Chapter 18 - The Safe House
By sunrise, the rain had stopped, leaving behind a cold, gray fog that clung to the pine trees outside the safe house in Sussex County.
The house was a nondescript ranch-style home at the end of a private dirt road, guarded by two state troopers parked in an unmarked Crown Victoria by the driveway entrance.
Inside, the living room was warm. Sarah was sitting on the couch wrapped in a fleece quilt, sipping hot tea from a ceramic mug. Emily was fast asleep on the rug in front of the stone fireplace, clutching a clean stuffed bear one of the troopers had brought from town.
I sat at the pine dining table with two cups of black coffee.
Sarah looked up, her face pale, the dark bruising around her eyes looking worse in the morning light.
"You shouldn't have climbed that fence, Mark," she said softly.
"I heard Emily crying," I replied. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"Let the police handle it."
"The police wouldn't have looked in the pool, Sarah. And Martinez wouldn't have found that key."
Sarah set her mug down on the coffee table. Her hands were still trembling. "When Jason locked Emily out there... he told me he was taking her to his sister's house in Delaware. He said she was safe. He swore it on his mother's grave."
"He lied."
"I know," she whispered, a tear tracing through the dirt on her cheek. "I slipped that granola bar through the bars the first night when he went to the liquor store. I told her you were coming. I told her her daddy fixes broken things, and you wouldn't stop until you found her."
"I almost stopped," I said, looking down at my scarred, calloused hands. "I almost gave up when they told me you were dead."
"I was never dead," Sarah said, looking toward the window where the morning light was breaking through the trees. "Just stupid. I thought if I stayed quiet, they’d let Luke go."
The front door opened.
Detective Vance walked in, carrying a manila folder under her arm. Her trench coat was soaked at the hem, and she looked like she hadn't slept in forty-eight hours.
"It's over," Vance said, dropping the folder onto the dining table with a heavy slap.
"Did Harris talk?" I asked.
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"She didn't have to," Vance said, pulling out a wooden chair and sitting down heavily. "Luke Collins made a full proffer twenty minutes ago in exchange for avoiding federal capital charges. He gave up the whole network. The warehouse, the laundering accounts, and the CPS coordinator who flagged your custody file."
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