Prologue

Two more months.
When would we be free?
And what would it mean to be free? 

1

It had taken six hours, three pit stops and a few reaching out for favors until Jane Smith pulled the car to a stop in front of a small cabin in northwest Raton, New Mexico. The one-story house had wooden walls and a red gabled roof, it had a small kitchen that also worked as dining room, and the whole area, which had no walls dividing it from the simple living room, was plainly furnished. A small hallway led to two bedrooms, one that had two bunk beds where Sky Woodsworth and Ryan Forde slept, and another with a queen sized bed where Jane and Georgiana Smith did the same.

The cabin, which was to the far northwest, offered quick escape in case they were ambushed, as they could either change and run into the wild, or jump into the car and two minutes later be on Canam Highway.

“You should see Matthew, Georgie, or at least call him,” Jane told her daughter in a kind manner after the latter had returned to the small house following a short trek, while Ryan took a shower and Sky tried to find more information on Christopher Cross on her laptop.

So far, little to nothing had been found, and they’d been surprised to learn he was still listed as the school’s principal and that no changes had been made.

“I guess,” Georgiana mumbled, but she was still reluctant. She tied her hazel hair into a short ponytail. “He’s lost Ingrid, even if she was crazy. And things still stand as they did months ago­—I’m still a danger for him and for Mickey.”

“Yes, he’s lost Ingrid,” Jane tensed at the mere mention of her name, as she’d finally accepted the deceased were for what she’d really been as opposed to the ally she’d considered her to be, and now she flared with hatred whenever she thought of everything she’d lost and had been stopped from having because of her. Everything that Ingrid had taken from her. “But I’m positive Matthew still needs you. You are his daughter, Georgie, he’ll be glad to know you’re safe. Who knows what he’s been told?”

“I suppose,” Georgiana bit her full bottom lip and shrugged. “I guess it’ll be safest if I text him,” she said as she reached for her cell phone.

The first one she’d own had been taken from her the night she’d discovered that Margo was just an aloof victim in her husband’s plan. She’d since bought a new pre-paid phone.