I can’t believe I pulled it off. I kept looking over my shoulder each time I came to a stop light, my heart racing and fear threatening to choke me, but the angst was more than acceptable, given the alternative. I’d felt like a sitting duck back in L.A., waiting for someone to break down the door to that shitty little motel room and shoot me every other second.

Between that fear and the image in that photo playing through my head on a loop, I barely slept a wink. Every time I ...