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So, so worth it.
"There you go. Good boy... ," Ariana said, inching forward. She held the first bit out to him, but he didn't move. Meloni had trained his dog well, the bastard. "Go ahead, Rambo. It's for you."
He raised his snout and swallowed the slice with one gulp. Ariana slowly lifted herself off her knees and stood up. Rambo watched the roast beef. Blood dripped down Ariana's back into the waistband of her jeans. She used her free hand to hold what was left of her tattered
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shirt against the cut. The pain was excruciating, but she could deal with that later.
"That's right, puppy," Ariana said in a soothing voice. "I'm the one who's been tossing this stuff to you at lunchtime."
She held out another bit and the dog smacked it up happily, then licked her hand.
"You're welcome," she said affectionately, patting his head. "And thank you for digging for it and digging me out. I promise you I won't forget it. But for right now, I have to go."
Rambo tilted his head the other way, his ears turning in the breeze as more explosions crackled overhead. He looked at Ariana almost as if he understood what she was saying. That this was good-bye. For some strange reason Ariana's eyes filled with tears.
"Don't worry. I'll be seeing you again," she said.
Then she tossed the last piece of meat on the ground in front of him and ran like hell for the lake.
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FEELING LUCKY
There were two cars in the driveway, but the cabin was dark. The owners were probably out on one of the many pontoon boats on the lake, hanging out after the fireworks. Ariana crouched on the private dock and quickly unwound the rope that held the tiny metal skiff in place. The little boat was probably some kid's first vessel, and she felt a slight pang at depriving him of it, but hopefully it would be returned. Besides, it was for a good cause. She liked to think the young boy would have approved of the intrigue that was going to surround his boat's fate. With a shove, she sent the skiff into the lake and watched for a moment to ensure that the
wind would do its job and carry it toward the deeper water. Then she quickly turned and ran to a cabin two houses over. She paused for a moment, said a quick prayer, and turned the knob of the front door. Unlocked. Yes. Just as she had hoped. These vacation homes on the lake were all owned by happy-go-lucky, upper-middle-class families who trusted their neighbors.60
Well, trust was for suckers.
Ariana slipped inside, crossed the sunken living room, and took the wide wooden stairs two at a time. She found the master bedroom at the end of the hallway and flicked on the light in the master bath.
Her reflection was a horror show. Hair knotted and matted with dirt. Brown streaks all over her face. Nails broken and lined with black muck. There was a cut over her right eyebrow and her shirt was torn to shreds. Not knowing how long she might have, Ariana peeled her clothes off. What little cash she had saved up over the past year and a half in prison--money she'd earned by selling off the food and magazines her mother had sent her--fell out of her underwear, where she'd hidden it. Ariana reverently placed the bills on the side of the sink. She could not lose that money. It was all she had.
She jumped in the shower and winced when the hot water hit her cut. She contorted herself in every direction trying to get the soap in and around the fresh wound. It stung so much she wanted to cry all over again, but she bit the urge back. Ariana had always prided herself on being tough after everything she had gone through with her family and Thomas, but she had never had to endure actual physical pain. This was new, but she could handle it. The last thing she needed was an infection. Hospitals were not an option.
Wrapping a towel around herself, Ariana raced back into the bedroom and shoved open the closet door. Her nose wrinkled. L.L. Bean, all the way. But still. There had to be something here she could work with. She grabbed an old, faded yellow Patagonia backpack off the floor, balled up her prison garb, and shoved it into the bottom.
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She then dug to the back of the closet, hoping to find some clothes that were no longer favorites and therefore might not be missed. She selected a pair of cargo khakis and a white T-shirt, which she shoved in the bag as well, then added an Orioles baseball cap and a light blue sweater. She lost the towel and pulled her sweaty underpants and roast-beefy bra back on--she was not about to wear another woman's underwear--then yanked out a plain white V-neck sweater and a pair of jeans. The sweater fit fine, but the jeans were two sizes too big, so she cinched them with a leather belt she found hanging on a hook by the door, then shoved her feet into a pair of hiking boots a size too small.
"Huge ass, small feet. Fab." Ariana giggled to herself. Beggars couldn't be choosers. She couldn't have been happier to have been wearing the freak show's B-list outdoorsy outfit.
Back in the bathroom, Ariana stole a hairbrush, an unopened tube of lip balm, and a bar of soap, just in case. Satisfied that she had everything she actually needed to hold her over until she reached her destination, she shouldered the backpack and raced downstairs. Halfway across the living room, she heard voices on the front porch. Ariana froze, her heart hurtling into her throat.
A man laughed. Two kids were babbling on about the fireworks. She could see their shadows playing outside the front windows. Ariana whirled around and spotted the kitchen through an open doorway.
Back door. Please let there be a back door.She stumbled on her way across the threshold, slammed her hip into a wooden chair at the kitchen table, and grasped for the door
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handle just as the front door opened. Ever so quietly, Ariana slipped out into the warm night air, letting the door click closed behind her. For the second time that night, she ran for her life.
* * *
Less than an hour later, Ariana stood in front of a bored, elderly teller who sat behind the window at the Arlington, Virginia, bus station. Her hair hidden under the Orioles baseball cap, Ariana was surprised at how calm she felt. But then, she had covered her bases. By now, Kaitlynn had to have found the note. By now, no one would be looking for her. At least not this far out of the facility.
