There were other issues, too. What about ID? She’d need a new identity if she planned to escape The Crew. Was the government going to provide that? Otherwise an everyday P.I. would be able to find her.

Survival had been a part of her life for so long, she knew what it required. But she didn’t mention any of these details. Virgil had enough on his mind. “Wallace doesn’t trust you,” she said. “He believes you’ll double-cross him.”

“He was supposed to stay in his motel room. Anyone would’ve suspected him of taking off,” Wallace said, but she kept her head down and didn’t respond. Virgil was talking.

“If he didn’t have me by the balls, maybe I would.”

“So they’re forcing you to do this?”

“In a way. In another way it’s an opportunity. And it might be my last.”

Scrambling for a sliver of hope to cling to, she tried opportunity on for size. But she’d waited so long for the truth to win out, for her brother to be exonerated, that facing such a big setback made it feel as if their lives would never be their own. “A man showed up at the house,” she said. “With a gun.”

“Mia and Jake—”

“Are fine. He grabbed Mia for a few seconds, put a gun to her head, but…that was it.”

There was a silence, during which she felt his concern and his rage, before he asked, “What’d this man look like?”

“Short. Muscular. Lots of tattoos—maybe a full-body suit because even his face was tatted up. He’d shaved his head but had this little patch of hair growing from his chin—”

“Ink.”

She wiped away the last of her tears. What good did it do to cry? Crying changed nothing. Hadn’t she learned that by now? “That’s what he called himself, yes.”

“What’d he say?”

“He referred to you as Skin, wanted to know if you were getting the flag dirty.”

“Dropping the flag. He was asking if I was bailing out.”

“Of the gang?”

“That’s right. What else?”

Her nose was running, but she was too dejected to head to the bathroom. She sniffed loudly. “He demanded that I tell him where you are.”

“And you said…”

“What could I say? I didn’t know. He gave me a message that you have until noon tomorrow to call someone named Pretty Boy. But that deadline passed yesterday. It’s too late.”

“I wouldn’t have called him, anyway.”

Conscious of Wallace, who was still watching her, she got to her feet, turned her back to him and leaned into the window again. “What will they do?”

“If they find me, they’ll kill me. They’ll kill you, too, if they can. That’s why I need you to do exactly as Wallace says. This isn’t a game. It’s for real. He’ll put you in the Witness Protection Program, give you a fresh start. I know you don’t feel good about that, but it’s our only chance.”

“What about Tom?” she asked.

“Your ex? What about him?”

“The kids will never see their father.”

“He’s no father. He takes them maybe twice a year, sends them a few bucks for Christmas.”

“Still…”

“This is a matter of life and death, Laurel. That outweighs everything else. Everything.”

“But are we talking forever? I don’t want to tell them that.”

“Then don’t. Forever is a long time, baby sister. Let’s get through now. Then we’ll worry about later.”

“Why?” she whispered. “Why is this happening?”

“It’s my fault,” he admitted. “I never realized how my decisions would affect you, never dreamed I’d ever see the day I got out of prison.”

But the fact that he’d been put behind bars wasn’t his fault. They had Ellen and Gary to blame for that. Maybe their mother and uncle hadn’t murdered Martin with the intention of framing Virgil, but they didn’t do anything to stop him from going to prison. Ellen had even testified about the many times Virgil had stood up for Laurel against their stepfather, said Virgil had hated his stepfather and had threatened him on a number of occasions. “This all goes back to Mom and Gary, and what they did.”

A beep sounded, signifying another call. Afraid to let Wallace know someone else was trying to reach him for fear he’d rush her off the phone, she ignored it. “Will we get to talk, stay in touch?”

“Probably not. Don’t write to me, either. If they manage to track me down, I don’t want there to be any link between us.”

That meant she was losing even more than she’d lost before. “But how will we connect when this is all over?”

“Wallace will tell me where you are. I’ll find you. Don’t worry.”

A second beep sounded, and suddenly she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay on the phone any longer. If she broke down again, she’d only make him feel worse. And she was on the verge of more tears. “Another call’s coming in. I’d better go.”

“Laurel?”

“What?”

“I love you,” he said, but she was crying too hard to answer so she passed the phone to Wallace as if she hadn’t heard him.

Wallace told Virgil to hang on and switched to the incoming call. No doubt he was hoping it was the U.S. marshal who was supposed to relieve him so he could return to his family and continue living his safe and predictable life. Laurel envied him that. She also resented his impatience with her and her brother when he had no idea what it was like to walk in their shoes.

“Hello?…This is Rick Wallace…. Say that again?… Damn it! How’d that happen? We told you to go over there…. I know, but it’s so…unnecessary…. The bastards.” He dropped his head, massaging his temples with one hand. “We’re fine. Any witnesses?…What about other evidence?…Whoever it was must have some connection to The Crew…. Of course…. Thanks for letting me know.”

He stared at Laurel as he switched back to the other line. “Virgil? I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.”

Laurel’s first instinct was to check on Mia and Jake. But she could tell from Wallace’s manner that it wasn’t the children. “What is it?” she murmured.

Reaching out, he took her hand. “It’s Trinity Woods.”

“My babysitter?” She had no idea how Virgil was reacting. She couldn’t hear him. But she assumed the name didn’t mean much to him. She’d never mentioned Trinity. Or maybe she’d made some oblique reference in one of her letters.

Wallace shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes.”

And then she knew. The police hadn’t stopped Trinity from going to the house, didn’t get to her in time. Why not? Wallace had called them at least an hour before Trinity was due to arrive, had explained who he was and why it was important that someone intercept her. But maybe he hadn’t put enough urgency in the request. They hadn’t really believed she’d be hurt. No one had any reason to hurt her, not even The Crew. “Don’t tell me…”

“I’m afraid so.”

Laurel began to shake. “She’s been shot?”

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Yes.”

“How badly is she hurt?”

His hand gripped hers tighter, as if he’d warm the blocks of ice that were her fingers, if he could. “She’s more than hurt, Laurel. She’s dead. Someone gunned her down while she was standing on your doorstep.”

13

The woman who was shot could’ve been Virgil’s sister. Only by the grace of God was it someone else. But that someone probably had a family who cared about her just as much as Virgil loved Laurel.

What a tragedy….

Bundled up in a coat and mittens, with her mother’s old quilt draped across her lap, Peyton sat on her deck, letting the wind play havoc with her hair while she stared out to sea. She’d tried to work as a way to distract herself, but once she’d heard from Wallace and learned the news about Trinity Woods, she couldn’t concentrate on anything except what Virgil must be feeling over at the motel—and whether or not he was really safe.

She wanted to go to him, reassure him if she could, maybe even bring him home. She felt she had a professional excuse to do just that. The CDCR wouldn’t want him to renege on the deal.