Chapter 6 The Escape

# Chapter 6: The Escape

The small private airfield outside the city limits was shrouded in fog when we arrived. A single hangar stood illuminated at the far end, its lights cutting weakly through the mist. I parked behind the maintenance building as instructed, killing the headlights immediately.

"Are we there?" Emily asked sleepily from the back seat.

"Almost," I whispered, scanning the darkness. "Stay quiet for a few minutes, okay?"

I reached beneath my seat and removed the gun Victor had given me years ago—a precaution I'd never thought I'd need until now. The weight of it felt foreign in my hand, but I checked the safety and tucked it into my jacket pocket before stepping out of the car.

The night air was damp and cold against my face as I opened Emily's door. "Hold my hand and don't let go," I instructed, helping her out.

We moved silently across the tarmac toward the hangar, our footsteps muffled by the fog. Every shadow seemed threatening, every sound amplified by my heightened senses. This was the most dangerous moment—the transition point where we were neither Zoe and Emily Carter nor the people we were about to become.

A figure emerged from the hangar doorway. I tensed, my hand moving toward my pocket, but then relaxed as Victor's familiar silhouette became clear.

"You're late," he said quietly when we reached him. "The pilot's getting nervous."

"I had to visit Daniel at the hospital," I explained. "He's figured out some of it."

Victor's expression darkened. "How much?"

"Enough to be dangerous if he weren't incapacitated." I glanced down at Emily, who was watching our exchange with alert eyes despite her exhaustion. "Is everything ready?"

He nodded, leading us inside the hangar where a small twin-engine plane waited. A man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair was performing final checks on the aircraft.

"Mrs. Renner," Victor addressed me, using my new name for the first time. "This is Captain Schultz. He'll be flying you to Buffalo, where you'll cross into Canada by car."

I extended my hand to the pilot. "Thank you for taking this risk."

Schultz nodded curtly. "Victor saved my life once. I owe him." His eyes moved to Emily. "The little one will need to be brave. These small planes can be bumpy."

Emily straightened her shoulders. "I'm always brave," she said simply.

The pilot's weathered face softened slightly. "I can see that."

Victor handed me a manila envelope. "Everything you need is in here. Passports, birth certificates, driver's license. Bank accounts are set up in Zurich as discussed. The initial deposit has been made."

I took the envelope, feeling the weight of our new identities inside. "How can I ever thank you?"

He shook his head. "Don't thank me. Just live—really live. That's all I want for both of you." He knelt before Emily. "You take care of your mom, okay? She's the strongest person I know, but sometimes even strong people need help."

Emily nodded solemnly. "I will. I promise."

Victor embraced her briefly, then stood and pulled me into a tight hug. "I'll monitor things here," he murmured in my ear. "If anything changes with Daniel's condition or the investigation, I'll contact you through the arranged channel."

"Be careful," I whispered back. "If they trace anything to you—"

"They won't." He released me, his eyes determined. "I've been covering my tracks for forty years. This is no different."

The pilot approached. "We need to go now if we want to beat the weather system moving in."

Victor helped load our suitcases into the plane's small cargo hold while I settled Emily into her seat, securing her seatbelt.

"It's like an adventure, right?" I said, trying to keep my voice light.

She looked at me with those ancient eyes in her young face. "It's an escape," she corrected. "But that's okay. Sometimes escaping is the bravest thing."

From the mouths of babes. Again, my daughter's perception left me speechless.

After a final embrace with Victor, I climbed into the co-pilot's seat. The door sealed with a solid thunk, and suddenly it was real—we were leaving, disappearing into the night.

The engine sputtered to life, its vibration thrumming through the small cabin. Captain Schultz spoke into his headset, receiving clearance for takeoff. Victor stood in the hangar doorway, a solitary figure gradually obscured by fog as we taxied toward the runway.

"Ready?" Schultz asked, glancing at me.

I took a deep breath. "Ready."

The plane accelerated down the runway, pressing me back against the seat. As we lifted off, I felt a curious lightness—not just the physical sensation of flight, but something deeper. For the first time in years, I was moving toward something rather than away from something.

Emily's small hand reached between the seats to touch my arm. I turned to see her smiling—a real smile, not the careful one she'd worn throughout her childhood.

"We did it, Mom," she said, her voice barely audible over the engine noise.

We had done it. Against all odds, against Daniel's power and control, we had engineered our escape.

---

Three months later, I stood on the balcony of our lakeside apartment in Geneva, watching Emily feed the swans that gathered near the shore. Her French was improving daily, her integration into her new school smoother than I'd dared hope. Children are resilient in ways adults can only envy.

The morning newspaper lay on the table behind me, its headline still sending tremors through my carefully constructed calm: "AMERICAN ATTORNEY DANIEL CARTER RELEASED FROM HOSPITAL, FACES MULTIPLE FEDERAL CHARGES."

The photograph showed him leaving the hospital in a wheelchair, his left side still heavily bandaged, his once-handsome face partially disfigured by burn scars. The article detailed the mounting legal troubles facing him—embezzlement, tax fraud, and now questions about his connection to the explosion that killed Natalie Voss.

I'd followed his recovery from afar, using secure channels to access information Victor provided. Daniel had undergone multiple surgeries, with more scheduled. The doctors called his survival miraculous, but it was a hollow miracle—he had awakened to find his reputation destroyed, his career in ruins, and his wife and daughter vanished.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Daniel, who had controlled every aspect of our lives through fear and manipulation, was now helpless—physically damaged and legally cornered. The perfect accident had become the perfect justice.

My secure phone—the one used only for communications with Victor—vibrated in my pocket. The message was brief: "He's hiring investigators. Be careful."

I wasn't surprised. Daniel would never accept defeat, never stop hunting what he considered his possessions. But we were ghosts now, our trail cold, our new identities solid. Lisa and Sophie Renner existed only in the present, with no connections to Zoe and Emily Carter.

I watched as Emily—Sophie now—ran along the shoreline, her laughter carrying across the water. She'd started drawing again, not buildings in flames but landscapes and animals. Last week, she'd asked if she could take piano lessons. Small signs of healing, of a childhood reclaimed.

As for me, I was considering an offer from a private laboratory that specialized in forensic analysis for international clients. The director had been impressed by my knowledge during our interview, unaware that I'd once been among the best in the field before my identity was subsumed by marriage.

We were building something new here—not perfect, not without shadows, but ours. Every decision, every choice belonged to us alone.

That evening, as I tucked Emily into bed in our cozy apartment, she asked the question I'd been expecting for weeks.

"Do you think Daddy will find us?"

I brushed her hair back from her forehead, considering my answer carefully. "No, sweetheart. We've been very clever."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Because I like being Sophie. She's braver than Emily was."

"Emily was plenty brave," I corrected gently. "She just didn't know it yet."

After she fell asleep, I stood by her bedside, watching the peaceful rise and fall of her chest. Then I moved to the living room and opened my laptop, checking the secure email account one last time before bed. A new message from Victor contained a video file—security footage from the federal courthouse where Daniel had appeared for his arraignment that morning.

I hesitated before playing it, questioning my need to see him, to confirm that the danger was truly contained. But old habits die hard, and vigilance had kept us alive this long.

The footage showed Daniel being wheeled into the courthouse, reporters shouting questions. His attorney tried to shield him from the cameras, but for a brief moment, Daniel looked directly into the lens. Despite the scarring, despite the obvious physical pain, his eyes burned with the same cold intensity I remembered—the look of a predator, calculating, patient.

I closed the laptop, reminding myself that predators need to be close to strike. The Atlantic Ocean lay between us now, along with new identities, new lives carefully constructed to leave no trace.

That night, I dreamed of the explosion—not as it had actually happened, but as I had planned it. In my dream, I stood across the street, watching flames engulf the building, feeling nothing but a cold sense of completion. I woke with a start, the phantom heat of dream-flames still warming my face.

Emily stood in my bedroom doorway, her small figure silhouetted against the hall light.

"Bad dream?" she asked.

I nodded, making room for her beside me. She climbed into bed, nestling against my side as she had when she was younger.

"I have them too," she confessed. "But they're getting better."

"Mine too," I lied, pulling her close.

As she drifted back to sleep, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about perfect accidents and imperfect escapes. About the fine line between justice and revenge. About the parts of ourselves we leave behind and the parts we carry forward, no matter how far we run.

In the morning, we would continue building our new life—piano lessons and laboratory work, French classes and lakeside walks. We would smile at neighbors who knew nothing of our past. We would be Lisa and Sophie Renner, a mother and daughter with a future unmarred by fear.

"No more accidents," Emily murmured in her sleep, echoing a conversation I didn't recall having with her.

I kissed her forehead gently, whispering back, "Only the perfect ones."