"I will." The car at the gate was a black sedan, identical in model and color to the one from Monday. Anthony was standing beside it in his dark jacket and his cap, his left thumb resting on the door handle with the silver ring catching the early light. Richard walked to the car at his usual pace. He did not look at his phone. He looked at Anthony. Anthony gave him the smallest nod. Richard got into the back seat.
Anthony closed the door, walked around, and got into the front. The car pulled smoothly out of the driveway. For the first 10 minutes they drove in silence. They took the main road out of the city, then the highway north. The morning traffic was light. The sky was the color of pale slate. Anthony's eyes moved often to the rearview mirror. "They are behind us," he said quietly. "How many?" "One car so far, a dark gray sedan, two men inside. They picked us up near the Wilcox exit. They have been three cars back since then."
"Hannah's team is tracking them." Richard nodded. He looked out the side window at the trees beginning to turn gold along the edges of the highway. He thought about Adrian Holst, who had once stood in a courthouse in Wisconsin and signed papers changing his name. He thought about Margaret Holst, who had gone for a hike on a Saturday morning and never come home. He thought about Renee Castle, who had bought a house in Phoenix and lit candles at dinner and gone to sleep one night and never woken up.
He thought about Vivian, who at this moment was probably in the garden room with a cup of tea, waiting for a phone call that would tell her the worst day of her life had finally arrived. He did not feel rage. He had thought he would, but he did not. He felt something quieter, something harder to name, the way you feel when you watch a long sentence finally come to its period. Anthony took the exit for Hartwick.