Stephen turned to his father. “Can he live with us, Dad?”

“Pretty please,” Ashlee chimed in.

“You’ve clearly never lived with Uncle Reyes. Uncle Reyes is scary. And he snores. Vete!” He shooed the kids inside and paused to take a good look at Uncle Reyes. His expression turned grave. “Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

Amador stood up slowly with Reyes’s arm draped over him. “I don’t remember this being part of the plan.”

“It’s her fault,” Reyes said, nodding toward me as I climbed out of Misery.

With a laugh, Bianca said, “I think he’s going to blame everything on you, Charley.”

“Figures.” I walked around the car. “Can I help?”

Reyes paused and looked at me as if surprised by the question. The lopsided grin he wore stopped my heart in my chest. I didn’t miss the appreciation shimmering in his eyes. Nor did I miss the silent exchange between Bianca and Amador, the hint of a smile on Bianca’s lovely mouth.

“Mamá, Mamá!” Ashlee bolted into the garage so fast, she almost knocked over Reyes and her father.

“Careful, mi’ja.” Bianca caught the excited child in her arms.

“There’s a policeman at the door.”

* * *

“Can I hold your gun?”

I thought I would pass out when I heard Stephen’s heartfelt plea. Reyes and I had been stashed in the laundry room in the hopes that the local officers were just collecting for the annual food drive. A night-light lit the small space, and the room smelled like wildflowers in spring.

“Mi’jo,” Amador said in a loving voice, “you know you can’t play with guns.”

“I just wanna hold it. I won’t play with it. I promise.”

A soft laugh penetrated the air. I could imagine Bianca’s nurturing smile. “Stephen,” she said softly, “the officer is trying to talk.”

The man cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we’re checking all known associates of Reyes Farrow.”

This was it. The kids would give away our position in a heartbeat. Like taking candy from a baby.

And here I stood, surrounded by piles of freshly washed laundry with an escaped felon for company. If the officer found us, I would look more like an accomplice than a hostage, cowering in the dark.

What in the supernatural afterlife was I doing? This was my chance. My big break. I could put an end to all this right here and now.

My hand took hold of the doorknob just as a long arm reached over my shoulder. Reyes braced his palm against the door and leaned over me from behind.

His breath fanned across my cheek as he spoke. “Forty-eight hours.” He whispered the words as the warmth from his body enveloped me. “That’s all I need,” he added.

The fact that I believed Reyes didn’t get anywhere near a fair trial pushed to the forefront of my thoughts. Maybe he deserved to escape, to live free. No one really knew what happened. Earl Walker’s death could have been an accident, or more likely, Reyes was defending himself against that monster. What was his escape to me?

And then the reason for my hesitation dawned, washing over me like a bucket of ice water. If he escaped from prison, if he was a fugitive, he would have to leave. He would have to go to Mexico or Canada or Nepal and live completely under the radar.

I would never see him again.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. He was waiting for an answer. “What do you mean?” I asked, pretending not to realize why he needed the time. Surely it took a while to get fake papers. Forged IDs weren’t easy to come by. “What can you possibly do in forty-eight hours?”

He leaned in closer, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “I can find my father.”

That got my attention. I turned to face him as quietly as I could. It wasn’t easy. He stood his ground, forced me to look up into his eyes. “I can find your father in about fifteen minutes.”

Raising his brows in interest, he questioned me with a tilt of his head.

“Sunset Cemetery—” I hitched a thumb over my shoulder in that general direction. “—and I doubt he’s going anywhere.”

A hint of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “If Dad’s at the cemetery,” he said in a teasing tone, “he’s visiting his late aunt Vera. Which is highly unlikely, because he really didn’t like her.”

I frowned, suddenly wishing I’d been granted access to his psych profile. “I don’t understand.”

He lowered his gaze to the floor, then closed his eyes with a sigh. “Earl Walker is alive,” he said almost reluctantly. After a long pause, he opened his eyes, a worried expression lining his face. “I went to prison for killing someone who is still alive, Dutch.”

That was impossible. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe him. The medical examiner had identified the body. Because it had been burned, they had to use dental records. But there was a positive match. In the transcripts, Reyes himself had identified his father’s class ring, which had been found on the body’s charred ring finger.

Reyes had to be mistaken … or … or what? Crazy?

The doubt must have shown in my eyes. With a sigh of resignation, he lowered his head and stepped back. Was he letting me go? Could it be that simple?

Then he looked up, the dark determination back in his expression, and I realized the answer to my questions would be a resounding no. If he hadn’t convinced me of the lengths he was willing to go to get what he wanted yet, his next statement certainly did.