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“I do, actually,” I said. “We look like a circus act. Anyone who sees us would remember us. And we’re driving a stolen vehicle. I want to ditch this van.”
“Yeah, that would be smart.”
“I have an old Jeep up at the cabin. Registered to one of my alternate identities.”
“Alternate identities, plural? You have more than one? What are you, a spy?”
“I lead a complicated life,” I said. “The Jeep looks like hell, but it goes.”
“I feel his breath on the back of my neck,” he said.
“Yeah, me too, but we won’t stay long. Just to wash off the blood, change, grab my go-bag, switch out vehicles. We can get ID, credit cards, gas, cash, shoes I can actually walk in…” I cut myself off, shooting a guilty glance at his feet.
A faint smile curved his mouth. “Don’t have my size, huh?”
“I have stuff to fit me and Reggie,” I admitted. “That’s all.”
“I’ll manage,” he said. “My people will get to us soon.”
I abandoned my attempts at conversation to concentrate on the road, which climbed steeply, switching back often. I had to slow way down on the broken, narrow sections, many of which were washed out. I hoped that the heavily-laden van would make it up that steep final grade to the cabin. I supposed we could stop and dump the ice sculpture, but time was tight, and I didn’t want to lose a second.
We reached the approach to the cabin, which was in a pine grove near the top of a bluff. The last stretch of road rose steeply, at what felt like a forty-five-degree angle.
I muttered encouragement and random profanity to the van, insulting and encouraging it in equal measure it as it spun out in the mud, struggled, lurched… and finally gained traction, lumbering up and over the muddy, stony ground. Thank God.
Near the cabin, the tree branches of several pines had grown down into a shaggy canopy over the road. The van crashed through them, crunching, scratching, swishing over the vehicle. We were temporarily blind, and then suddenly we emerged into a gloomy, green-tinted enclosure. The cabin was hidden inside of it. A tree cave.
That green canopy was what had sold me on the place when I was looking for a mouse-hole near Halliwell’s lair. I loved that tree cover. I felt like I could go to ground, like a fox. Maybe even be hidden from the possible drones above me.
The road leveled out at the top. I braked near the funky little cabin, almost hidden by overgrown foliage. It looked just as it had when I had left it several weeks ago, when I’d sneaked out to check that the place was properly stocked.
I let the phone take note of the longitude and latitude, pulled the number Shane had called up. I texted the coordinates, and then a message.
We’ll be here briefly, then we’ll head due north on the dirt road that cuts across Burnt Prairie.
“Who are you texting?”
“Your brother,” I said. “He wanted coordinates.”
He nodded his agreement, and we got out. It was so quiet here, hushed under the shelter of the trees. He strode out into the middle of the clearing and looked up, staring at the sun filtering through the trees, head flung back. Chest heaving.
It must be an incredible feeling for him. The sky, the trees, the air. The world.
I picked my way with some difficulty to the tree I had chosen, the hidden notch in the branches where I had left the keys. Almost broke a leg tottering back over the rocky ground. I made it to the front door and up the weather-beaten steps to the porch.
It was pitch dark inside. I’d left the shutters closed. I made my way around the main room and opened them, which helped, but it was still dim because of all the tree cover. I switched on the light, kicked off my hellfire-and-brimstone kitten heels, and gave myself a brisk shake. I needed a plan. Sensible, methodical. I looked out the door, and saw Shane, still motionless, staring up at the trees. Overcome by it all.
I got it. I’d do the same in his shoes… or lack of them. But we had no time to bask in the glory of nature, no matter how much he needed it.
“Shane,” I said. “This is a quick in-and-out, okay?”
He looked at me. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “Fine.”
He looked so overwhelmed. His eyes burned with emotion. It made me want to cry, and I didn’t have time for empathy. I was asking so much of the poor guy. He’d been viciously mistreated, and I didn’t even have time to be nice to him right now.
Aw, screw it. He might as well stare up into the trees while that bathroom was being used. That gave him a few minutes of grace. “Could you stay out there and keep watch for couple of minutes while I change?” I asked.
His eyes sharpened. “Sure. Where’s that gun you mentioned?”
