The Secrets We Hide (The North Falls #2)

Prologue

Allison Vickery threw clothes into the open suitcase on her bed: underwear, bras, shirts, jeans.

She didn’t give herself time to think about what she was taking.

She had to keep moving forward, ignore the voice in her head that said she could wait another minute, another hour, another day.

They could buy whatever else they needed on the road.

There were hundreds of shady motels between North Falls and Atlanta, but she had to get out of the state.

Florida, maybe. Alabama or Mississippi, possibly.

Skirt up to Arkansas, Oklahoma, maybe disappear into the vastness of Texas.

She would keep under the radar. Pay cash.

Use the fake IDs. Make sure she was constantly moving forward, never looking back.

Every time they thought they’d caught up with her, she’d be on to the next place, then the next place, and then a month would’ve passed and she’d be home free.

They would be home free.

She checked her watch. No more delays. They had to leave now.

She went into her bathroom. Tears filled her eyes.

Her mind started to race—not with things she needed to pack, but all that she was leaving behind.

Everyone she loved. The friends she could always count on.

The neighbors who’d always checked to make sure she was okay.

The other moms, the other cops, the countless people she cherished.

Allison had given so much of herself to so many, but she’d always gotten more than she deserved in return.

Was she really going to leave them all behind?

She abandoned the bathroom. Walked down the hall to the guest room.

Went to the window, looked out into the street that had been her home for so many years.

The gorgeous fall flowers in the yards. The neatly trimmed grass.

The gentle sway of the trees that had stood through ice storms and flooding and once, a long time ago, a tornado that had levelled several houses and a farm.

Allison looked down at her own yard. Mandy had abandoned her bike on the front lawn.

They would get her a new one in another town once they had settled.

Once they were safe. That was the only thing that mattered right now.

Keeping Mandy safe. Allison had to stop making stupid mistakes.

Like leaving the damn trunk open and her other suitcase in the driveway.

Anybody passing by would know they were going somewhere.

She had to stop letting fear and anxiety overtake rational decisions.

Was it rational? Could she really leave?

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. She used the pain to focus her thinking. There was no more time for second-guessing. She let her instinct take over.

Check the perimeter. Secure the area.

She studied the neighboring houses. Johna Patel’s Subaru.

Lynne Emory’s Honda. Darla Bell’s Camry.

Window shades and curtains all open to the afternoon sun.

No strangers lurking on the sidewalks. Nothing looked out of place, but that was hardly a comfort.

Everything Allison knew as a cop, every corner she saw around, every move she anticipated, would be mirrored on the other side.

Loud music boomed out of a Hyundai as the young man from two streets over barreled past the house. Ginny Saddler’s grown son was just as reckless as his alcoholic mother. He was going to end up killing somebody one day.

Allison walked down the hallway, grabbed Mandy’s textbooks off her desk.

There was no reason her daughter couldn’t study on the road.

They would have to leave all their electronics here—phones, laptops, tablets.

Mandy would be livid, but she wasn’t unreasonable.

She knew that these things could be tracked.

She would know that their lives would be in jeopardy if they were found.

Wouldn’t she?

Allison shook her head. No more letting herself get caught up in questions she had already answered.

She would deal with Mandy’s anger later.

She grabbed a backpack, shoved in the textbooks and headed back into the hallway.

Allison bypassed the back stairs that led to the den and took the curved grand staircase so she could make sure the deadbolt on the front door was locked.

Her foot was coming off the last tread when she saw the gun.

Her gun.

Glock 19 with a fifteen-round magazine and one in the chamber. Allison had carried the backup weapon since before Mandy was born. She kept it tucked inside a Crown Royal bag in her purse, but the purple velvet bag was on the floor and the gun was aimed at her chest.

There was no time to talk, to plead, to reason, to de-escalate.

She saw the tip of the muzzle flash. Heard the crack of the bullet splitting the air.

Felt the shock of what was happening. A decade on patrol pulling over speeders with expired license plates.

Another decade of clearing warehouses full of drug dealers.

Searching stash houses. Raiding shooting galleries.

Every single time she’d entered the unknown, she had expected to catch a bullet. But not now. Not in her own home.

Not from someone she loved.