Susan went to the window and gazed out at the drizzling rain, listening to the tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway that reminded her time was running out. In exactly ten minutes, she would walk out the door and disappear with a stranger to an unknown destination. And finally, be able to escape her husband, Blaine, the man who had terrorized her for five long years. She repeatedly looked over her shoulder, expecting him to appear at any moment.

Susan gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror with scrutiny. Her lips were tight, and she had dark circles under her eyes, giving her the appearance of a woman much older than thirty-two. Sleep-deprived for days, knowing this moment was going to come. In her mind—she’d left two years ago after she found out about Blaine’s affairs. She took a deep breath, tunneled her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair, and applied lip gloss. Her fingers trembled as she removed her wedding rings and placed them on the sink.

She glanced at her watch. It was 1:57 p.m.—time for her date with destiny. The stranger had merely been a voice on the phone that gave her explicit instructions, but now it was time to act. Susan looked around one last time at her familiar surroundings, and a pang of sadness hit her hard. An unread book lay on her nightstand. She picked it up and stuffed it in her carry-on bag. Somehow, it gave her comfort.

Run, Susan, run, the voice in her head whispered. She grabbed her belongings and ran down the steps and out the door. The door slammed shut behind her. The air smelled like burning leaves; leaves she had raked and burned yesterday. She ran as fast as she could down the paved driveway to the country road, her bags swinging and brushing against her faded blue jeans. The gray herringbone sweater that she’d thrown on over her white shirt seemed too warm even on this crisp autumn day.

Susan tried to convince herself not to look back, but she could not resist one last glance. The large, two-story brick country house set in the middle of an expansive, well-landscaped yard was her childhood home. Her mind flooded with memories—the screened-in porch where she’d spent many happy hours quilting and working on scrapbooks. The wood stacked neatly at the back corner of the house, ready for winter—wouldn’t be needed. It looked peaceful, like a well-kept country estate. No one would guess it was a home where a former Navy Seal had terrorized her for years, using every psychological trick in the book to destroy her. All she wanted was to distance herself from the house and Blaine. She no longer cared about material things: her quilts, her pottery collection, her expensive dinnerware. These things didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that she stay alive. She was sad to leave her family albums but had tucked away a picture of her parents in her bag.

When she was halfway down the driveway, a crow shrieked, sending a jolt through her body. She craned her neck, looking down the gravel road for signs of the stranger. Hope sprang when she caught a glimpse of a black car traveling at breakneck speed, leaving a trail of dust behind.

At precisely two o’clock, a black SUV pulled in front of the driveway. Susan took a deep breath, opened the car door, and peered anxiously inside. She was relieved at his appearance. He had short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a day’s worth of beard that made him look ruggedly attractive. The man wore a black sports jacket, tan pants, and a white shirt open at the collar. He had broad shoulders and looked like a man who could handle himself.

“Put your bags in the back and get in,” he said in a deep, masculine voice.

Susan didn’t notice the red glove that fell from her sweater pocket. She quickly threw her bags in the back seat, glanced over her shoulder, and climbed into the vehicle.

Susan tensed as he roared away. As she settled into the leather seat, her thoughts began running rampant. She stared fixedly ahead at the windshield wipers going back and forth. The swishing sound broke the uncomfortable silence as reality set in. A psychic, a tarot card reading, and her gut feeling had all established that she needed to leave on this particular day, at this set time. It was the craziest thing she had ever done in her life. She had never acted on impulse and had always thought everything out.

“Hello, Susan,” he said, glancing at her, his dark eyes friendly.

“Hello,” she answered, her voice shaking.

“You’re trembling,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Susan choked. “My husband is a mad man. He’ll kill us both. You’re taking a big risk.” And then she repeated it. “He’s a mad man. No one would believe me except the psychic.”

The fear in her voice was convincing. “I believe you,” Derrick said, not taking his eyes off the road. “That’s why I’m here.”

They were traveling at high speed, and the rain was falling in sheets. He turned up the wipers and the headlights.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said with an admiring glance.

“Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? If you’re not afraid, you need to be. My husband is a heartless murderer. He killed his first wife, and if we don’t get the hell out of this town, he’ll track me down and kill us both. I have no doubts.”

“Relax,” he said, his voice even and calm.

She looked out the window and realized they were approaching the interstate. It wasn’t likely that Blaine would be in this area. She breathed easier.

“Where are we going?” she asked, hoping it was somewhere far away.

“Las Vegas. There’s a charter plane waiting. I’m taking you home with me.”

“Home with you?” Susan asked, not understanding. “There’s been a mistake. The psychic didn’t say anything about this. She told me she was sending you to help me escape. Drop me at any gate at the airport. I’ll be fine.”

“Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Derrick Hampton. I’m a former FBI Special Agent. I retired from the FBI last year, but I still teach classes to Special Agents at the FBI Academy in Virginia. I live in Las Vegas. I’m a professional gambler. The psychic, Mary Madison, is a good friend of mine. I’ve consulted with her throughout the years about cases that were difficult to solve.”

Susan shot him a look of suspicion. “Is this an FBI Charter plane? The last thing I need is to have the FBI involved.”

“It has nothing to do with the FBI. I’m a whale. The plane belongs to a friend.”

Susan looked at him with narrow eyes. She didn’t know anything about gambling, but she thought whale meant he gambled large amounts of money; she vaguely remembered reading something about it. Susan eyed the massive square diamond ring on his finger and thought it must be worth thousands. She glanced at her own French manicured nails, her fingers naked without jewelry. Naked but free.

Susan knew Derrick was waiting for an answer. She twisted her hands nervously. “There’s been a misunderstanding,” she lied. “I’m catching a plane to Alaska. I plan to start a new life there.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Susan could tell that he knew she was lying.

She glanced at him skeptically. “Why did you come?”

“Mary explained your situation, and I was intrigued…a librarian from a small town in Ohio married to a psychopath. It sounded like a Stephen King novel. I had to come—maybe I’ll write a book.” He paused. “How well do you know Mary?”

“Not well. Mary’s given me a few tarot card readings. After my best friend Shelly died, something inexplicable happened. Shelly knew about Blaine and the abuse. Two weeks after Shelly died, I put some clothes away in Blaine’s closet, and a shoebox fell off the shelf. There was a journal in the shoebox with a complete description of how Blaine had murdered his first wife, Carol. He threw her overboard on a cruise. I panicked and called Mary.”

Susan hesitated, hoping Derrick wouldn’t think her irrational. “Mary did the tarot cards, and the Death card came up. It’s a bad omen. I didn’t want to believe that Blaine would do something so heinous. I think Blaine knew that I’d found the shoebox because he started acting weird. I put a recording device on the phone and overheard him talking to his cousin about digging a grave in a wooded area of his land. And then it hit me that the grave was for me. Mary did another tarot card reading and told me that the Death card had come up again, along with other cards that indicated that I was in grave danger, and I needed to leave on the 29th. When I told her that was my anniversary, she said that was the day the Grim Reaper would come. I could hear her over the phone shuffling the cards, asking questions. Finally, she told me that the planets would line up on the 29th, but for only a few hours. It would give me enough time to escape. Susan paused to catch her breath. “I was terrified. I thought I should leave a day earlier. But Mary told me it had to be the 29th. She told me she would send someone.” She looked at Derrick pointedly. “Now, tell me the truth. Why did you come?”

There was a long silence. Susan’s brain began to explode with thoughts once again, trying desperately to make sense of the situation. Was it possible that Blaine had set the whole thing up just to entrap her? People didn’t risk their lives to save someone from a psychopath because they were intrigued. Derrick was much too relaxed and reeked of wealth. Even his cologne smelled expensive, though she didn’t know what it was. He didn’t look like the kind of man who visited charlatans. But then again, you couldn’t tell by looking. She’d read that presidents’ wives had sometimes consulted with psychics and astrologers: Mary Todd Lincoln and Nancy Reagan. Her intuition told her that Derrick was here for something more than to help her escape.

“I should explain. I usually don’t go to psychics. My wife died suddenly six months ago, and I’ve been trying to contact her.” He glanced at her as if to gauge her reaction.

“You seem young to lose your wife,” she said suspiciously.

“I’m older than I look. My wife, Jenny, had a heart defect. We had no idea. We were in New York to see a Broadway play, and she had a heart attack. She passed away in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been horrible for you. Do you have children?”

“No. Jenny didn’t want children. She was career-oriented. She sold real estate—multi-million-dollar homes. She also liked to buy and sell art.” He sighed. “Jenny’s death was sudden—so many things were left unsaid. I knew Mary. I went there three times for séances. I don’t know if I contacted my dead wife or not, but I think I did, and I felt better afterward. It gave me a sense of closure.”

Susan nodded. He was traveling at a swift speed and had covered a lot of miles in a short time. They would be at the airport soon. She crossed her arms, hugging herself against the chill of the unknown, nervous at the idea of going to a stranger’s home. He’d probably researched her background and knew everything about her, but she knew nothing about him. She was having second thoughts about the situation.

“Look, you’re not obligated to help me, and I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I didn’t expect you to charter an airplane, and I certainly didn’t expect to go home with you. Drop me at any terminal.”

“Any terminal? I thought you were going to Alaska?”

“It doesn’t matter where I go. Blaine is a former Navy Seal. He can track me. I’ll be running from Blaine for the rest of my life. I know he’ll find me eventually, and he’ll kill me, just like he killed Carol,” Susan sighed, feeling the weight of her future crushing down on her.

“It sounds like you’ve already given up. You’re young—you have your whole life ahead of you. If I took you to the airport, you would have to go through security, and your husband could easily track you.” His voice was level and calm. “If you go with me on my charter, we fly to Las Vegas, and in four hours, we’ll be grilling steaks and having wine at the pool. You can go for a dip after dinner.”

She shoved loose tendrils of hair away from her face nervously, feeling unraveled. Living with a psychopath for five years had made her distrustful. “I don’t think you’re simply looking for material to write a book. I have to wonder why you would come all the way across the country to help a stranger. I have nothing to give you.”

Derrick glanced at her. “Are you always so suspicious? Mary asked me to help you, so I’m here. I don’t want anything from you.” He weaved in and out of traffic. “If I’m going to help you, you need to trust me.”

“Trust isn’t something I give away freely. People have to earn trust,” Susan said, her voice sharper than she meant. “I’m in a survival mode—running away from a psychopath. I have to get a job and start a new life. And you’re saying let’s have steak and wine at the pool. I can’t think about food—my stomach is churning.”

Her eyes moved to his face for a reaction to her outburst, but his expression was calm and seemingly unconcerned. There was something solid about him that she found attractive. Susan looked out the window; everything raced by in a blur. She glanced at the speedometer and saw that he was going eighty miles per hour.

“Did you mean it about Stephen King being your favorite author?” she asked. “I mean, he writes some pretty controversial stuff—some of it is downright twisted.”

“Does anyone have a normal life? You’re running away from a psychopath who you believe murdered his first wife; how twisted is that?”

“And your life?” she asked with a question in her eyes. “Is it twisted?”

“It depends on how you look at it. Losing my wife was the most traumatic thing that ever happened to me. I admit that I’m a little obsessive-compulsive. I put the cap on the toothpaste and hang up my towel after I use it, even though I know my housekeeper is going to throw it in a pile with the rest of my dirty clothes and wash it the next day.”

Susan quietly analyzed what he had said. Derrick had a way with words. He’d revealed nothing genuine. He said he’d suffered trauma from his wife’s death. Everyone suffered trauma from an unexpected death. She didn’t care that he put the cap on his toothpaste or that he hung up his towel. She needed something more, something of substance to make her trust him.

Derrick seemed to know what she was thinking. “I have a dog,” he chirped. “A cute little Pekingese. Her name is Ruffy.”

A smile curled at Susan’s lips. Relief flooded through her. A guy like him with a cute little dog didn’t seem like a threat. I’m not going to Alaska. But she needed to make things clear.

“This is for one night,” she said. No strings attached. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Of course, no strings attached. I hope I didn’t alarm you by telling you about Jenny.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“Did you follow my instructions?” he asked.

“Yes. I left a note on the table telling Blaine I was leaving. And I wrote a letter to the sheriff’s department. I told them I would be sending a journal in my husband’s handwriting that detailed how he killed his first wife. I told them I had tapes to back up my suspicions that he was going to kill me. I told them not to look for me.” A chill went down her spine. If Blaine had any reservations about killing her before, he certainly had reasons to kill her now.

“What about the tapes? Did you bring them?” he asked.

“Yes, they’re in my bag,” she replied, sighing. “I wish it were true—that I could have a life. I don’t want to have to run for the rest of my life. Someday I want to go home. I grew up in that house.”

“It’s too early to think about going home. But if you have a sole legal claim to the house, you may be able to get him out. You have to go through a lot of red tape with the court.” His voice was gentle when he asked, “Did he physically abuse you? If he did, that’s domestic violence, and the courts are likely to move faster on getting him out of the house.”

Their eyes met. “I’ve had a few bruises from manhandling, but most of it was verbal abuse.” Susan looked out the window at the traffic speeding by. “It’s just that living with a man that you know murdered his wife is difficult. I barely ate and slept.” She looked at the rain coming down in sheets and said, “It was an omen that I found the box. Thankfully, I listened to my sixth sense. Had I not listened, I would be dead in a few hours.”

“He’s a sick son of a bitch,” Derrick said. “Try not to think about it. The important thing is that you’re safe now. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Even though Susan had been marked for death today and was thankful Derrick was helping her escape, she didn’t feel indebted to him. Derrick was attractive, but she’d just left a precarious situation and wasn’t looking to get involved in another relationship. She hadn’t felt hungry for days, but steak and wine did sound good. And a dip in the pool seemed wonderful. She hadn’t brought her bathing suit and would have to pick one up—a cheap one at Target.

She noticed Derrick glance at her from time to time. She had been avoiding his eyes, but now she looked at him straight on. She was putting herself in a compromising situation with a stranger. There was something about him that was too good to be true. He was too good-looking, too sexy, and too wealthy.

“A guy like you must have a girlfriend,” she said. “Will she be at your house?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said. “After Jenny’s death, I threw myself into my work. I’ve just recently retired. I have a lot of friends. A few are waiting for us at the airport. Jack is a psychiatrist, and his wife, Millie, used to be a singer. She’s recorded several albums.”

“A psychiatrist?” she asked, puzzled. Did he think she was some kind of lunatic? And why would he bring the psychiatrist’s wife? A singer? Susan wasn’t impressed. Didn’t these people have anything better to do than catch a ride on a charter to Ohio? It didn’t make sense. She shot him a chilling look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“The psychic told me that you were coming to help me escape,” Susan quipped. “She didn’t say anything about a welcoming committee.”

“You don’t understand,” Derrick said. “Jack is my friend and neighbor. They’ll be at the pool party tonight. I thought it would be a good idea, in case you were upset. And I thought it would be a good idea to bring a woman with me so that you would feel safe.” He paused. “You should probably know there are two guys following us. We worked together in the FBI. We’re a team. They’re part of my entourage.”

Susan looked at him in frustration. Everything was slowly sinking in. He’d brought his entire entourage with him, and he’d planned a pool party. What was he thinking? She put her hands over her eyes and pinched herself. Was this really happening? When she uncovered her eyes and glanced back at him, he was watching the road, weaving in and out of traffic as he followed the signs to the airport.

Derrick began to hum a Frank Sinatra tune. She knew the lyrics. Some day when I’m all alone, and the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you and the way you look tonight.

She loved Frank Sinatra. She told herself she should feel grateful and not be suspicious.

Now the song was in her head.

She softened and reached over and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” she said in a gentle voice. “You took a risk coming for me. I appreciate it.”

“Something tells me you’re worth it,” he murmured, glancing at her and flashing a broad smile. “Besides, my life is about taking risks. You can’t win if you don’t roll the dice.”