Dedication

To Lexi, my precious daughter.

My arms don't spread wide enough

to show you how much I love you.

Chapter 1

NATHAN WALTER BOYLE had come to New York City with a handful of dreams. He was leaving with a truck full of nightmares.

Well, not a truck, exactly. He stopped at the bay window and looked out front. There in his driveway sat the weird container his father'd had delivered. The Pod was as big as a Dumpster, only shiny and white.

Nate had called his father before the delivery truck pulled away. "A U-Haul would have been fine, Dad."

"This will give you time to sort it all out."

Nate had a lot more to sort out than just the paraphernalia he'd accumulated in the fourteen years he'd lived in the city. If only he could figure out how to pack the nightmares away along with the detritus of his life.

He grabbed a packed box from the kitchen table and headed for the front door. He stepped onto the front porch, where he took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, like he did a thousand times a day. All was well. The guys who'd taken him were dead. He was safe.

Tell his pounding heart that.

It was sunny and chilly, mild for late March in New York. Spring had always been his favorite season in the city. The once slushy streets were clear. Trees budded along the sidewalks. Flowers bloomed. Even the people seemed to reawaken after their long grouchy winters. As the weather warmed more, kids would soon skateboard along the sidewalks, cords dangling from their ears. In city parks, the thump-thump of dribbling basketballs would serve as the rhythm for the season, while little children's laughter would supply the melody.

For just a moment, Nate wished he could stay.

He looked up the street. Cars were lined in both directions in front of the 1920s-era houses so similar to his own. His neighbor pushed her double stroller on the sidewalk, heading away from him, out for her daily walk. A couple of houses down in the other direction, a woman walked toward him. Frizzy brown hair hung over her tan raincoat. A big black purse dangled from her shoulder.

He ignored his racing pulse and maneuvered down the porch steps toward the storage container. At least he was out here, doing this, all by himself. A small victory, but he'd take it. There'd been a time just stepping outside the door was a battle he could barely win.

In the Pod, he deposited the box on a pile of others.

Outside, the roll of tires crunched on loose gravel. The car slowed and stopped.

He was stepping out of the Pod when he heard a scream.