matheson property. How long it takes Rourke to respond is anyone’s guess. Could be minutes. Could take hours.
When Conrad wakes from his nap, he’s overjoyed to learn of his weekend trip to Charleston. Keeping him calm until Ashton arrives is a challenge. I choke back tears as I bid him goodbye.
“Have a wonderful time and mind your manners. Who knows? Maybe by the time you get home on Sunday, I’ll have moved back to the cottage.”
His face lights up. “Really?”
I hold up my hands, showing fingers crossed.
Tears stream down my face as they drive away in Ashton’s convertible. Swiping at my tears, I draw in a deep breath and head back inside to await my fate. I can’t screw this up. Too much depends on it.
Marlowe shows up promptly at six. I don’t spot any members of his army, but I sense their presence. He hands me a nondescript black leather belt. “You’ll need to wear this. Your listening device is concealed inside.”
Taking the belt from him, I slide it through the loops in my jeans.
“One more piece.” He shows me a tiny clear object. “I’ll place this inside your ear canal so we can communicate with you.”
Once everything is in place, he tests the equipment to make certain it’s working.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and I bob my head, too afraid to speak.
“Delilah, you may place the call to 9-1-1 now,” Marlowe says into his Bluetooth headset. “And the countdown begins.”
“What do I do while we wait?” I ask.
“You need to be visible from the outside but not standing in front of the windows. Putz around in the kitchen. Make tea. Pretend to be working on dinner. Riley is positioned near the driveway. He will notify me when Rourke arrives, and I will let you know.”
“What if police officers come instead of Rourke?”
“That’s highly unlikely, but I will handle it if they do.” Marlowe gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve got this, Julia. Remember you’re in hiding. When Rourke does arrive, don’t rush to the door. Pretend to be afraid.”
“Trust me, I won’t be pretending.” I hold my chin high, portraying confidence I don’t feel.
Marlow gestures at the adjacent hallway. “I’ll be right down the hall in the laundry room. I can hear everything you say. If you get into trouble, I will come to your rescue.” He gives my shoulder another squeeze before disappearing down the hall.
I turn on the Keurig to heat while I search the kitchen for tea bags. When I don’t find any, I brew a cup of decaf coffee instead. Some fifteen minutes later, I’m heating up the remainder of the Brunswick stew when Marlowe says in my ear, “Showtime! Rourke is pulling into the driveway now.”
Listening carefully, I hear the sound of his engine followed by his footfalls on the stone steps outside. The doorbell rings, the knocker clangs, and Rourke barks, “Open up, Julia! I know you’re in there.”
I close my eyes and grip the counter, willing myself to wait.
He pounds loudly on the door. “I’m not joking, Julia. I know you’re here. I’ll break this door down if I have to.”
