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only be small-minded attempts to unnerve him, unbalance him. He was done with both.

He carried the envelope with him to the bathroom off his study, closing the door behind him and standing in front of the mirror while staring down. He'd never had the penmanship analyzed. Instead, he'd begun looking into the backgrounds of those around him who might bear him ill will, have a grudge to settle, feel the need to turn the tables for a grievance mistakenly held.

He'd also looked into church members on the fringe, which had led him straight to the Mitchells. He no longer believed they had moved their family to Earnestine Township for the salvation of their children's souls. He believed, instead, that they had come here for him.

They'd been in San Francisco, he'd discovered, when his parents had died. Liberty's mother had even been a member of the high school class that had graduated the year ahead of his. The couple had been in all the right places at all the right times to know what had happened in the church sanctuary that day. To know about the knife, the murders. To know the secrets Holden still kept.

He looked into the mirror, shocked at his ashen face, at the mustache of sweat covering his upper lip. And then he remembered the girl upstairs. If her parents actually believed him capable of killing, then having Liberty out of their control and under his made her more than a pawn.

It made her his plum, his wild card, the surest guarantee he could possibly hope for that they would never breathe a word of what they suspected he'd done.

He dropped the unopened envelope into the white bag lining the wicker trash can, and then shed his clothes and stepped into the shower stall. He had a wedding to prepare for; that was the only thing on his mind.

At least until he reached for the controls to turn on the water and swore he heard his car start up outside.

Liberty never thought she'd be so thankful as she was now that her best girlfriend in California, Jill Kramer, had taught her to drive a stick. She'd made it from the driveway to the street, from reverse into first, without squealing tires or grinding gears. Now she prayed she could get out of Earnestine without anyone seeing her in Holden's car.

Thankfully it was Saturday. Most everyone in the township was home studying up on their Scriptures, ironing their church clothes, getting all the grub together for tomorrow's big Sunday evening supper on the grounds. No, thanks. She'd had enough green bean casserole and marshmallow Jell-O salad for one lifetime.

Thankfully, too, Holden didn't live anywhere near the church or township offices. In fact, he lived on one of the back streets closest to the city limits. After seeing his place, it wasn't hard to figure out why. She knew he wasn't a big part of the religious scene in town, but wondered if he had any guilt over the way he spent the money the church and the township paid him.

Especially when they were paying him to preserve their way of life—one he didn't even have a stake in. The plans he'd shared with her last night, describing his new house— no, their new house—definitely had her drooling. But being married to a man who needed her to make himself look good to a church he didn't even believe in was not her idea of a good time.

"Hypocrite," she muttered under her breath, the car's RPMs up high enough now that she needed to shift into third. She wasn't about to drive fast; she didn't even have a license. And she was really glad the windows were tinted as dark as they were; her chances of being noticed were pretty slim. All she had to do was figure out where to go and what to do once she got there. Oh, and how to get rid of the car.

God, she could not believe she was in so much trouble! All of it her own fault for being stupid enough to trust Holden the way she'd trusted Jase. There had never been any hope she'd make her eighteenth birthday and still be single. She saw that now.

She also knew the decision that had saved her was saying yes when Holden suggested she spend the night at his house and they visit her parents later as husband and wife. Make it a dual surprise, he'd said. Her safe return, and the best match she could possibly make.

She'd agreed, but only because it gave her time to wiggle her way out of this jam. Had she gone straight home, she would never have escaped the eternal hell of being married to Cal Able. Her parents would not have let her out of their sight. She couldn't imagine what objection they might have to her marrying Holden Wagner, but she hadn't been willing to take that chance.

So she'd closed herself up in his guest room, trying not to sleep though she eventually had, then listening this morning, waiting for him to shower or cook breakfast, or anything that would keep him distracted and busy while she slipped out of the upstairs window, down the sloped rooftop, then onto the top of the tall cedar fence.

She had horrible scratches and slivers in both of her elbows and a scrape on her cheek, burning now from the tears running over the raw skin. She could hardly see to drive. She was so nervous, her hands shook on the wheel, her foot kept slipping off the accelerator. And she was almost out of gas. There was really only one place she could go.

She only hoped this time Neva believed that she was truly on the run for her life.

The morning for Neva hadn't gone particularly well. She'd accomplished a lot of work with Mick's help, true. But it had been a test of her mental agility trying to focus in order to process new

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