to be looking for him soon, lots of people around there knew him on sight, too.
Reaching for his wallet, he wished the police had seen fit to return his cell phone so he could at least call for help. He ducked into a drugstore to buy sunglasses and whatever else he could find that would alter his appearance. He was paying for the glasses and waiting for the clerk to cut off the tag when he spied the answer to his unspoken prayers.
A young man wearing a tattered red St. Louis Cardinals jacket and cap stepped up behind him at the register with a bottle of soda in hand.
“A hundred bucks for the jacket,” Dylan said, flashing a bill as proof and shucking his navy-blue blazer.
The youth began to grin. “Twenty more gets you my hat, too.”
“Done.” Dylan handed over the money as well as his own expensive coat and tie. “Here. Take these. I won’t need them.”
“How about my shoes?” the guy asked.
Dylan ignored him and told the salesclerk, “Keep the change,” donning the silky red jacket as he raced for the door. By the time he was outside he had put on the sunglasses and pulled the bill of the cap low over his forehead.
Now what? He knew he should immediately hail a cab and return to the authorities so they wouldn’t think he was trying to pull a fast one and get away from them.
Yes, he would go back. Soon. But there was something even more important to do first. He had to talk to Grace in person. To explain why he’d done what he’d done—and how he was determined to make amends. Somehow.
Granted, it probably wouldn’t make any difference to her at this point, particularly because he’d have to tell her he’d been in police custody, as well. Yet he desperately wanted her to know how penitent he was and that he was already aiding the authorities as best as he could.
That kind of truth had to be conveyed face-to-face, Dylan decided. There was no way he could ever convince Grace of his change of heart over the phone. Even looking straight into her eyes was no guarantee of success. But he had to try. He simply had to. Her opinion of him mattered more than anyone else’s and if he waited until after he’d turned over the flash drive he might not get that chance to speak with her privately.
Lacking an available taxi, he boarded a bus and took a seat. Just as the driver was pulling away from the curb, several more security guards burst from his office building and gathered on the sidewalk, talking into handheld radios and gesturing as if making plans for his capture. They might not know why he’d visited the office but they certainly seemed upset about it, meaning that someone must have an idea what he was after, despite not being aware of his secret files.
Dylan lowered his head to hide beneath the bill of the cap and used his hand to block the rest of his face.
His kids would be getting out of school soon and Grace would take Brandon with her to pick up Kyle and Beth. It was the only time he could be certain of catching her away from home—and away from the authorities who probably already had the family home under surveillance since he’d just given them the slip.
Gripping the back of the seat in front of him he watched the downtown pass and the suburbs begin. Almost there. Almost to his Gracie.
The thought of her pet name sobered him even further. He’d tried to be a good husband, yet his efforts had never seemed sufficient. It was just like when he was growing up. There was never enough of anything. Dylan had vowed that that would never happen to his family and it had not.
What about now? His jaw clenched. Now, his greatest desire was to stay out of jail—and to see that his loved ones were safe and well cared for. Even if his efforts to make amends were going to place him in jeopardy, he was certain his family would be safe. After all, he was no longer living at home or taking an active part in their daily lives so there was no reason for anyone to bother them, other than perhaps the police.
If he hadn’t been positive that God had given up on him long ago, he might even have closed his eyes and prayed for divine help. It was hopelessness, and well-deserved guilt, that stopped him.
* * *
Grace parked in the shade across from the school and released her three-year-old from his booster seat. His pudgy little arms encircled her neck and he hugged her tightly, inadvertently pulling her long red hair as she lifted him.
“Ouch,” Grace said with a smile and a toss of her head. “Easy, big boy.”
“I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, too, Brandon. Just try not to pull Mama’s hair, okay?”
“Okay.” He leaned back and pointed. “There’s Beth.”
“I see her.” Toting her youngest, Grace crossed to the lawn in front of the elementary school where they joined her daughter. “Have you seen Kyle?”
“Nope.” Beth reached into her pink backpack and pulled out a handful of papers. “I got an A in spelling. And look what I drew.”
“Very nice, honey.”
“It’s me and you and Daddy and the boys,” the girl said proudly. “See? I gave Kyle an ugly face ’cause he’s always so mean.”
Grace did her best to ignore the child’s telling portraits. Not only was the family still complete in her daughter’s eyes, she’d noted the chip on Kyle’s shoulder.
It wasn’t hard to spot her eldest. His red hair stood out like a lit traffic flare at an accident scene when he left the main building and started in her direction. Then he paused, pivoted and ran right up to a total stranger.
The man crouched to embrace the boy, setting Grace’s nerves on edge and causing her to react immediately. She grabbed Beth’s hand and pulled her along while still balancing Brandon on one hip.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
The figure stood in response to her challenge. The brim of a cap and dark glasses masked his eyes, yet there was something very familiar about the way he moved, the breadth of his shoulders, the faint shadow of stubble on his strong chin.
Grace gaped. It couldn’t be. But it was.
“Dylan?”
He placed a finger against his lips. “Shush. Not here. We need to talk. Where’s your car?”
“Across the street. Why? Where’s yours?”
“I took a bus. It’s a long story.”
When he removed the glasses, Grace was startled to glimpse an unusual gleam in his eyes, as if he might be holding back tears—which, of course, was out of the question, knowing him.
“If you want to speak to me, you can do it through my lawyer the way we agreed.”
Dylan replaced the glasses and spoke decisively. “This has nothing to do with our divorce. It’s much more important than that.”
Grace’s first reaction was disappointment, followed rapidly by resentment. “What could possibly be more important than our marriage and the future of our children?” She knew her raised voice was attracting attention but she didn’t care. “This is precisely why I filed for divorce, Dylan. You have always put other things ahead of your family. Why can’t you see that?”
“I’m beginning to realize that my priorities need adjustment, but that’s not why we have to talk. In private.”
“What could you possibly have to say to me that can’t be said right here?” She knew her husband well enough to tell that he was struggling with something and, in spite of her anger, she felt a twinge of pity.
“Let me put it this way, Grace,” Dylan said quietly, cupping her elbow and leaning closer. “You can either come with me and listen to what I have to say or get ready to save a bunch of money because you probably won’t have to pay your divorce attorney.”
“Why