Prologue

PROLOGUE

M aeve was sure that she was being followed when she ran from her hotel room.

While she couldn't see the dark vehicle trailing her own, now a mere two car lengths behind her, she could sense that it was there; she felt its shadowy presence. Maeve knew that it was only a matter of time before it overtook her on this stretch of lonely highway. She glanced quickly into her rear-view mirror, first scanning the road for the bogeyman she knew was out there, and then to the other mirror strapped over the headrest of the backseat. It reflected the image of the infant in the carrier tucked safely into the rear passenger seat. Her daughter was fast asleep, unaware of the danger outside their door.

Don't worry, Daisy, she thought. I'll find a safe place for us to hide away.

Maeve was exhausted but had no time to dwell on it. She'd hadn't slept on the flight, long as it was, spending countless hours walking Daisy up and down the aisle to keep her from crying. The last thing she wanted was to be noticed; that would ruin everything. Taking the redeye insured that most of the other passengers were asleep and didn't see her pacing through the aircraft. She'd kept her auburn hair tucked under an indistinct baseball cap and wore the most benign outfit she could muster—black leggings, a black, baggy GAP sweatshirt, and a pair of Adidas Sambas. Her goal was to blend in, to look anonymous, and hopefully, to pass as an average American woman traveling home with her infant.

When Maeve left London after months of careful planning, she had hoped that she would land at JFK and disappear into the crowd. She'd had help obtaining a false passport for both her and for Daisy; a friend of a friend of her brother knew a man who traded in all sorts of illegally gained paperwork for a hefty price tag. In the last four months of her pregnancy, she'd trained hard with a dialect coach, working to erase any hint of her native, upper crust British accent, not wanting to give herself away. She had gone into hiding, staying out of sight of the ever-present paparazzi, moving around London constantly to keep her location secret and herself and her unborn child safe from harm. It hadn't been easy. If she didn't have her brother Finn's help, she could never have done it at all.

Once she cleared customs in New York, she had thought that she'd made it, that she was in the clear. The agent hadn't even looked closely at her or her daughter, who was strapped into a soft cashmere wrap across her chest and then tied around her waist. At least her baby's face, now nestled between her breasts, was hidden from view. He just stamped her passport, barely suppressing his own yawn before moving on to the next person in line.

Maeve had memorized what she was to do next; Finn had drummed the instructions into her head. She claimed her luggage as it traveled around on a squeaky rubber belt in the baggage area, popping open Daisy's pram once it appeared and balancing their bags across it. She had seen photographs of the outside of the airport and knew where the taxi stand was located; all she had to do was get there, give the driver an address on the Upper East Side of Manhattan and they'd be on their way. Gathering her breath, she pushed through the revolving door, careful not to topple the pram and get stuck in the exit. It was sunrise and the sky was a beautiful shade of pale lavender. The pastel tone gave Maeve hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd made it to the infamous land of the free, because freedom was all she ever really wanted. That, and a life without the worry that Daisy's father would find them and come claim his daughter. If that were to happen, Maeve knew that her own life would be over. Without her precious baby, she would not be able to go on.

As she made her way to the line of yellow cabs hugging the curb, she waited patiently for her turn to secure one for her ride into Manhattan. An older woman a few feet ahead caught sight of Maeve and said, "Would you like to go ahead of me? I mean, traveling alone with the baby can't be easy."

"You're not in a hurry?" Maeve asked, testing out her practiced, flat, Midwestern accent.

"Oh, no dear. I'm just going home. Besides, I'd hope that if my daughter-in-law was traveling alone with my grandson, that someone would do the same for her. Just putting that good vibe out into the universe."

"Thank you. I will go ahead of you then. Maybe I can get us to Manhattan before she wakes up." Maeve tilted her chin toward the cashmere wrap she wore. She was relieved that Daisy's face was still hidden from view.

She squeezed the pram by the kind woman on the narrow sidewalk, bumping into the stranger as she went by.

The woman reached out a hand. "Do you need some help, dear? She asked as she reached for one of Maeve's bags.

"So sorry and no, thank you," Maeve replied, a bit too sharply. She regretted her biting tone immediately but kept walking toward the waiting taxi. The driver stepped out to help her with the luggage. After she saw that all was secure in the boot of the car, she slipped into her seat and gave the driver the address, turned to offer a brief wave to the woman behind her before the car jerked forward and they were on their way. Thirty-five minutes later she was once again on a strange sidewalk, opening the door of a dark metallic gray Rav 4 fitted with Wisconsin plates. Finn had arranged for the vehicle to be safely parked there for her; he'd given her the fob the night before she left London. How he was able to purchase and register the car was still a mystery to her, but she was grateful for his many connections and that he'd remembered a safety seat for Daisy. She'd strapped the baby into the carrier, then walked behind the SUV and popped the tailgate open. She lifted the luggage and stowed it away, then folded the pram and lay it on top of the bags. Looking for oncoming vehicles, she gingerly stepped out, reminding herself that traffic here flowed differently than at home. Instead of looking right she looked left, and when the street was clear she quickly made her way to the driver's side and climbed into the seat. Turning the engine over, she plugged her destination into the navigation system, that address courtesy of Finn's network as well. She pulled out the burner phone he'd given her and sent the text he'd asked for, letting him know that she had arrived safely and was in the car on the next step of her journey. With a deep breath, she pulled into the northbound lane and began to make her way.

As the day went on, Maeve made as few stops as possible, resting only long enough to feed and change Daisy's diaper, watching the cities disappear behind her, feeling the road flatten under her wheels as she drove through the small towns in Connecticut, finally crossing the border into Massachusetts.

Once dusk dissolved into evening, she thought about where she was scheduled to stop for the night. She knew it was near Boston in a funny sounding place named Quincy. She made it into the hotel parking lot, unloaded only her essentials and checked in to her pre-paid room. She was looking forward to finally getting some sleep. Of course, Daisy had other plans. After a day of being confined in her car seat, the baby was thoroughly confused. She was wide awake, leaving Maeve no choice but to stay up with her.

Finally, at four thirty the next morning, Daisy fell asleep. Maeve hoped she'd catch a few hours of rest as well, but as she was about to get into the waiting bed, she was startled by the shadow she spied through the space under her hotel room's door. She quietly tiptoed to the peephole and peered into the hallway. There were two men there, each in a crumpled dark suit, deep in quiet conversation. She felt her heart race in her chest. Could she have been found? Think, Maeve, think. She forced herself to stay calm. She knew she needed an escape plan. Wait. That woman on the taxi line, the one who let her go ahead. Was she involved in this somehow? Had she followed them, tipping off the men in the hallway to where Maeve had taken Daisy? She was exhausted. None of her thoughts made any sense. But now, what was she to do?

Maeve needed to act, and act quickly. After a few minutes, she repacked the diaper bag and small soft duffle with their overnight clothing, throwing in her toiletries and what little else she'd brought into the room for the night's stay. Then she readied herself to run. She put the cloth carrier on, secured it and put her sleeping daughter back inside. Once her hands were free, Maeve picked up the bags, slung them over one arm and did the only thing she could do to cause a diversion and enough chaos to slip past the men in the hall. She grabbed a magazine from the dresser, the kind that hotels leave around, outlining all the fun activities in the local area, reached into her purse for a book of matches and lit one corner of the glossy paper until it flamed. Then she held it under the sprinkler in the room and waited for the fire alarms to sound.

It felt like forever before could cautiously open the door to her hotel room. She had stood inside the closet – the only place where she could keep both Daisy and her dry once the hotel's sprinkler system engaged – knowing that the two suspicious men would have left, not wanting anyone else to see them loitering around in the hallway. She understood just how these thugs worked, having had her run-ins with them while living in London. They never wanted to take a chance on having someone get a good look at them. All the better for them to remain anonymous, living in the shadows of normal everyday life.

Once she saw pajama clad patrons hurrying toward the staircase, she easily folded herself inside the crowd. She made it to the ground floor level and stepped through the emergency exit into the cool late-night air, spotted her car, and made a beeline to it. Quickly unlocking the doors remotely as she drew near, she first strapped Daisy into her seat, all the while trying to settle her own overworked heart.

Stay calm, she admonished herself. She could hear Finn's words echo through her brain: "If ever you're in a pinch, take it one simple step at a time. You know what to do. You'll be safe enough if you don't lose your head. Remember --if you find yourself in a pickle, just go slow." She took a calming breath just thinking about her brother's advice, imagining his steady voice, then she turned the engine on and slowly pulled out of the parking lot, careful not to bring any unwanted attention to herself. Fire trucks made their way up the opposite end of the driveway, lights blazing, sirens blaring as they came to put out the "fire" she'd left behind.

At first, she thought she might have been in the clear. She turned onto the near-empty highway and stayed within the speed limit, afraid of hidden policemen looking to fulfill their monthly quotas of speeding violations, hoping to stop some unsuspecting driver at this ungodly hour. Finn had warned her of these types of situations and had made her repeat a slew of instructions back to him before she'd left London. "Don't drive too fast, use the burner phone if she needed to reach him, stay on course, and follow the detailed route that would bring her to the border between the United States and Canada. Cross over and continue to Port Hope, a small town outside of Toronto." The safe house was there. Finn's people were there, ready to help her disappear. Once there, she could let go of the icy fear that gripped her very soul.

The headlights behind her seemed routine at first. After all, she wouldn't be the only person with a place to be as night morphed into day. But then they got closer, and closer still. Finally, she was able to make out two men in the front seat of the car behind her.

It was them! The men from the hallway of her hotel!

She no longer had a choice. She fully depressed the gas pedal, and immediately felt the SUV respond, pulling ahead and putting a bit of distance between her and the threat trailing her. Her brain was moving at the same speed as her vehicle, thoughts of what to do next flying across her mind at an unrelenting pace. Do something, do something, she repeated to herself. Then she saw the exit sign for Fenway Park. She didn't signal, she didn't switch lanes. She gripped the steering wheel as tightly as she could.

At the very last second, she turned it hard and took the ramp that led to the city streets. Looking quickly in her mirror, she knew that the men missed the exit, but

she didn't have time to feel relieved. She had underestimated the angle of the ramp; it was a much sharper turn than she'd anticipated. She could hear the screech of her wheels and could feel the SUV's tires take the curve too fast, lifting slightly off the pavement. For a minute, she thought the truck might turn over and she could feel the panic rise into her throat. Just when she had almost regained control, she misjudged her speed once more. A tree was rapidly coming into view, and she knew that unfortunately, she was going to hit it.

I'm so sorry Daisy, she thought .

She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable crash. She had no way to know that the only connection to her old life – the burner phone -- had fallen out of her bag as it hit the floor of the car and was jammed underneath the seat on impact, forgotten, and soon to be left behind for good.

What happened next was a blur. There was a man. He pulled her out of the vehicle. She could feel his strong arms around her body and wanted to crawl inside of his embrace. He gently lay her down on the street, hovering over her, telling her not to worry. She didn't want to worry, but then oh no , Daisy!

"The baby, the baby, please save my baby!" she implored in a voice that felt detached from her body. She watched as his eyes went to her midsection.

"No," she was able to whisper. "The car seat…"

She knew that he went around to open the rear passenger door and heard him say, "Your baby is fine. These things are designed for situations exactly like this."

"Thank God," was all she said before her lids fluttered shut.

The last thing she remembered was the understanding in his striking green eyes. Then everything went black.