Chapter 7 - The Encirclement
“They’re watching the convent?” Nora’s stomach dropped. Victoria Vance had moved faster than she anticipated.
“They didn’t come with warrants,” Sister Beatrice said, her voice dropping to a harsh, urgent murmur. “They came with high-priced suits and a court injunction claiming you abducted Mia from a custodial medical facility. They’re telling local law enforcement that you’re suffering an acute psychological breakdown following your father’s passing.”
“They’re lying, Bea! They killed Dad, and they’re trying to destroy the evidence,” Nora hissed, tears of frustration burning behind her eyes. “Mia was in that hospital because their driver tried to run us off the road in Allentown. I have Dad’s entire research file. The real file.”
“I believe you, child,” Beatrice said without hesitation. “Julian called me three days before he died. He knew what was coming. He sent a copy of his private research ledger to a safety deposit box in Pittsburgh under my confirmation name. But Nora, you cannot stay on the move. If state troopers stop you with an active custodial warrant, they’ll take Mia into child protective services, and Vance’s attorneys will have custody of her before you can even make your one phone call.”
Nora looked over at Mia, who was sitting on the wooden curb outside the store, happily swinging her legs while eating her muffin, oblivious to the legal noose tightening around their necks.
“What do I do, Aunt Bea?”
“You come to Clearfield, but not through the front gates,” Beatrice instructed. “There is an old timber trail behind the municipal reservoir that leads to the convent’s vegetable gardens. There is a storm cellar beneath the carriage house that hasn't been opened since the floods of seventy-two. I will leave the cellar latch open. Be there before sunset tomorrow. And Nora?”
“Yes?”
May you like
“Do not trust anyone with a badge until we have a federal attorney in the room. Victoria Vance owns the county sheriff.”
The line went dead. Nora hung up the receiver, her hand trembling so violently she nearly dropped the plastic card. She turned around to look at the highway, every passing sedan suddenly looking like a sleek black predator waiting to pounce.
