“Come on, Tad, let’s go in! I wanna tell Mom about the cell I got to walk in.”
He wasn’t so sure Miranda would be pleased to hear her son’s excitement at being in an actual jail cell. As a guy, he got it. The boy wasn’t imagining himself ever being locked in one. It was just cool to see stuff that was on television. To see where they kept the bad guys after they caught them all.
With one last check to make sure his gun was in place, he followed Ethan into the house.
* * *
When Miranda saw Tad and Ethan get out of the car, she zipped up the bag she’d been filling—the backpack from under her bed, which now held more money and her and Ethan’s favorite things, in addition to one change of clothes for each of them. The pajamas had to go. As did most of the food. She’d kept the jerky, some applesauce and a package of sandwich meat.
That should all make it through security. If it got that far.
Her father had allowed her privacy to pack, and was waiting for her in the living room.
“You want him to like you?” she asked him as Tad and her son came up the front walk.
“He will.”
“You want him to like you, call him Ethan. And let him get to know you a bit before you tell him who you are.”
She’d purposely waited to make that suggestion. He’d listen, or not. Without giving him time to assess, she had a better chance that he’d take her advice.
He wasn’t a stupid man.
“Mom! Guess what?” Ethan came barreling in the front door with Tad right behind him. And then, seeing Brian O’Connor, stopped.
“Who are you?”
“He’s someone I knew before you were born,” Miranda said, coming forward to draw her son closer to the man she wanted him farthest away from.
Play the game, she reminded herself. It was the only way to free her son.
“This is Chief O’Connor. He’s a fire chief. So now, today, you saw a police station and you get to meet a fireman.”
“Cool!” Ethan looked his grandfather up and down. “You’re kinda old to slide down poles.”
Her father knelt down, reaching out to draw a light hand across Ethan’s jaw. “I can teach you how to do it if you want,” he said, grinning.
Because she couldn’t bear to see the awe on her son’s face, Miranda looked at Tad, expecting to see his beaming approval. If that was the case, she couldn’t really blame him. He’d been under her father’s influence long before he’d ever met her. And Chief O’Connor told a convincing story with credible “proof.”
The truth would come out in the end. She had no doubt of that. If she didn’t get away, he’d hit her again. Maybe even kill her.
But then it would be too late to protect Ethan from the residual effect of living with violence. She wanted her son to grow up with the ability to trust others. The cycle of violence stopped with her. She’d promised herself.
Tad wasn’t looking at Ethan and her father. He was watching her. Intently.
“Well, if we’re ready to go...” the chief began.
“Go?” Ethan asked, frowning at her.
“Remember that vacation I talked to you about?” She said the first thing that came to mind. “You wanted to go to Disneyland or Yellowstone, remember?”
“Yeeaahh.”
“Well, how about we go to North Carolina instead?”
“Why?” Ethan frowned again. “And you said a weekend trip. What about school?”
It wasn’t that the boy loved going to school. But his life was routine. He expected that.