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Fourteen-year-old Little Rock foster child murdered at the hands of a monster.
Arkansas teen confesses to sexual assault and murder of a fourteen-year-old girl.
Huck Fallon sentenced to life behind bars for grisly crimes at just fifteen years old.
My stomach churned as I read the name again and recoiled from the desk, desperately reaching for the garbage can before I spewed the contents of my breakfast inside. My skin felt clammy, and I couldn’t breathe as the room darkened around me to a mere pinpoint. This was my sign. I had to get away. I had to get away as fast and as far as I could.
I leaned back and closed my eyes, catching my breath for a few seconds before I opened them again with a renewed sense of determination. A glance at the clock confirmed it was almost noon, and I couldn’t sit here with Ace pretending like everything was okay. Not after this. I had to make my move now.
Zipping up my jacket, I moved toward the door, peeking down the hallway in an attempt to see something. But I couldn’t. Not from this angle. I would have to go in blind.
Holding my breath, I snuck out into the hall, careful of each step that I took. The shop was loud with music blaring, wrenches turning, and the sound of a compressor somewhere in the distance. But it still felt like every step might give me away.
I made it to the end of the hall and spotted Ace working on the same truck from the day before. His back was turned to me, and for a second, I just stood there frozen. Watching him work was like watching an artist. Someone who could look at the tangled mess of broken parts and pieces and find a way to put them back together to make them whole again. So how could he possibly be the monster those articles said he was?
As if he could sense me, he started to turn, and I dived behind the nearest truck, hoping he didn’t see me. I watched his feet from beneath the bumper, waiting for him to move. But he didn’t. My breath evened out as I took stock of the situation around me. Several other trucks were parked in the shop. If I could sneak beneath them one by one, I might be able to get closer to the exit.
Army crawling around the greasy shop floor wasn’t as easy as I anticipated. Though my knees were mostly healed, there was still some bruising beneath the skin that made it sting every time I put pressure on them. But I kept going. Slipping from one truck to the next, holding my breath, and checking the location of Ace’s boots across the building. I wasn’t entirely sure how I would get to the exit once I made it, but I’d have to cross that bridge when I came to it.
Just as I was getting ready to bolt to the last truck, the rumble of an engine scared the ever-loving bejeezus out of me. I wasn’t expecting it, and when I glanced up, I realized it was coming from the truck I was currently parked beneath.
Crap.
My heart pounded as I scurried backward, glancing around frantically. There wasn’t anyone around, but I still doubted my ability to make it the next fifteen feet out in the open. So I went up and over instead, climbing carefully into the back of the truck and ducking down, hoping the driver hadn’t noticed. It was a utility work vehicle, so there was a lot of equipment in the back, and only a small space for me to wedge my body into. I curled into myself, becoming as small as possible as I waited with frantic breaths.
I was dead certain I’d be discovered as the truck began to roll forward, only to pause again when the driver rolled down his window and started up a conversation with one of Ace’s guys. I snuck a peek at the clock on the wall, noting only about five minutes were left until Ace took his lunch. At this rate, I wouldn’t even be out of the garage.
My irritation grew as the conversation continued. I had to get out of here. Just as I began to reconsider my plan, the conversation came to an abrupt end when the guy on the floor received an incoming call, and the truck lurched forward again. I settled in and tried to relax, finally breathing when we rolled outside, and I felt the sunlight on my face. But I knew I wasn’t home free yet. Part of me was still waiting for Ace to yell at the driver to stop before he came and dragged me out of the back, but it never happened.
We turned onto the street, and the driver cranked up his music, leaving the window down so that I could hear his awful singing. I counted the stoplights and looked up at the skyline for familiar buildings, but it looked like he was taking me farther and farther into a residential area. That wasn’t going to work.
