"I'll have this fixed in a minute," James said. "What are we going to do with him?" As he asked the question, the controller turned to face his accomplice, just in time to see the door to the fire escape open and close behind him. "Somebody's here!"

When she reached the stairwell, Spencer picked up her pace, still careful not to make any noise. Halfway down, she heard the door above her open.

"Hold it right there!"

No fucking way! No longer concerned about the noise, she raced down the final flight, flinging open the door and pulling her helmet into place. In mere seconds, she had the bike in gear, tearing toward the guard gate to escape her pursuer.

As she reached the lot, a black sedan came out of nowhere to block her exit.

Thank god, she thought, her headlight shining on the US Government license plate on the front of the car. Someone had already called the feds. Relaxing at once at what she assumed would be a friendly face, Spencer started to remove her helmet when she saw the figure from the fire escape emerge and continue toward where she sat on her bike.

Something wasn't right. The man from upstairs was undeterred by the presence of this federal vehicle. And he and James had just killed Henry.

Spencer looked nervously from the car to the man walking toward her, and back to the car. No, this wasn't right at all. Suddenly terrified, she gunned her engine and squealed around the car and across the parking lot, jumping another curb to tear across an open field to the gated entry. But the gate was closed, and the only way to open it was to swipe her card and wait. There wouldn't be time for that, as the black sedan had turned and was closing in from behind.

The Margadon property was secured by a fence, six feet high with three rows of barbed wire at the top. Spencer whipped back through the lot over the curb, tearing up the grass as she searched for a way out. The driver tried to corral her in the back, while the man on foot was running diagonally toward the back of the property to cut her off. Swerving left, she raced behind the building, remembering too late that there wasn't an outlet to the other side. Instead, she found herself cornered where the building met the fence, and the two men were now angling toward her on foot from only fifty yards away.

Out of choices, she turned the bike in their direction and watched them slowly approach. Behind them, in the far right corner of the property, the ground sloped to a ravine, and the fence dipped out of sight. That meant that the ground level before the property started to slope was higher than the top of the fence, but she couldn't envision the distance between the hilltop and the fence. If the hill was steep, the fence might be close enough that she could clear it on the fly. And if it wasn't...well, crashing into a chain-link fence at eighty miles an hour was probably preferable to Henry's fate, she thought.

The clock in her head ticked loudly as they approached. She couldn't let them get too close, but if she bolted too soon, they'd close the gap....

Now!

Gunning the engine again, Spencer charged between the two men, one of whom chased her while the other ran back to the car. As she neared the corner of the lot, she leaned forward on the racing Kawasaki, searching for the top of the fence. Please be close...please be close. As soon as she saw the top line of barbed wire, she jerked the front wheel off the ground and went airborne, clearing the fence by scant inches.

It was perfect...almost.

Unfortunately, the bike landed at an angle, and Spencer was thrown end over end, barely missing a tree trunk that might have killed her. On impact with the ground, her left elbow jammed against her ribs, and her hip hit something hard. At the same time, a protruding stick pierced her upper arm, all the way through her denim jacket.

Dazed and wounded, she realized with growing fear that her ordeal wasn't over. From beneath the bushes where she lay, she could see one of the men now climbing the fence.

"I'll drive around and come through the woods." the other shouted.

In the dark, she rose and stumbled to her fallen bike, pulling it upright and climbing back aboard. The key wouldn't fire the ignition, so she dropped the kick starter.

Three pumps...four pumps...the man had reached the top of the fence. For a split second, she weighed her chances on starting the bike versus dropping it and running like hell.

Five pumps...he cleared it, vaulting to the ground on a dead run toward her.

Frantically, she jumped high in the air and came down hard on the lever. With a sudden roar, the bike came to life again.

Lurching forward, Spencer rode recklessly through the dark woods, emerging onto the highway just as the black car was pulling to a stop on the shoulder. Instead, it drew up behind her as she raced down the nearly deserted two-lane pavement. On the open road, she lost any advantage of maneuverability and rapid acceleration. The sedan was soon on her tail and threatening to bump her from behind.

At speeds of more than ninety miles an hour, she pushed toward the Beltway, where she climbed the onramp and scooted rapidly to the far left lane. Jockeying for position, the sedan fell back a bit, encumbered by slow moving traffic and cars changing lanes. But the pursuit was relentless, and at every opening the driver of the black car would swerve and surge forward.

Spencer pulled up behind two cars driving side by side, shooting between them on the dotted line to increase her lead. Up ahead, she saw the exit for the Georgetown Pike and held her position in the far left lane, mentally mapping where each car on the highway would be when they reached that point. At the last possible second, she veered off, too late for the sedan to react without risking a pileup.

As she coasted down the ramp, Spencer blew out a breath, realizing now that her left arm and side felt as though they'd been crushed and mangled. All she wanted was to stop and rest.

Instead, she saw the commotion ahead, where the government car had pulled off onto the shoulder and was now creeping down the embankment to the exit ramp. The fucker wasn't giving up!

And neither was Spencer.

This time, she pulled off the ramp onto the shoulder, climbing up the bank to head east on the Pike - in the west bound lanes! Hugging the yellow line to avoid oncoming traffic, she pushed the Kawasaki again to top speeds, this time, putting real distance between herself and her pursuer. When she reached a long gap in the traffic, she turned off her headlamp and slowed, executing a U-turn that sealed her escape. Riding west with her lights off, Spencer watched as the black sedan flew past her in the opposite direction.

Out of danger for the moment, she drove past the Beltway and turned right onto a two lane road that took her out of traffic, entering the only haven she could find: a public park. A paved bike path wound into the woods, and she followed it until she came upon a small service shed. At last, she killed the engine and coasted to a stop, sitting perfectly still as she listened for any sound of traffic coming into the park. Satisfied that she was alone, the tall rider dismounted, her legs shaking so badly that she could hardly walk. With her last measure of strength, Spencer pulled the heavy bike behind the structure out of sight.

Exhausted, sore, and bleeding, she collapsed in a heap to assess her injuries. Merely touching her upper left arm sent fire all the way to her fingertips; the four-inch protruding stick explained that. Grasping the end, she tugged, seeing stars as it twisted deep inside. Finally it snapped, leaving a part still inside, the part that hurt so goddamned much.

"Elena...," she murmured, slapping her breast pocket in search of her phone. It was gone, probably lost when she crashed over the fence. Fuck!

Spencer stretched out on the ground, completely spent.

"This is Akers."

"I lost her, Cal. She was headed east on the Georgetown Pike." FBI Agent Mike Pollard hated the fact that he hadn't held up his end on the chase. They couldn't afford a breach like this.

Akers sighed in disgust. This was a problem, a big problem. They had planned just to clean up the computer mess and dump the programmer's body where it would never be found. But there was no way to cover up what had happened with the biker on the loose. And someone would ask tomorrow why the ground was torn up around the building. No, they needed another plan. "Okay, get on back here and pick me up. I found her cell phone in the woods. We'll start there."

"So did you and Thayer finish things?"

"Yeah. He says he erased all the evidence. You and I need to go out to Silver Springs tonight, though."

"Understood. I'll see you in ten minutes," Pollard said. A trip to Silver Springs meant one thing: James Thayer's night was about to end very badly.

CHAPTER 5.

JESSIE STIRRED IN the front seat and began to fidget, her eyes still closed as she fought against waking. From the dashboard glow, Ruth could see the marks on her child's forehead from where she'd leaned against the door.

"Hey, sweetie." She reached over and softly stroked her daughter's thigh.

Jessie made a face - her grouchy face, Ruth noted - and struggled against the seat belt to sit up.

"You okay?" The dashboard clock read 3:14. They'd been on the road for almost eight hours, and had just crossed the Pennsylvania state line. Ruth had been watching for a rest area, as she was long overdue for a break.

"Where are we going?" the four-year-old whined.

Ruth was too tired to talk about things right at that moment, but she felt badly about putting the girl off again. "I know this is hard for you, honey. I'm going to pull over soon, and we'll go to the bathroom and rest for a little while. Think you'll be okay for a few more minutes?"

Jessie didn't answer; at least, she didn't answer verbally. But her body language gave away her mood as she slumped against the seat in frustration.

As promised, Ruth pulled into a rest area and parked alongside several other cars. Quietly, they went to the restroom together and got back into the car. This time, Ruth lowered her own seat back, fixing the small pillow so that it covered the console. That let Jessie stretch out with her head in her mother's lap, and soon they were both asleep.

Only four hours later, the sound of slamming car doors roused the pair from their slumber. This time, they got out and walked around a bit to stretch their legs. The persistent cold drizzle made the car's interior more comfortable and inviting, and soon they were underway again.

"Where are we going?" Jessie asked again, this time with more curiosity than impatience.

"We're looking for a new place to live, sweetie, just you and me."

"Why?"

Why indeed? "Honey, you remember when you asked me if you could stay with me and not go back to your daddy?"

Jessie nodded. It made her nervous to talk about her daddy because he was always telling her she'd better not say anything to her mother or else.

"Do you still want to stay with me, and not have to go back to the other house?"

"Yes," the child answered, not hesitating at all.

"It means you won't see your daddy anymore at all, not even on the weekends." Ruth glanced at her daughter's face to see the response. "Does that make you sad?"

Jessie thought only a second before shaking her head no.

"And you won't get to go back to your room and play with your toys anymore." With that bit of news, she saw the anxious look on her daughter's face. "Not the toys at your daddy's house, anyway. I brought all of the toys from my house. We'll probably have to get a few new toys and some new things to wear, but we can do that."

"Can I get another Lisa doll?"

"Yes, we'll find another Lisa doll," she assured. "Jessie, if you stay with me, it means that no one will ever hurt you again. I promise. But you have to help me. Can you do that?"

The little girl nodded eagerly. If she had her mommy and Lisa, she didn't need anything else.

"You remember that game we play sometimes, hide and seek?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, honey, that's what we're doing. We're hiding from your daddy. That's why we had to drive a long way, so he won't find us."

"Is he going to look for us?"

"I think he will. But if we both keep a secret, I don't think he'll ever find us. Do you think you can keep a secret?"

She nodded again. Even at four years old, Jessie was an old pro at this secret stuff.

"We can't tell anybody about Daddy or that we're hiding. We can't tell your new friends or my new friends. Not anyone. Can you promise me that?"

Jessie was confused about the secret part. "But if we don't tell them it's a secret, they might tell Daddy where we are."

Clever child, Ruth thought. "No, this is the kind of secret that's so secret, we can't tell anyone. In fact, it's so secret that we can't even tell anyone that we have a secret."

Still, the child looked bewildered.

"You know, your daddy is going to look for a little girl named Jessie and a mommy named...?"

"Ruth!"

"Right! So right now, we're going to change our names. Okay?"

"Can I be Brittany?"

Ruth groaned inwardly. Brittany Schaefer was Jessie's best friend from pre-school. "No, Brittany is a very nice name, honey, but I've picked out something a little different. I want your new name to be Megan. I think it's very pretty," she coaxed. "Do you like that?"

Jessie thought it over. She didn't know anyone named Megan, but that was okay, she finally decided. "Yeah."

"Okay, honey, and I'm going to change my name to Karen. You can still call me Mommy, but I'm going to tell people that my name is Karen Oliver and you are my little girl, Megan Oliver."

The sadness in Edward Melnick's eyes brought tears to her own. Ruth knew at once why the old gentleman had come to the bank today. Quietly and respectfully, she walked him through the closure of the two savings accounts he'd started a few years ago, cutting a cashier's check for the total made out to the Children's Home Society. Ed Melnick had tragically lost both of his beautiful granddaughters, Karen and Megan Oliver, when they'd drowned in a boating accident at Great Pond.

Ruth vacillated between shame and honor at commandeering the names and social security numbers of the two lost children. In her heart, she hoped that Edward Melnick would understand her need to save her own daughter from danger.

"You and me will have the same last name." Jessie realized.

"That's right. Megan...," she pointed first to her daughter, then to herself, "and Karen Oliver. Starting right...now! Okay, little girl, what's your name?"

"Megan."

"Megan who?

"Megan Allber," she answered.

"Megan Oliver. Say it with me. O-li-ver."

"Oliver!"

"Good, let's try again. What's your name?"

"Megan Oliver!"

"You're so smart. Karen and Megan Oliver have a secret that no one will ever know. Right?"

"Right."

"So tell, me little girl, do you have a secret?"

"Uh-huh. Me and my mommy...."

"Un-unh! Do you have a secret?"

"No!"

Ruth laughed out loud at her daughter's enthusiasm. It would take a few days to instill the importance of hiding who they really were, but over time, she knew that her daughter would forget much of what had been her early life. And that could only be a good thing.

At the next exit, they pulled off to get gas. Inside the food mart, Ruth gathered sweet rolls, orange juice and coffee for breakfast and they set out again, the skies overcast and dreary.