Prologue

Alicia’s hands shook as she dabbed carefully at the blood on her face. Dimly, she registered the crash of the heavy oak front door slamming closed. Dizzy and sick, she knew that Richard might change his mind, might be back at any moment. Lately, it seemed as if her knowledge of him, her ability to figure out what he wanted, was growing less and less reliable. She should have known better than to ask the cook to serve pork chops tonight, of course—Richard had been worrying about his weight gain just yesterday, and had commented scathingly on the slight thickening at her own waist as well. “I’m so hopeless,” she thought miserably.

But it was too late now, of course. Lately everything she said or thought or did was wrong—and worse, Richard had begun to find fault with Sara. Two days ago, there had been a bruise on her daughter’s upper arm—Alicia had been afraid to ask her where it came from, and the child hadn’t volunteered the information. Of course, the baby was safe—Richard had told her flatly that his birth was the only thing Alicia had ever done right. A sudden wave of nausea came over her and she vomited helplessly into the toilet.

When the spasm had passed, she dragged herself back to her feet. Her head throbbed and she was barely able to stand.

If only she could get away, she thought, bathing her swollen eyes with cool water. If only there were someplace where she and the children could just vanish away, gone forever, safe from Richard’s cutting words and his bruising fists. But of course, she wouldn’t be able to raise the children alone—Richard had often told her what a complete idiot she was, unskilled at even the simplest tasks, and with no training for any career. She knew he was right--she wasn’t even a competent mother—how could she be thinking about trying to raise the children on her own?

Yet, somehow, she was thinking about it. Dropping the stained washcloth into the sink, she found herself slipping down the hall into the bedroom she shared with Richard. She knew better than to take her purse—the credit cards inside were in Richard’s name, and wouldn’t help her—but daringly she slid open the top drawer of the massive walnut dresser where Richard kept cash. “Not too much,” she murmured breathlessly, pulling a few bills from the thick wad. Now her heart was hammering—he might be back at any moment, and there would be no going back if he saw what she had done.

Thank heavens he had sent the cook and the nanny home tonight, she thought—at the time, knowing that it meant he planned to reprimand her, she had been sick with apprehension, but now it seemed like a gift. Quickly, not pausing to pack or even snatch up a coat, she ran back down the hall to her daughter’s bedroom.

“Sara, wake up! Wake up, sweetie!” she whispered, shaking the child’s shoulder lightly. “We’re going on a vacation! Wake up!” With the dazed child, still in her pajamas, tagging behind, Alicia ran across the hall and snatched Robbie out of his crib. For a moment she considered calling a taxi, but she knew there might not be time. At any moment, Richard might be back—and she dreaded the punishment which would follow once he figured out what she was doing. No, the only way was to vanish completely, so that he could never find them, no matter what.

Strapping the bewildered children into their car seats, Alicia was shaking so hard she felt sick to her stomach. Where could they go? What could they do? As the car backed out of the garage, her only thought was to drive as far from home as she could, to go and just keep on going, and to hope that somewhere, somehow, they could find a haven, a place of safety.