What would she say or think if she knew what went on in Olivia? It wasn’t like her record was without blemish. The more Phil got to know Taylor, the more he knew that they were in many ways cut from the same cloth. Maybe that’s what bothered him the most. Eric accepted everything as part of his job, part of his responsibility. He rarely questioned. Phil knew that Taylor would want to know more. If the roles were reversed, he’d want more. After three weeks of wondering if he’d made the right decision, Phil still didn’t know. That contrary was something new. Never in the past had he second-guessed himself.

Phil turned his chair away from Taylor and watched the monitors. They were on a random feed from all around the estate. Since he’d taken over security, the cameras were more advanced than they had been. The new house also had fewer cameras within the rooms. The first floor was fully accessible to surveillance, even the Rawlingses’ office. That had been a point of contention with Rawlings when Phil first took over security, but Phil reminded him that the recorded conversation in his old office was the key to his innocence. They compromised. The office feed was only accessible with the proper dual code. Only Claire and Rawlings had access-to-one half of the code. Therefore, the office would only be reviewed if one of the Rawlingses and a member of the security team were both in agreement. The lawns, gardens, pool, playground, and all of the outside grounds were constantly monitored. The capability was present for the front gate to be either physically or remotely manned. No one could access the estate without being admitted and recorded.

Phil closed his eyes and remembered.

Patricia’s eyes filled with tears. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re leaving here. Say goodbye to Melissa Garrison.”

Phil pulled the gun from his pocket. Pointing it toward Patricia, he said, “You have two minutes.” In her left hand, she held tightly to her cell phone. He nodded toward it. “Place that on the table. Go. Get whatever you’d grab to leave. If you have cash hidden, I recommend you take it now. You’re not coming back.”

“I-I don’t have—”

“You do,” he said, “in the cupboard in the bathroom. Go now.”

She moved slowly, deliberating each word he’d said. Placing the phone down, she turned. “How do you know about the money?”

“Ms. Miles, I know much more than you’d think. I’ll explain it more once we’re gone.”

Suddenly, she walked briskly toward her bedroom. When Phil heard the door shut, he shook his head and followed. Though it was locked, the small key-like object rested predictably above the jamb. Entering the room, he found Patricia trying unsuccessfully to open the window. “It’s an old house,” he said calmly. “The windows have been painted too many times. Don’t be stupid. I’m not alone. Get the cash, some shoes, and a jacket.” He looked at his watch. “You now have one minute.”

“I’m not getting my money. If you’re going to kill me anyway, I’m not giving you my cash.”

“Fifty seconds, and I assure you, I don’t want or need your money. You will. Get it now.”

With ten seconds to spare, they stepped from the side door into the night air. “Lock the house,” Phil demanded.

She looked at him with the unspoken questions.

“It needs to look as if you’ve disappeared of your own volition. Locking the door is something you always do.”

Nodding, she placed the key in the lock; however, as she started to move toward the carport, Phil reached for her elbow and redirected her toward the driveway. “No, Ms. Miles, we have a ride.”

Taylor’s hand rested upon Phil’s shoulder pulling him from his thoughts and causing him to jump. As he turned he expected to see anger in her blue eyes; instead, it was sadness.

“Tell me. You need to talk.”

“Ms. Walters, I assure you—”

Taylor leaned back against the desk. “Don’t. I’m not asking you because I feel left out. I’m asking you because I see the anguish. I see you rubbing your neck and rolling your head from side to side. I’ve seen the way you watch the cameras and front gate. I know you come in here in the middle of the night and review footage.”

Phil started to protest. She had no right to spy on him. Yet before he could articulate the proper response, she continued talking.

“I know you take this job and this family personally.” Leaning forward, she said, “I get it. I know about your family.”

Phil’s shoulders snapped back. “I don’t have a family.”

“You’ve called the Rawlingses your family more than once. I know about your blood family.”

“Don’t!” His volume rose as he sprung from his chair. “Forget whatever you think you know. My private life isn’t open for discussion.”

Taylor stood taller. “We all get into this line of work for different reasons. I understand that you weren’t there for them.” She reached out and touched his chest. The warmth of her fingers radiated through the material, scorching his skin below. When Phil stepped back, Taylor went on, “You were thousands of miles away on a godforsaken tour.”

“Korea,” he said, swallowing any emotion. “I was stationed in South Korea. The eighties were a turbulent time. Kim Jong II was in power in North Korea; the tension was building between North Korea and the rest of the world. There were problems with Gorbachev…”