was going to create a new life for them in Canada, she had to put everything in the past. Her crimes. Her regrets. Her vengeance.
Nearly four in the morning, her head was as clear as if she’d slept eight hours instead of two. She didn’t bother with the farce of trying to go back to sleep; instead, she slid from under the lone cotton sheet, the air from the ceiling fan a welcome caress on her sweating body.
Ivy couldn’t remember ever sleeping peacefully through the night. Maybe as a little girl she had, before she learned that monsters came wrapped in handsome faces coated with sweet words.
But now there was no time for tears, no time for rage. Events out of her control had forced her to speed up her plans since reuniting with Sara last week. Seven years ago, when she was just fourteen, Ivy had buried her tracks-changed her name from Hannah Edmonds to Ivy Harris, worked in a cash business, and had the added benefit that her father had been so angry at her betrayal that he’d told everyone she was dead.
Being dead had its advantages.
The digital clock blinked and the numbers changed, from 3:59 to 4:00. She’d spend the hours before sunrise reviewing the plans for the final exchange. The ten thousand dollars she’d been promised for this recording would give them the resources to make it into Canada. She already had perfect false identities for her and Sara. The others were on their own.
Ivy’s heart twisted with guilt. She’d been responsible for this house, for those who lived here, for so long. Could she really vanish with her sister, leaving the others to fend for themselves? They were the Lost Girls, those society didn’t want to admit they’d failed. Ivy wasn’t much older, but she’d been on her own for much longer.
Mina had no street smarts; Nicole would burn through her money, then fall back to hooking on the streets; no one would protect Maddie from succumbing to her pill addiction. The only thing that had stopped Maddie from killing herself-with pills or her razor blade-had been Ivy’s constant pressure and support.
Kerry would always take care of her sister Bryn, but Ivy would miss her most of all. Kerry had been her rock for the last three years. Without her, Ivy wouldn’t have survived. She hoped once everything settled down, Kerry would find her in Canada.
Twenty-four hours and she’d have the blackmailers on tape, and as soon as physically possible, that tape would be turned over to a man named Sergio. She honestly didn’t know if Sergio was his real name, if he was an undercover cop or a criminal, but so far he hadn’t hurt any of them, he acted like he cared, and he’d already helped her rescue Sara.
Ivy treaded silently down the hall, along the edge, avoiding the creaks in the old floorboards. The faint baseboard lights glowed enough for her to navigate to the staircase.
She stopped at the top of the landing. Something felt different.
She heard a faint snore coming from Maddie’s room, closest to the top of the stairs. The ceiling fans rotated full-force in all the bedrooms, since this seventy-year-old house had never been remodeled with air conditioning. But it wasn’t something Ivy heard that had her heart racing. It was a scent. Familiar, but unexpected. Antiseptic? A cleanser? More like a hospital than cleaning day.
Questions ran through her mind. Was she being paranoid? She tiptoed silently back down the hall and opened Kerry’s door. Her friend awoke immediately.
“Ivy?”
“Shh, something’s wrong. I think we should get out. But be quiet.” Ivy didn’t have to explain that there could be a threat, and Kerry didn’t ask questions. “I’m checking downstairs.”
Ivy ran lightly down the stairs, the pungent antiseptic smell growing stronger.
At the base of the stairs, she turned to check the alarm.
A green light blinked at her. It was off. She glanced at the front door-it was locked-but the alarm was off.
Ivy set the alarm herself every night. She’d never forgotten.
She listened for any sounds that didn’t belong-heavy steps, heavy breathing-but there was nothing.
She tiptoed quickly down the hall to the office, took the gun from her top desk drawer, and went to search the rest of the house. Six pairs of feet pounded on the ceiling and she winced. If someone was inside, now he knew they were all awake.
The front of the house was clear, but when she passed the basement door on her way to the kitchen, she stopped. She still smelled alcohol, but now she smelled smoke as well. She put her hand to the wooden door, then pulled it immediately away. Hot. Was the furnace on fire? They hadn’t used it in months. The water heater? Smoke pushed out of the cracks in the door and the floor vents had begun to belch the same black tendrils.
For one brief moment she wondered if maybe she had forgotten the alarm after all, and maybe the fire wasn’t an attack, but an accident. She still needed to get everyone out, call the gas company or fire department.
Her natural suspicion prompted her to look out the window before opening the back door. On the other side of the fence that separated their yard from their elderly neighbor’s, she saw a flicker of light. Just a brief flare, like a match igniting, then going out.
She blinked. Then saw it again. Flare, then gone. Had she imagined a figure in the blackness? The streetlights didn’t shine into the backyard. She wanted to believe she’d seen nothing but an innocent light in the shadows.
But she knew better.
Ivy coughed as the smoke thickened. The fire crackled in the basement, reminding Ivy that this old house would burn fast. By the time she reached the staircase, Kerry and the girls were coming down.
“Someone’s in the backyard,” Ivy told her. “Get everyone out the front, I’ll be right there.” She handed Kerry the gun and went back to her den.
Kerry ordered the girls out the front, then grabbed Ivy’s arm and pulled her back.
“Ivy, you don’t have time.”
Ivy jerked her arm free. “I need my stuff!”
“You’ll be no good to Sara if you’re dead!”
But freedom was locked in the bottom of her desk. Identities and passports and money. A sudden, deep tremble under their feet told Ivy to bolt, but she closed her eyes, wishing it all away like she’d done when she was thirteen.
“Ivy!” Kerry shook her again, but before she could make a decision, a small explosion almost knocked them down.
She patted her pockets, but realized she was wearing shorts and her keys were upstairs. The key to her desk. She had no choice. She glanced behind her one last time.
She had to let it go.
“Hannah?” Sara grabbed her arm when Ivy and Kerry came out. Ivy cringed, hearing her real name. “Is it Daddy?”
Any evil was possible with Reverend Kirk Edmonds.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Out!”
Ivy and Kerry pushed the others from the porch into the yard. Kerry had the gun, watchful. They knew a stranger was in the back, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else lurking in the front yard. Or that he wouldn’t easily hop the fence.
Sara grabbed Ivy’s hand as they ran across the yard. They’d hide out in half-deaf Mrs. Neel’s detached garage while figuring out what to do. Maybe she’d call the social worker who had been practically begging to help them. Ivy hated asking for help, but right now she had nothing. Her plans, her resources, were gone.
A small explosion followed by a pulse of hot air pushed them the final feet across the narrow street. A second, louder explosion forced them to their knees on Mrs. Neel’s lawn. Ivy covered her head, expecting fire or debris to rain down, but all she felt was heat searing her skin.
Sara screamed, grabbed Ivy so hard it shocked Ivy back into action.
She got up, unsteady on her feet, and took one last look at her home. The dark gray smoke couldn’t hide the flames that licked at the windows.
All hope burned inside.
Ivy looked up and down the street. Lights were on, neighbors were coming out of their houses. The police,
