The house was quiet. Ella lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all of those nights she’d lay beneath this same roof but looking at a far different picture of it. If it weren’t for Rome, she’d probably still be in the attic. He’d be out there, freely living his life. Tim would be alive, and so would Mark.
Had her will to be free cost others everything?
The feel of her phone vibrating beneath her pillow made her jump. She checked the clock. It was past 3:00 in the morning. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep because she was waiting for Bart to call her. She’d sent him a text earlier, and he’d answered that he’d call as soon as it was safe.
Ella wasn’t sure it was ever safe, but she answered the phone now, keeping her voice down. “Hi.”
“How are you? Are you making it?”
