Evelyn smiled sadly to herself, thinking of that long-ago vacation. She was fourteen that summer. Amanda was twelve. And the McGuinness clan was whole, happy, and hopeful—a state of affairs she assumed would last forever. And why not? What kid with a happy life thinks it’s temporary? And, really, Evelyn’s world was far more than just happy. It was structured, safe, and part of a larger context of church, community, and roots two hundred years deep. The summer her family vacationed on Bayberry Island, everything was just as it should be, and in her teenaged heart she was sure nothing bad could ever penetrate the contentment and order.
Her mother died the next summer, just six weeks after being diagnosed with stomach cancer. Evelyn didn’t need to be a psychiatrist to know that ever since, she’d been trying to re-create the certainty and structure of her childhood, and discovered her sanctuary in training and running. She liked the cause-and-effect relationship—excellent finish times were the direct result of pristine nutrition, disciplined training, and careful preparation. It was simple. It worked. It made sense.
Evelyn’s eyes burned with fatigue and sadness. She hugged Christina tighter, inhaling the sweet summer smell of her niece’s hair and skin, deciding that maybe now she could allow herself to cry. She’d been hiding her panic and fear for a week while she schemed and plotted about how she’d get her niece to safety. She’d done things she never would have believed herself capable of, and hid all of it from her father. She’d lied to him. Repeatedly.
The thought made Evelyn feel nauseated.
How had she become the kind of person who used a disposable cell phone, carried fake IDs, and relied on bribery to make it through the day? How about making Christina put on her pirate costume in the car before they entered that New Hampshire Burger King? Or cutting and dyeing her own hair in a motel room near an I-95 exit ramp? Holy crap! That was the kind of crazy spy shit that happened in movies starring Angelina Jolie or Will Smith—not in the real life of Evelyn Helena McGuinness. Amanda, of all people, should be alive to see the transformation. But then again, if she were alive, the transformation wouldn’t have been necessary.
Evelyn smiled to herself, thinking about her little sister. As soon as Amanda began to talk, she started trying to get Evelyn to be more carefree and less concerned about the rules. In other words, more like her. When they were younger, Amanda only wanted a companion to explore with—crawl under the fence, hide in the hayloft, or take their bikes out to the main road. But by the summer they went to Bayberry, Amanda was pushing the envelope and dragging Evelyn with her. Her reasoning: if they got caught, they would be in it together.
Evelyn’s ex-boyfriend would likely find her current cloak-and-dagger routine entertaining, as well. Rory often complained she was too predictable, too tied down by her routines, too comfortable with how things had always been. And, yes, when they broke up last fall, he’d used the dreaded B-word: bor-ring.
Ha! Not anymore.
Her friend Hal’s observations echoed in Evelyn’s mind. When she called the reformed hacker to ask for help, he was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Once you start down this road, you have to stay on it or pay the price.”
Evelyn had tried to convince him it wasn’t that black-and-white. Or maybe she was trying to convince herself. “It’s temporary,” she told him. “I need some time to figure this out, find a way to prove he rigged the custody proceedings. I only want to get away from him long enough to come up with a plan.”
“But she’s his kid, Evie.”
“I know. I know. But Amanda made me swear to her . . .”
“DNA crushes everything else.” Hal interrupted her. “Look, I’m sorry. You know I love you to death and will do anything to help you, but listen to me. It doesn’t matter how horrendous Wahlman was to your sister or how you promised Amanda you would keep him out of Chrissy’s life should anything ever happen to her. Now that she’s gone, the only thing that matters to the court is that Chrissy carries that rat bastard’s DNA. She will always be his daughter. That is forever.”