Ingrid Weaver - Fugitive Hearts

It appeared as if he had to risk going into Hainesborough earlier than he would have wanted. Hopefully, the news of the breakout would have died down by now. He could find shelter in his office or in the construction trailer in the yard. It had been two days, and the Kingston pen was hundreds of miles from here. Besides, no one would expect to see him—escaped felons generally knew better than to return to the scene of the crime, right?

Wherever he ended up, he couldn’t count on luck being with him this time. He’d probably used up a lifetime’s quota of luck getting this far. Being in the exercise yard just as the leading edge of the storm had disrupted the power to the electric fence had been a fluke. A one-in-a-million opportunity. Two men had gone over the wall before Remy had fully understood what was happening.

The decision to follow them had been instinctive. After being a law-abiding citizen for his entire adult life, he had escaped custody without a qualm or a backward glance. Odd, how easily the old skills had come back to him. He wasn’t as agile as he’d been as a juvenile, but he’d known how to avoid detection by sticking to the alleys and back roads. He’d ditched the prison issue jacket and stolen that poor sap Becker’s overcoat. He’d hitched a ride with an out-of-province trucker. Then he’d lied to the innocent woman who had saved his life.

Damn, he’d already been through this in his mind, he thought, scowling into his cold coffee. He’d do whatever it took. He wasn’t going to leave a legacy of shame for his daughter. Somehow he was going to find a way to prove his innocence.

He lifted the mug to his lips and drained the last of his coffee, then counted out enough coins to cover it. He slid to the edge of the bench and glanced around the diner, preparing to leave when his gaze was caught by the face on the TV screen.

It was his mug shot.

The shock of seeing himself like that kept him motionless for a vital second before his pulse tripped into over-drive. Hunching his shoulders, Remy ducked his head, as if concentrating on fastening the buttons on his coat while he watched the screen out of the corner of his eye.

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