Trenton gestured over his shoulder to the men in suits sitting at the dining table. “FBI.”

I leaned over to get a better look and then stood back upright. “What are FBI agents doing here?”

“We’re not sure about that, either. I think it has something to do with who shot Tommy. Maybe they’re on the Ten Most Wanted or something.”

“But why wouldn’t they give you more information? Have they asked you any questions?” America asked.

“No,” Trenton said.

America approached Abby, whose entire body looked swollen, even her nose. “You don’t find this situation odd? Where’s Travis?”

Abby touched America’s arm, giving her an unspoken signal to be patient.

“It’s going to be okay, Mare,” Abby said. “He went to pick up Liis from the airport.”

“Liis is here? Why isn’t she with Thomas?” I asked.

Before Abby could answer, Jim hobbled in from the living room.

“Uncle Jim,” I said, hugging him.

He patted my back. “Just waiting to hear something.” When he pulled away, he looked weary and heartbroken, as if he already knew what was coming.

“Can I get you something, Dad?” Abby asked.

“Just getting some coffee,” Jim said.

“I’ll get it,” Camille said. “You should both be resting.” She meant Abby and Jim, but I felt like sitting down myself.

“She’s right. Put your feet up,” America said.

As America walked past me, leading Abby to the living room by the hand, I noticed the absence of the same fear and devastation that was weighing down the faces of everyone else in the room—everyone but Abby. Normally, she would be interrogating those agents until she got answers.

America nodded, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. I wondered what she knew that I didn’t. The boys screamed, and America rushed to the bottom of the stairs, looking up as she yelled, “Any blood?”

“No ma’am!” all three called back in unison.

Camille smiled and filled a glass with ice and water, handing it to Dad before escorting him back to his chair.

“This doesn’t look like coffee,” Dad said with a smirk.

“I know,” Camille said.

America and I joined everyone but Trenton in the living room. He was in the hall on the phone, trying to reach the twins in Colorado. America sat on the couch, and I settled in on the floor between her legs, trying not to groan when she began rubbing her thumbs in circles over my shoulders.

Trenton walked in, holding his phone in the air. “Twins got a flight for the morning. I’ll pick them up.”

“I’ll follow you in the van,” I said.

America’s fingers pressed into my sore muscles even further. “When do we find out more about Thomas?” she asked.

“Soon,” Abby said.

America shot her a look. Something was up, and my wife never appreciated being kept out of the loop. I thought that when Travis and Abby eloped, America would strangle them both. Apparently, they hadn’t learned their lesson.

The front door opened and closed, and Travis walked around the corner, loosening his tie. He’d gotten a job with Thomas’s advertising firm. It was based in California, and the story was that he was taking over for Thomas since he’d moved out to manage their East Coast office, but Travis somehow managed to stay in Eakins. None of it made much sense, but I hadn’t thought to question them until now. America and I had been busy with our own family. It’d been far too easy to overlook things.

I stood, hugging Travis. “You okay? Is that a fresh black eye?”

Travis grimaced. “I totaled the SUV.”

“Where’s Liis?” I asked.

“Her friend Val took her to get diapers and such,” he said, looking tired.

“Can someone answer the fucking question?” America blurted out. “Why is Liis here without her husband?”

“Mare,” Abby warned.

Camille brought Dad a steaming mug, and his eyes lit up for a few seconds.

“Decaf,” Camille said.

“Why are we here, Abby?” America demanded.

“To keep you safe,” she blurted out. “To keep us all safe.”

“From what?” I asked.

Travis shifted. “From whoever shot Thomas.”

I looked up at my wife. Her mouth hung open a bit, and she’d stopped rubbing my shoulders.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Trenton asked, reaching for Camille’s hand. She took it, looking just as stunned and worried as America did.

“It means …” Jim began, taking a deep breath. “The FBI are here, and they seem to think whatever happened to Thomas wasn’t an accident. Now … everyone, just calm down. You’re safe here. The kids are safe. When Taylor and Tyler get here, they’ll be safe too.”

“So that’s the plan?” Camille asked. “To hole up here like a safe house?”

“Do they really think someone is targeting our family?” Trenton asked. “Why?”

Travis seemed irritated with each question. “It’s possible.”

“The whole family?” Trenton asked.

“Possibly,” Travis responded.

“Olive,” Trenton said, running down the hall and out the door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LIIS

24 HOURS EARLIER …

I SAT IN A SEEDY HOTEL ROOM, judging the peeling white paint and outdated furniture. I’d stayed in a lot of shithole places during my time with the FBI but never with a newborn. I’d been holding her since we’d arrived, too nervous to set her down before scouring the room with a black light.

After a short knock, Agent Hyde cracked open the door. “It’s me.”

“Come in,” I said, half relieved, half annoyed. She’d come empty-handed when I’d specifically asked for clean sheets, pillows, blankets—not from the motel—rags, and Lysol—and a lot of it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hyde said. Her dishwater blond hair was pulled back and secured at the nape of her neck. She was Quantico’s top female agent after me. I was glad she was there, but she wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. I wanted to be tough, buttoned-down, and unfazed, too, but it was hard to keep up that persona with my nursing bra unsnapped and smelling of baby vomit.