Tara squeezed through the bathroom window with the petri dish clenched between her teeth. She had to use both hands to haul herself through the narrow frame, and even then, she got stuck. Rain spattered the back of her head and neck, but it didn’t do much to let her slide through the window. How on earth had Malcolm managed this? If it weren’t so dark, she wagered she would have found some of his clothing—and maybe skin—snagged on the frame. She almost bumped her nose on the opposite wall—the little alley outside was no more than two feet wide and surely meant for nothing more than ventilating the bathrooms.
Once through, Tara was about to jump to the ground, but the flashing of red lights brightened the night at both ends of the alley. The motel compound and parking area wasn’t that large. Any minute, the person waiting out front would realize she wasn’t going to “get decent” and answer the door. When they figured out she wasn’t inside, this alley would be the first place they would check.
She climbed up instead of down and grabbed the gutter on the opposite roof. Her fingers dipped into cold water and moldy sludge, but she pushed off the window frame and managed to swing a leg up. Luckily, the gutter held her weight and she was able to scramble onto the damp tar-and-gravel roof. Staying low, she climbed to the apex and surveyed the compound, wondering which way she should go. Which way had Malcolm gone?
She was perched above the main office now and could see up and down the highway. At this hour, there wasn’t any traffic on it. The lights of the sheriff’s cars continued to flash in the back parking lot, but she didn’t see anyone out front. There was a gas station and some kind of warehouse across the way with a field and trees beyond that.
“Seems like a Malcolm-ish destination,” she muttered around the petri dish, and climbed down the opposite slope of the roof. She needed to cross the street and get behind that warehouse before the deputies noticed her. Malcolm wouldn’t be happy if she led them to his position.
When she reached the edge, she paused to look for a place to climb down. The puddles on the pavement in front of the office didn’t look like they would cushion her landing that much. Her inadvertent caution allowed her to spot a man in a dark cap and a beige uniform standing in front of the office door—and not five feet from her position. She gulped. Now what? If she jumped off the roof, he would probably catch her before she hit the ground.
A car door slammed in the back parking lot. “Is there another way out of those rooms?” someone called.
“There’s an alley over here!”
Tara chewed on her lip, wondering what the odds were that she could lie flat on the roof and simply wait for them to search the hotel and go away. But no, someone was sure to make the connection between the bathroom window and her current location. If only the cop below would go join his friends in the back... Unfortunately, he seemed to be comfortable where he was, the roof’s overhang keeping the rain from pounding his head.
Tara leaned back from the edge and pulled out her phone. She was thinking about texting Jasmine to see what was going on over there, or if there was any way she might provide a distraction, but what if Jasmine and Mandy were sitting under the watchful eyes of the deputies right now? Any bleeps their phones made might be monitored.
Tara would have sworn if the officer weren’t so close. Instead she stuck her phone back in her pocket and crawled along the roof, parallel to the front of the building. Maybe she could go down on the side and find a hiding spot or slip away from over there. Too bad nothing but pavement surrounded the hotel. She longed for the big city where buildings were pushed right up against each other and thieves—or foolish women who had gotten themselves into strange predicaments—could jog from rooftop to rooftop without ever touching down. That always happened in the movies anyway.
The side of the building wasn’t that promising—especially since she could see the back end of a police car and hear footsteps in the alley—but time was limited, so she swung down from the gutter anyway. Nothing so helpful as a mattress or trampoline awaited to break her fall, but she managed to drop down without spraining or breaking anything, though the petri dish did almost fly from her mouth. She shoved it into her back pocket. Maybe she ought to leave it somewhere for Malcolm to find if he came back, then turn herself in as he had suggested. If only—
The officer from the front of the building walked around the corner, a gun in hand.
“Erp?” Tara said.
She hadn’t thought she had made any noise crawling across the roof or jumping down, but she must have. She spread her hands and racked her brain for something to say, some brilliant bit of misdirection that would let her run free and that would turn the law after the true criminals.
“You’re the missing woman,” the officer blurted, lowering his gun.
“Uhm, yes.” Tara realized two things in that moment: first, that she was still being seen as a victim and not an accomplice, and second, that she might use this to her advantage. But she would need to be careful not to incriminate Malcolm and suggest he truly had kidnapped her. “Is it safe out here? I got out through the bathroom window.” She waved toward the alley. Another man in a beige uniform jogged out at that moment. He glanced in her direction but saw his fellow officer and ran around the opposite corner.
“You’re soaking wet,” her officer said—she couldn’t read his nametag in the dim lighting from the street lamps—but he was quite young, no older than she. “Here.” He removed his jacket and handed it to her. “Did you escape? Did he run? Are you injured? Here, come with me to one of the cars. We’ll get you dried off.”
Tara stared at the jacket. “Yes, I’d appreciate that. I’ve been freezing all night. But I really need to call my parents. My phone... I think it’s still in that room. Could you get it for me?” Yeah, that was going to work, sure. He would trot back there to do her a favor, and she could take the opportunity to run across the street and catch up with Malcolm. Just in case he was the gullible sort, she gave him her best please-help-me smile—and hoped Jasmine didn’t take that moment to text or call her. The search, which was still progressing around the building, wasn’t making enough noise to cover up a telltale bleep.
“You can use mine.” The officer pulled out a cell phone and pressed it into her palm.
Great...
“Here, let’s get you out of the rain.” He took her arm and led her toward the back of the building. His grip was gentle, but it might as well have been a shackle. She gazed back across the street and toward the trees. With him escorting her, she wouldn’t even be able to find a spot to leave the sample.
They reached the closest car, its lights flashing, blasting the parking lot with red, and the officer opened a back door for her. More than one set of eyes peered out from behind curtains, the hotel patrons watching the search progress. With little choice, Tara slid into the back seat. She thought she might be joining Mandy and Jasmine, but they weren’t there. They must be in the other car.
“I’ll get you a towel.” The officer closed the door, but a shout from another officer distracted him. Tara didn’t hear what the other person said, but her guy responded with, “I found the girl!” He gave her a quick wave, then jogged over to report.
“Huh.” Tara eyed her back compartment, then slid across to the opposite door. Not far away, a dumpster loomed, the red beams flashing off its dull paint. Some foliage lay behind that. Two men were jogging away from it, flashlights in hand. They must have just finished searching the brush. “Meaning they have no reason to check it again, right?”
Tara tried the door handle. It wasn’t locked. She wasn’t a criminal, after all, just a guest. A rescued guest. The young officer was gesturing and talking to his superior.
“Might be the last chance you get...” Tara opened the door and eased out, staying as low as she could without hitting her butt on the wet pavement. She closed the door softly, then jogged for the dumpster.
She kept waiting for someone to shout, “Stop!” but it only took a couple of seconds to reach cover, and that shout never came. Certain she had to run as far as she could as fast as she could—how would she explain herself if she were caught again?—she sprinted through the wet brush, ignoring the tearing, grasping branches. What she had identified as “foliage” from the car turned out to be blackberry bushes, complete with thorns like daggers. She came out behind another motel, ran to the far end of it, and paused at the corner long enough to make sure police cars weren’t streaking down the highway. There wasn’t a soul on the street, though the shouts from the hotel drifted down, telling her that her presence had been missed. No help for it. She jogged to the edge of the road, then forced herself to walk across the street, rather than sprinting like an escaped felon. On the chance that someone was looking her way, she hoped they would mistake her for some motel patron seized by the urge for a late-night snack from the gas station. While wearing a sheriff’s department jacket. Right.
She skirted the back of the gas station and jogged into the field she had noticed before. It occurred to her that she probably should have asked Malcolm about a rendezvous point. She should have gotten his phone number too. But that would have made too much sense.
After almost twisting her ankle three times crossing the lumpy field, Tara made it to the edge of the trees. She could see houses in one direction, but she seemed to be on the edge of town, for the other direction promised more fields and foliage. Hadn’t Jason said the mushroom facility was on the south side of Forks? Maybe she wasn’t that far. The idea of roaming through the wilds at night on her own daunted her though. She lingered near the border of the field, hoping Malcolm might have seen her departure and that he would find her.
One of the sheriff’s cars pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Tara eased deeper into the shadows, putting a tree at her back. Had the deputies given up? Or maybe they were broadening their search. Or taking Jasmine and Mandy off for questioning. Tara itched to text Jasmine.
“Nice jacket,” came a familiar voice from behind the tree.
“Thank you,” Tara said. “Do you know if making off with county clothing is a misdemeanor on the same level as sacrificing chickens?”
“Probably neither, especially if you return it. Although...” Malcolm touched a rip on her sleeve—she must have gathered several while tearing through the brambles by the dumpster. “Given its condition, I don’t think the owner will be happy with you.”
“Maybe we can work on your mushroom business together if we’re parked in adjoining cells.”
Malcolm sighed and dropped his arm. “That would not please me. Why didn’t you let them take you in? You could have done more for me and for your eco buddies by explaining what’s really going on.”
“I did that in the note. Though judging by their reaction to seeing me, Sam hasn’t shared that note with the authorities yet. Besides—” Tara fished into her back pocket, “—you left something behind.”
“Yes, I realized that about three seconds after I jumped out the window.”
“And then you used telepathy to send me a mental message, urging me to bring it to you,” Tara said. “That’s why I’m here. It has nothing to do with being a fool.” True, he hadn’t called her a fool, but that thought had sprung into her mind more than once that night.
“That’s not quite what I was thinking about as I ran away from the motel.”
“Oh? What were you thinking about?”
“Missed opportunities.” Malcolm offered her his arm, though his gaze was toward the highway and another patrol car pulling out of the motel parking lot. “Come on. We might as well look for the lab under cover of darkness. I have a feeling there are going to be far more than two sheriff’s cars patrolling this town come dawn.”