?Chapter 409:


    She shot back, “Then maybe you should bring Miss Lawson along instead.”


    William barely missed a beat. “She’s safer at home.”


    Ste nearlyughed. Did he think every woman but her was delicate and breakable? Willow didn’t look very “fragile” when she was parading around as his fiancée.


    The car took them through rough, winding mountain roads.


    When they could drive no further, Ste hopped out and gged down a beat-up tricycle, not missing a step.


    They pulled up to the victim’s house—and her stomach dropped. The front door was wide open. The ce looked ransacked.


    She didn’t even hesitate. She sprinted inside, checking every corner of the wrecked house. No one was inside.


    She let out a shaky breath. Maybe they had made it out in time.


    Still, a gnawing panic stayed with her. She immediately dialed the daughter’s number again.


    The line rang… then cut off.


    Her worry spiked.


    William, watching her closely, stepped in. “Try sending a message.”


    Right. Text. She quickly typed out a message. “I’m here in the vige. Where are you?”


    A few momentster, the reply came. “We’re hiding in town. Nixon’s men are still looking for us.”


    Town? Her brows furrowed.


    William had already seen the message over her shoulder.


    He turned to walk ahead, then looked back at her. “Come on.”


    “You know where to go?” she asked, surprised.


    Wasn’t this his first time here?


    He kept walking. “No.”


    He didn’t know, but he could ask.


    William asked around at a nearby house and got rough directions from an olddy.


    He turned back to Ste. “We’ll need a tricycle. She said it’s about ten minutes from here.”


    Ste didn’t even wait for the rest of the exnation. She took off ahead of him. “Then what are we standing around for? Let’s move!”


    William watched her storm ahead and sighed, shaking his head with a trace of helpless amusement.


    The town they arrived in wasn’t much better than the remote vige they’d just left—dusty roads, patched-up storefronts—but at least it had real pavement and signs of life.


    Since Finley’s daughter said Nixon’s men were still snooping around nearby, Ste didn’t waste time. She dragged William into a tiny clothing shop without warning.


    “We’ll take two sets,” she told the owner, already scanning the racks.


    She yanked a loud, tropical-print shirt off the hanger and shoved it into William’s hands.


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