Dialing his cell phone, Nate urged the cabdriver to step on it. The house was mercifully close, mere miles from the Federal Building. As they screeched onto Montana Boulevard, Janie finally picked up. “Nate? What happened? How’d it go?” “Good and bad I’ll explain later any sign of Pavlo’s men?” The words came out in a rush, together, one long sentence. “No. Cielle’s been keeping watch at the windows. They don’t seem to be—” “I’m almost home. Finish packing up the Jeep. We’re leaving now.” An abbreviated pause, but Janie read his voice and simply said, “Okay. Got it.” Rocketing past the multimillion-dollar houses with their lit front gardens and spit-polished sedans, he saw his situation in stark contrast with his former life. When had everything careened so drastically and suddenly off track? It was as if he’d taken a left turn and dropped into the Grand Canyon. He asked the driver to let him off around the block. Then he cut through the Rajus’ side yard, his left foot dragging through the fallen leaves.
