Chapter 28 - The Cannery at Point Judith
I didn't stop to pack the diaper bag. I snatched Leo, wrapped him in the heavy wool blanket from the bed, and jammed the station wagon keys into my pocket.
I didn't go through the front door. The motel room had a tiny frosted window in the bathroom that opened onto an overgrown drainage ditch running behind the property. I forced the rusted sash upward, wriggling through the narrow frame with Leo pressed flat against my stomach, dropping two feet into the icy mud and thorny briars below.
Through the fog, I saw the headlights of three black SUVs sweeping across the front doors of the motel. Men in dark tactical gear were already stacking up outside Room 14.
I scrambled along the muddy ditch, keeping low beneath the embankment until I reached the back edge of the parking lot where the blue wagon was parked beneath an unlit billboard.
I slid inside, slammed the door, and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life.
Tires spun against wet gravel as I floored the accelerator, rocketing out of the motel lot just as the front door of Room 14 was blown off its hinges with a dull, concussive boom.
I didn't head for the quarry. The quarry was compromised. If Ethan’s partner was corrupt, the airfield would be an ambush.
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Instead, I turned east, driving toward the jagged finger of Point Judith—an abandoned industrial peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic, home to an immense, decaying fish cannery that had stood empty since the late nineties. It was a labyrinth of rusted sheet metal, rotting piers, and cavernous warehouse floors where no vehicle could easily track us.
If they wanted Leo, they would have to come into the dark to get him.
