Chapter 13 - The Safehouse and the Burner Phone
The safehouse was a modest, nondescript two-bedroom ranch tucked away in a gated county park reserve twenty miles outside the city limits. It smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and old carpet, but it had heavy steel-reinforced doors and secure window locks.
Detective Hayes helped us settle in before placing a black, heavy-duty burner phone on the kitchen table.
“Keep this phone with you at all times, Mrs. Miller,” Hayes instructed, pressing his finger against the edge of the device. “Speed dial one is my direct cell. Speed dial two connects straight to the federal marshal on duty. Do not open the door for anyone unless they give you the daily passcode.”
“What is the passcode?” I asked.
“Aurora,” he said quietly. “If anyone knocks and doesn't say that word, you lock yourself in the back bathroom and call dial two immediately. Understood?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “How long do we have to stay here?”
“Until Elena Vance is arraigned and her digital network is completely dismantled,” Hayes said grimly. “She’s slippery, Mrs. Miller. She’s spent five years laundering millions through phantom identities. Don't underestimate what she’ll do to protect her tracks.”
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After Hayes stepped outside to join his partner in the patrol car parked out back, I tucked Lily into the twin bed in the guest room. Within ten minutes, exhausted by the emotional turbulence of the day, she was fast asleep, her breathing deep and even.
I walked back out into the dim kitchen, pulled out the burner phone, and stared at the blank screen. My entire life had imploded in less than twelve hours. My husband was a felon, my home was a crime scene, and a federal fugitive was out there somewhere in the dark.
