Would Jacobs have a child? He hadn’t found any women’s clothing or women’s touches around the house. The bathroom only held male toiletries. Where was the child’s mother? Divorced? Again, Gerald wondered if he had the right house.

He pulled the cushions off the couch, unzipped them, and ripped the covers off. Nothing.

Damn it!

There was no landline, no computer, but there was a desk that looked like it was missing a laptop. A printer sat close by, and there were several bookshelves full of computer programming books. He marched back to the main bedroom and stared, letting his eyes travel the room. What had he missed?

He scanned the blank walls. Whoever lived here, lived like they’d never settled in.

He froze as the thought hit him. Or lived like they were ready to leave at a moment’s notice, without leaving a trail.

No papers, no pictures.

Satisfaction flowed through him; he was definitely standing in the right house.

This was the house of a shadowman. Who now had a son to hide.

Within fifteen minutes of seeing the Ghostman on his laptop, his heart racing, Chris had Brian packed in the truck. The sleepy boy leaned against the side rest of his booster, unable to keep his eyes open. He hadn’t asked a single question about being awakened in the middle of the night. Chris was always ready to travel light. Every item he owned had a mentally attached tag of “take” or “leave” on it. Everything he’d ever bought, he’d considered whether it’d be something he needed to abandon if he had to leave town fast or if the item was light and necessary to pack.

He didn’t say good-bye to Juan. The old man was a light sleeper and had surely heard them leave. Years ago, he’d briefly told Juan that someday, someone might come looking for him, but he kept details to a minimum. The old man easily read between the lines, and he knew Chris would run without stopping if he thought Brian was in danger.

Through numerous mental dry runs and the occasional real one, Chris had packing and vanishing down to a science. And now it was paying off. He and Brian had made long car trips south into Mexico, and he knew exactly where he wanted to go. There was a tiny, sleepy town on the western coast of Mexico. Life was slow, and the people seemed kind and not nosy. Not like here. The town gossips tried to stick their noses in his life every now and then, pretending concern for how he was raising his son. He’d considered making the move a few years ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the US. He’d lost almost everything. His parents, Brian’s mother. Living in the US was one of his last connections with his previous life.

Elena had shown him the small Mexican town. Her grandparents had lived there, and she’d visited often as a child.

Elena. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Her death had left a gaping wound in his heart. She’d been such an innocent. He’d fallen in love with her simple ways and immediate acceptance of his scars. She saw past them to who he was inside. Only she could calm his nightmares, and she brought him peace. He still felt that peace at times with his son. Brian was a little living piece of Elena.

He had a strong suspicion of what’d happened the night she died. Elena had been out of communication with her family for several years. Her brothers ran drugs, and violence surrounded their lives. She’d wanted nothing to do with it and had left. A few weeks before her accident, she’d finally been contacted by her oldest brother, who’d demanded that she return home. She’d refused. When the brother realized she was living with a man and had a child out of wedlock, he’d flipped. A strong Catholic, her brother increased the pressure.

That night, she’d gone to meet with her brother, the first time she’d seen him in three years. Chris didn’t believe her brother had harmed her in any way, but he’d known Elena was extremely upset by the visit. She’d called as she left her brother. Hysterical with tears, saying her brother had ordered her back to Mexico and called her a whore. Chris had made her hang up the phone because he wanted her to focus on driving.

Driving too fast? Possibly. Chris suspected her brother had been the one to see the accident first; perhaps he was driving behind her, following her after she ran out of their meeting. The next thing he knew, the sheriff was at his front door and Elena was gone. There’d been some tampering at the accident scene, which Chris suspected had been from the brother checking on Elena after the accident. She’d died instantly, according to the coroner. No immediate action could have saved her.

The brother had vanished. Chris hoped he lived with the vision of Elena’s death in his mind every day.

He’d never heard from her family. Their rejection didn’t bother him, but the idea that they’d rejected Brian as part of their family did. Not that he wanted his son to associate with criminals—or the man who possibly drove Elena to wreck her car—but every child needs to know they have extended family that cares.

Chris had Jamie. That was it.

Jamie was persistent about keeping in touch. But he ached for that larger circle of blood to call his own. His parents were gone. Wiped out in a single moment by a drunk driver. How ironic that the people he’d loved the most were all killed in car accidents. He forced himself to keep Jamie at arm’s length for her own good. And tonight was proving that he’d been right all along. Where he was, trouble would eventually follow. He had to keep moving.

He glanced at Brian in his rearview mirror. The boy’s mouth was open slightly, his black hair mussed from bed. Keeping Brian’s existence a secret from Jamie cut him deeply every day. But if she knew about his son, she’d force the two of them out into the open, where it was dangerous.