Chapter 5 - The Clean Slate
We didn't go back to the street.
Victor led us through a hidden drainage pipe that ran from the bottom of the gravel pit directly to the riverbank, half a mile away. There, hidden beneath a canopy of wild willows, was a small, grey zodiac boat with an electric outboard motor that made no more noise than a whisper.
We got in.
The river was calm, its water reflecting the pink and gold of the late afternoon sky as the sun began to set behind the ridge. In the distance, a column of thick, black smoke was rising from the direction of our neighborhood. My house. My kitchen. The place where I had spent twelve years building a life that had never belonged to me.
I didn't cry. The tears had dried into a stiff, salty crust on my cheeks, leaving my skin feeling tight and cold.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked, looking at Victor as he steered the boat through the reeds.
"A farm in Vermont," he said. "The deed is in your maiden name. The money from the Swiss account has already been transferred to a secure trust for the children. You’ll have a new life, Clara. A real one."
"And Mark?"
"He won't follow you," Victor said, his eyes fixed on the river ahead. "The agency doesn't keep agents who fail their containment protocols. By tonight, his credentials will be deleted from the server. He’ll be a ghost without a grave."
I looked down at Lily and Noah.
Lily was holding her bare foot, her small toes curling against the cold rubber of the boat floor. Noah was still asleep, his head resting on my lap, his breathing steady and slow.
They were safe. The poison had been purged.
A soft splash came from the water behind us.
May you like
I turned around slowly, expecting to see the black SUV on the bridge, or a figure standing on the riverbank.
There was nothing. Just a small, plastic toy—a little blue duck that Noah had left in the bath this morning—floating on the surface of the river, drifting slowly toward the sea as the valley went down into the dark.
