Chapter 7: The Burlington Highway
The heater in the stolen Ford pickup rattled against the dashboard, blowing lukewarm air that smelled faintly of stale coffee and old rubber. Mason drove with both hands gripping the steering wheel at ten and two, his eyes constantly darting between the slick, ice-coated highway and the rearview mirror. In the backseat, Eli finally stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy yawn before settling back into a deep, untroubled slumber against my arm. I stared out the passenger window at the passing blur of snow-covered guardrails and darkened pine forests, the adrenaline of the escape slowly giving way to a bone-deep exhaustion.
"We're ten minutes outside Burlington," Mason said, breaking the heavy silence that had filled the cab since we cleared the mountain pass. "If Gabriel's contact at the federal courthouse hasn't moved the appointment, we go straight through the security checkpoint without stopping at the main entrance."
Gabriel sat in the middle of the backseat next to me, his dark coat dusted with melting snow. He wasn't looking at the road or checking his phone; instead, his gaze was fixed on my hands, which were still trembling slightly despite the warmth of the truck. Without a word, he reached over and slid his hand over mine, his fingers warm and calloused, grounding me against the rising tide of memory. The last time I had been in a courtroom, Julian had sat three rows back with a cold, polite smile on his face, while his lawyers presented forged medical affidavits declaring me unfit to raise my own child.
"The magistrate is waiting," Gabriel said softly, his voice carrying an unmistakable authority that seemed to push the cold away. "She's a federal appointee with a reputation for absolute independence from corporate influence. Once she reviews the original medical records Mason pulled from the private clinic, my family's emergency guardianship petition dissolves automatically."
"And Julian?" I asked, turning my head to look into his intense, protective eyes. "He won't just let us walk out of a federal building."
"Julian is used to owning rooms where everyone else is on his payroll," Gabriel replied, a faint, humorless smile touching the corner of his mouth. "A federal courtroom doesn't belong to the Sterlings. For the first time in his life, he’s going to have to answer questions under oath, on the public record, with reporters from the wire services sitting in the gallery."
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The pickup slowed as we crossed the old iron bridge leading into downtown Burlington. The skyline appeared through the swirling snow like a jagged collection of gray shadows, punctuated by the glowing brick facade of the federal courthouse. Even at this hour, a handful of black sedan cars were idling near the side entrance, their tinted windows reflecting the harsh glare of streetlamps. Gabriel straightened his tie, the immaculate line of his dark suit returning as he prepared to step back into the world he had fought so hard to escape.
"Mason, park by the loading dock," Gabriel commanded, his voice dropping into its executive cadence. "Claire, keep Eli covered until we're inside the vestibule. We don't give the press a photograph until the magistrate signs the order."
