Page 73 of Shadowing You

“That place you just drove by—that was my plan B. I don’t have a Plan C. And you need to dump that car. Mei Lin, how far to the trailhead?”

She checked the map on Ethan’s phone. “We’re close. At the next light, turn right.”

By the set of Ethan’s jaw, he didn’t like it, but he followed her directions.

The streets she chose were narrow, the eaves nearly touching overhead. Scooters threaded past, more than one driver giving them a dirty look. The car didn’t belong here.

They came out the other side, turned away from the city, and drove past larger houses, farther apart.

“Don’t park near the trailhead,” Michael said. “I’m looking at a map. There’s a bus station about⁠—”

“I know where it is,” Mei Lin said.

“Good. Wipe everything when you stop. Wheel, gearshift, handles, console. Seatbelts too. Don’t forget the backseat—anywhere either one of you sat. And Han. We don’t want to give them any physical evidence to use against you.”

“Got it,” Ethan said. “Check the glove box, see if there are any napkins or tissues or anything.”

She did and found a package of cleaning wipes. Maybe that made sense, considering this was a hired car. Or maybe that was just God going before them.

She was already wiping her side of the car while she walked Ethan through the turns until she saw the station ahead. “Park anywhere here.”

He parallel parked the sedan between a dumpster and an SUV, killed the engine, and was out before the keys stopped jingling.

She climbed out and continued wiping the car—her side, the driver’s side, ignoring the passers-by and praying God would shield them.

Ethan pulled his pack from the trunk, then reached into the backseat for the clothes she’d given Han and the messenger bag, which she’d seen when Han had given her the mail carrier’s uniform.

Ethan held her coat out to her. “Put this on.”

She did, zipping it up. She hadn’t even noticed the cold until the coat warmed her.

She checked her pants pocket—the pouch containing the evidence was still there—then balled up the mail satchel and shoved it into the dumpster.

The distant sound of sirens came. They were growing louder.

Ethan was wiping the backseat. “Get the door handles,” he said. “Don’t forget the trunk.”

When they were finished, Ethan put the messenger bag over his shoulder and the pack on his back. “Go.”

She led the way, not toward the station but down an alley barely wide enough for them to jog side by side.

They cut through a courtyard, ducked under a low awning, and came out on a footpath along the drainage canal.

She knew this path. Six years ago, she’d run it every morning before her shift.

The sirens were getting closer.

“Up the embankment.” She was already gasping, barely able to force the words out.

The embankment was steep and covered with weeds, scattered trash, and a plastic bag caught in the brush. Her shoes slid.

Ethan caught her elbow and hauled her up. At the top, the forest rose in front of them. They took the trail—just packed earth between bamboo, and climbed toward a dark line of pines on the ridge.

She made her legs move, though they protested every step.

If she’d been stronger, she’d have been out of the hospital faster. Ethan wouldn’t be in danger because his wife was so slow. Han wouldn’t be… She didn’t want to think about what had happened to the kindly older man who’d helped them.

The trail climbed higher and higher. Her thighs burned, and she panted as if there wasn’t enough air in the world. Her foot caught on a root, and she stumbled.