She worked her bleeding hand into her purse to hide the scrapes when she reached the lobby. No one even glanced at her as she emerged onto the street. She walked fast and then faster, desperate to get to Johnny’s truck. Once inside, she dug her keys from the bottom of her purse and stabbed at one of the bundles. As soon as she’d ripped a little of the plastic away, she saw the instantly recognizable ink of US currency and shrieked.
Startled by her own shout, she covered her mouth and looked around. The city moved on, unaware and uncaring. She tugged and tore at a little more of the plastic and saw the number one hundred.
“Holy shit.”
Johnny had been paid in twenties, but the police had asked the public to be on the lookout for anyone spending an unusual amount of cash in twenties or hundreds. The Holcombs had accumulated the ransom cash in several different ways, some through the bank and some through personal stashes.
These weren’t new bills, either. They were uneven and crinkled. They’d been ordered by Micah to pay in untraceable money in nonsequential bills, and apparently they’d complied.
Still, she’d have to be careful. She’d have to save the money for a very long time. But that wasn’t a problem.
Veronica dropped the bills back into the shoebox, then shoved the whole thing under the seat. If they were all hundred-dollar bills, she’d guess she had a hundred thousand now, at least. Not the entire amount, but apparently Micah had spread out his stash. Some had been found in his condo. Some in a safe-deposit box. And some . . . some on the rooftop deck.
Life would be hard for a long while. They’d have to start over. But senior-living facilities were always hiring, and their little apartment in Galveston was cheap. Sydney would recover and make new friends. She’d get better. She’d be happy. She’d have to be at some point. Wouldn’t she?
And Micah would start her college fund. He owed Sydney that, at least. He owed her the life he’d stolen from her.
Veronica tugged her wig back into place. She couldn’t risk anyone seeing her new appearance before she was out of town. She put her sunglasses and hat on and carefully checked her mirrors before pulling out. From now on she’d be a law-abiding citizen. A paragon of virtue.
The money beneath the seat should glow with accusation, but if it did, Veronica couldn’t see it past her shades.
Three hours later, they were loaded up and on the road, Old Man stretched out across the back seat. Sydney had wept as she’d said goodbye to her grandparents, but she was quiet now, worn out from the upheaval.
“We’ll stop tonight to get some rest. If you see a spot you like, let me know. Someplace with a pool, maybe.”
“Okay.” She stared out the window. She was still half an inch below the recommended height, but Veronica let her sit in the front seat now. She’d grown up a lot, after all.
Veronica wanted to give Sydney her new phone, but she hesitated. It felt like too flashy a gift for this moment. It reminded Veronica of her father instead of the steadiness Syd needed right now. So Veronica turned down the music and waited for Syd to look up.
“Grandma put something in the glove box for you.”
Sydney’s face brightened. “Cookies?”
“No, not cookies. Take a look.”
Her daughter reached tentatively for the latch and Veronica tried not to wince. Sydney had never done anything with hesitation before. She opened the glove compartment and saw the red box inside. “What is it?”
“A surprise, silly.”
Syd actually giggled at that, and Veronica smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. She hadn’t used those muscles often lately.
Sydney popped open the lid of the box and lifted the tissue paper inside to find an envelope. She opened that even more carefully than normal, then drew out a card. Inside was a gift certificate for a meal kit service and a handwritten note: Let’s cook every Sunday and compare notes. I love you, Grandma.
“Mom! Mom, it’s six months’ worth of recipe deliveries! Six months!”
“That’s so cool! You can cook dinner for us in our new place!”
“Yeah, and maybe Grandma and I can even FaceTime while we cook on Sundays!”
“Grandma would love that. I bet Fitz and Trish can help her set that up. It would be like a little cooking show.”
“Yeah!” she squealed. “A cooking show!”
Tears burned Veronica’s eyes at the sound. She had to turn her face carefully and stare straight ahead so Syd wouldn’t notice.
“Can I call Grandma to say thank you?”
“Of course,” she managed to say, picking up her phone from the console to hand it over.
They’d make this work. They’d find a new life together. Somewhere safe and peaceful. Veronica could learn who she was on her own, finally. She’d be better. But she would never truly be free of this. Not really.
But someday . . . someday Sydney would.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Victoria Helen Stone, formerly writing as USA Today bestselling novelist Victoria Dahl, was born and raised in the flattest parts of the Midwest. Now that she’s escaped the plains of her youth, she writes dark suspense from an upstairs office high in the Wasatch Mountains of Utah. She enjoys summer trail hikes with her family almost as much as she enjoys staying inside during the winter. Since leaving the lighter side of fiction, she has written the critically acclaimed, bestselling novels Evelyn, After; Half Past; and Jane Doe. For more on the author and her work, visit www.VictoriaHelenStone.com and www.VictoriaDahl.com.
False Step Page 26