The Miles Between Us

Chapter 4 Road Block

The interior of the old sedan smelled of wet wool and Jake’s sister’s peppermint hand sanitizer. For the first twenty miles, the only sound was the rhythmic thwack-thwack of the windshield wipers and Clara’s shaky breathing.

As they approached the border into New Jersey, the George Washington Bridge loomed ahead like a giant ribcage of steel and light. Jake kept his eyes glued to the rearview mirror. He wasn't looking for traffic; he was looking for the predatory glare of those black SUVs.

"We need to stop," Clara whispered, her eyes fixed on the bridge. "I need to call my mother. If she thinks I'm dead—"

"If you call her, they’ll have our GPS coordinates before you can say goodbye," Jake snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. He felt the weight of the situation crashing down on him. He wasn't just a musician anymore; he was a fugitive.As they cleared the bridge and hit the Jersey side, the traffic began to slow. Up ahead, the night was fractured by the rhythmic pulsing of red and blue lights.

"Cops," Jake cursed, his stomach dropping. "This early? Your father doesn't waste time."

"It’s not just cops," Clara said, leaning forward. "Look at the vests."

Through the rain-streaked glass, Jake saw them. State troopers were stopping cars, but standing behind them were men in plain windbreakers with "FEDERAL AGENT" stenciled on the back. Her father hadn't just reported her missing—he had pulled every string in the book.

Jake pulled his faded baseball cap lower over his eyes. "Check the glove box. There’s a pair of Mia’s old glasses and a hoodie. Put them on. Now."

While Clara scrambled to hide her blonde hair and the shimmer of her gala dress, Jake pulled his phone out. His thumb hovered over Mia’s name.

His heart twisted. If the police were already looking for Clara, they were already at his apartment in Brooklyn. If he called Mia now, he was leading them straight to her. But if he didn't... she’d wake up alone to a door being kicked in by federal agents.

"Jake, they’re waving the car in front of us forward," Clara whispered, her voice trembling behind the oversized glasses.

Jake made a split-second decision. He didn't call. He turned the phone off completely and shoved it under the seat.

Forgive me, Mia, he thought. I have to stay free to save you.

The trooper tapped on the driver’s side window. Jake rolled it down just an inch, letting the cold rain spray his face.

"Evening, Officer," Jake said, putting on his best 'tired commuter' voice.

The trooper shone a flashlight into the back seat, lingering on the cello case, then moved the beam to Clara. She tucked her chin into the oversized hoodie, pretending to sleep.

"Where are you headed, son?"

"Heading to my shift at the warehouse in Newark," Jake lied smoothly. "The girlfriend's exhausted. We had a long night."

The trooper squinted, his eyes moving to a tablet in his hand showing a high-resolution photo of Clara Sterling in her diamonds. For three agonizing seconds, the world stopped. The only sound was the rain drumming on the roof.

"Get that taillight fixed, kid," the trooper finally said, stepping back and waving them through. "Drive safe."

Jake didn't breathe until they were two miles past the checkpoint. He floored it, merging onto the I-80 West.

"They're going to realize it was us the moment they check the bridge cameras," Jake said, his voice tight. "We can't stay on the main highway. We’re going off-grid."

Clara looked at him, the fear in her eyes replaced by a grim realization. "They think you kidn*pped me, don't they?"

"The news probably has my face on every screen in the Tri-state area by now," Jake replied. "We aren't just driving to find a whistleblower anymore, Clara. We’re driving for our lives."