Had she dreamed someone was knocking on her motel door or was it real? Groggy with sleep, she rolled out of bed and stumbled past her lit bathroom. Wiping a grain of sleepy dust from one eye, she went up on tiptoe to peer through the door’s peephole. The familiar sight of Drake wearing a hoodie made her heart leap with joy. He had dressed like that when pretending to be a teenager at the homeless shelter her father had used to launder his money. It was there that they’d met—her as a volunteer, him as a runaway in search of a new beginning. The hood was pulled up over his head, leaving his face in shadow, but she’d have recognized him anywhere. With a dry mouth and fingers that could scarcely unlatch the safety chain, Skyler hauled the door open. Drake! Her cry of anticipation curtailed abruptly as the light from her bathroom hit his face. No, not Drake. She was letting in a total stranger. She tried to back up, to slam the door on him, only the stranger was stronger.
