Then—faint at first, then rising—sirens. Marcus froze for half a second, calculating. Then he snapped, “Go!” The men slammed the truck doors. The engine roared. Gravel sprayed as the truck lurched forward, cutting down the drive toward the road.
Eleanor and Sarah ran after it a few steps—useless, desperate—until the first police car burst through the trees and blocked the exit. The truck swerved. Another cruiser came in from the side. A third stopped behind it. Pinned.