Chapter 2 - The Payphone at the Crossroads
The headlights of the Mercer SUVs swept the tree line like searchlights as I melted back into the impenetrable shadow of the oaks. I didn't wait for Victor or the rest of Gideon's men to sweep the perimeter. My lungs burned with every step, the wet fabric of my shirt clinging like a second skin to my spine as I scrambled up the steep earthen embankment away from the river.
By the time I reached the county blacktop two miles north, my legs felt like lead weights. The wind had picked up, carrying the sharp scent of oncoming rain from the western hills. A solitary neon sign buzzed in the distance—a rusted red cutout of a coffee cup above a cinder-block diner with a gravel parking lot.
I ducked behind the building, the compressor of the walk-in freezer humming a low, mechanical drone. Trembling, I pulled the black smartphone from my pocket. The screen was cracked across the bottom corner from where it had hit the sand, but the battery icon still glowed green. I didn't call Gideon back. Instead, I dialed a number I had memorized a lifetime ago—an old landline that belonged to Thomas Sterling, the only attorney in three counties who had ever looked at the Mercer family empire and refused to be bought.
The phone rang four times before a gruff, sleep-roughened voice answered. "Sterling."
"Tom," I whispered, pressing my forehead against the cool cinder blocks. "It's Hannah."
A sharp intake of breath hissed through the receiver. The ambient noise of papers rustling told me he had sat straight up in bed. "Hannah? Good God, girl. Where are you? The state police have a BOLO out for your sedan. Mercer’s private security has been tearing up every county road between here and the state line for forty-eight hours."
"I was at the river," I said, my voice shaking so badly I could barely form the syllables. "I pulled Noah out. Gideon was there before I could even catch my breath."
"Listen to me very carefully," Sterling said, his tone dropping into crisp, professional urgency. "Mercer isn't just a wealthy man; he's got the district attorney in his pocket and half the state senate on retainer. If he catches you tonight, he won't just lock you out of Noah's life again—he'll have you committed. You need to ditch that phone. The GPS ping on a secure asset line like that is a beacon."
"I can't run anymore, Tom," I said, staring down at my mud-stained boots in the dim neon glow. "I watched my son sink beneath that bridge. I pulled him out with my own hands. I'm not leaving him in that fortress."
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"Stubbornness is going to get you killed," Sterling muttered, though I heard a grim sort of respect in his sigh. "There's an abandoned orchard off Route 9—old Miller's place. Head there. Stay off the cameras. I'll meet you at dawn with a change of clothes and a burner."
The line went dead with a sharp click, leaving me alone in the dark with the hum of the freezer and the growing roar of the highway.
