Mariah Stewart - Cry Mercy

“Uh-uh. It won't do any good, Stef. It won't stop until he gets her. He'll get her at her school or he'll have someone come into the house in the middle of the night, but he will get her.” She shook her head, her face white with fear. “As long as we're here, and he knows we're here, it won't stop. There aren't enough police in this part of the state to take on his whole family, and he won't care how many of us or how many of them die.”

“So we call in the FBI.”

“Steffie, the FBI has been after him for longer than you have.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Let me tell you what I saw on TV this afternoon…” She related what she'd heard and what she'd learned from the Mercy Street Foundation website.

“You're thinking about applying?”

“I already did, online.”

“You're just going to pack up and move East?”

“No time to pack.” She shook her head. “I don't dare go back to the house, Stef. I have to protect my daughter. No way can I let that animal or any of his relatives get within a country mile of her. I've always had a bag packed with clothes and cash and some things I couldn't leave behind. Chloe's baby pictures… some of her baby things.”

“What made you think you'd need to do that?”

“I spent my entire childhood on the move. I've never felt that anyplace, anything in my life was permanent. Which is why I rented, instead of buying that house.”

“Give me a few days to see what we can do.”

“There's nothing you can do. No one's gotten close to him, ever. No one knows where he is. He has a huge network, his brothers, his sisters, his cousins, his uncles. We're talking about one of the biggest drug families operating between Mexico and Southern California.”

“Sooner or later-”

“Later will be too late for my daughter. I can't give her up to the kind of life she'd have, growing up as the daughter of a major drug dealer.”

“So you move across the country, you think he won't be able to find you?”

“He won't be looking for Emme Caldwell.”

“You'd change your name?”

“My name?” she snorted. “What is my name, Stef? I don't even know what my real name is.”

Steffie held her head in her hands. “You know that Emme Caldwell died five months ago.”

“Robert Magellan won't know that.”

“He will when he checks her references.”

“That would be you.”

Steffie fell silent.

“I know it's a lot to ask. If you're not comfortable with it, God knows, I'll understand. I can reapply, with a different name.”

“You already applied as Emme?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that pretty much seals the deal.”

“Oh, God. I should have thought this through a little more. Stef, I am so sorry. It's just that, after hearing all this from that hooker this morning, then going off my shift and seeing this press conference on TV, then those two goons were outside my house…” She blew out a long stream of air. “It just seemed like a sign, like someone was telling me something. But I was wrong to put you in a position where you'd have to lie. It'll be okay. I'll come up with something else.”

“It's not okay,” Steffie told her. “You're the best friend I ever had. You saved my life twice in the past five years. I can save yours this once. Besides, if anything happened to you or to that precious girl…”

Steffie visibly shivered. They'd both seen firsthand what happened to those who crossed the Navarro family in the past.

“Just tell me what you want me to do…”

Mommy, do I go to school tomorrow?” Chloe looked up from the picture book she'd been quietly looking at for the last eighteen miles.

“Not tomorrow, pumpkin.” The newly self-christened Emme Caldwell met her daughter's eyes in the rearview mirror. She'd been trying to think of herself as Emme and banish all thoughts, all reminders of her old name. Emme Caldwell , she'd repeated to herself over and over. My name is Emme Caldwell .

Even her newly purchased ID reminded her that she was, indeed, Emme Caldwell. It had gone against everything she'd believed in to pay money for falsified documents, but in the end, survival trumped everything else.

“When?” Chloe banged the heels of her sneakers on the car seat to emphasize her displeasure. “I haven't gone to school in days! When can I go to school again?”

“Pretty soon,” her mother told her.

“But not my school,” Chloe said softly.

“You'll go to a new school,” she said brightly as she tried to picture introducing herself to Chloe's new teacher. Hi. I'm Emme Caldwell…

“I liked my old school.” Chloe's feet banged with increased vigor.

“I'll bet you'll like your new school, too.”

“Natalie won't be there.” Chloe's eyes filled with tears. “I won't know anyone. I won't have anyone to play with.”

“You didn't know anyone at Miss Maria's either, until you went the first day, remember?”

“Why can't I go to my old school anymore?” It was more a demand than a question.

“Do you remember what I told you?”

“That you're going to have a new job and it would be too far away to go to the old school.” Chloe's face held the promise of a major whine on the way. “Why couldn't you keep your old job?”

“Sometimes change is good, Chloe, sometimes-”

“I could stay with Aunt Steffie.”

“Aunt Steffie works a lot, much more than I do.”

“I could have a babysitter, like when you have to work and I don't have to go to school.” She brightened. “I could stay with Mr. Mustache.”

“It isn't that simple, baby.”

“I'm not a baby.” To prove her point, Chloe wiped away the tears that had begun to spill over with the back of her hand.

“I know, sweetie. And I'm sorry that this move is upsetting you. But it's what we have to do.”

“I don't like it,” Chloe grumbled from the backseat.

They'd had the same conversation no fewer than three times each day since they left California.

Outside of Denver, Emme pulled off Route 70 and followed the signs for Highway 36, which had appeared on the map to be the quickest way east. It was closing in on 6 P.M., and she suspected that part of Chloe's problem was hunger and fatigue. Even though the child had slept for a short time earlier in the afternoon, being confined in the car seat all day was taking its toll.

“We're going to have some dinner and find a nice place to stay tonight,” Emme told her. “So you're going to have to help me find a restaurant.”

Chloe sat up straight in her seat and peered out the window.

“I see golden arches,” she said excitedly.

“Let's look for someplace with a better selection of dinners.”

Several minutes later, the sign for a hotel with a decent-looking restaurant came into view, and Emme turned in to the parking lot.

“Look, Chloe,” she said as she turned off the engine. “We can have dinner, swim in the pool, and sleep in a nice bed. What do you say?”

“Do they have spaghetti?”

“We can go in and ask.” Emme got out and opened the rear door. “What if they don't have spaghetti? What else would you like?”

“Macaroni and cheese. The orange kind Aunt Steffie makes. It comes in a box.” Chloe undid her seat belt and with her mother's help, hopped down to the ground. She continued to rattle off dinner possibilities all the way to the reception desk and all the way to the room they'd share that night.

There'd been spaghetti on the menu and a heated indoor pool for a swim before bedtime, so Chloe was not only a happy girl, but a very tired one by the time they turned in for the night. She fell asleep almost immediately after getting into her pajamas. Her mother was more than ready for a good night's sleep herself, but took the time to chart the next day's route before turning off the light. She was hoping to get to somewhere between St. Joseph, Kansas, and Springfield, Illinois, by the following night. She fell asleep trying to calculate how many more days they'd be on the road before they finally arrived in Conroy, Pennsylvania. Home of the Mercy Street Foundation. And with any true luck, future home to Emme and Chloe Caldwell.