The end of the hallway split off into two new hallways, and Cyrus peeked around the corner of both of them before deciding to continue straight. Ahead of us was a door to the outside, and it appeared he planned to lead us right out of it.
Closed doors lined either side of the hallway. Probably more interrogation rooms, and as we walked closer to the end, Cyrus’s steps increased.
“If we’re free to go, then why are we sneaking out?” I asked right before he pushed through the door.
Cyrus turned back to me with his hands resting on the door rail. “Better safe than arrested,” he said, using his back to hold open the door and push me out into the warm Florida afternoon.
CHAPTER 8
CYRUS
The door opened at the back of the police station and I put my body in front of Imogen so if a hail of bullets met us as we escaped, they’d hit me first. Thankfully, the only thing on the other side of the building was blinding Florida sunshine and July heat.
At least for the first few seconds. After that, everything rolled downhill.
“We need to find a road out of town. Maybe we can hitchhike, and if we get far enough away from the station, I’ll call my brother and find a meeting point,” I said to Imogen as we walked through the parking lot, looking for the best direction to escape.
Bushes surrounded the space and grew so thick together you couldn’t run through them. A quick scan showed there were two ways out of the lot—one entrance and one exit. We were closer to the exit to our left, so I grabbed Imogen’s hand and directed her that way at the exact time a familiar car turned into the lot.
Imogen jerked, stopping our movements. “Cyrus, isn’t it the car from last night?” she asked, but I’d already determined it was.
There weren’t too many nineties Buicks still on the road and the coincidence of us seeing the same-colored vehicle two nights in a row was hard to ignore. “Shit, beautiful, it is.”
She darted, tugging me back, but I turned and the two of us walked as calmly as possible toward the police station. I didn’t know if the police would help us, but I felt safe enough that the men in the car wouldn’t shoot us in broad daylight at the back of a police station.
I hoped the cops put our names through the system. If they had, they’d pop up and hit the search my brother was undoubtably doing to locate me. He’d be here to rescue us in no time.
Once we were in the system, we were practically safe. By that point, even if these cops were working for someone else, we’d be too public for them to do anything to shut us up.
There was nowhere for us to go and I tugged on the door, trying to get back into the police station, but it didn’t budge. Tall shrubs lined the outside of the brick building and I dragged Imogen behind the closest one with me.
We huddled together, each of us breathing shallowly to not make extra noise. The bush had small holes without foliage, allowing me to see out the middle of it. It wasn’t a magnificent view of the parking lot, but enough to watch what happened.
“Cyrus, those are the guys from last night,” Imogen said, her nails biting deep into my flesh with worry.
I didn’t want to scare her more, but our situation just got a lot worse. “I knew something weird was going on at the station.”
Which police department picked up two people, refused them drinks or phone calls, and then threatened them with jail time? Even if they didn’t believe our story, they should have at least pretended longer. The lack of any fake compassion was startling.
“How did they get here so fast?” she whispered directly into my ear.
Now wasn’t the time to contemplate the spectacular way that made me feel.
I readjusted my feet, so it was easier to crouch as we watched the two men get out of the car. “I have no idea, and I don’t plan to ask.”
She nodded in agreement and I put my hand over the top of hers to comfort us both.
“We’ll wait until they go into the building and then make a run for it.” It was the only plan I had.
Since the back door was locked, they’d have to circle around to the front of the building to gain entrance to the station. As soon as they cleared the side, we’d hightail it out of the lot. We wouldn’t have time or enough luck to find a car with a set of keys dangling from the ignition and a “steal me” sign propped to the top. We had to run for the exit and hope we made it a few blocks away before anyone realized we were missing. Then we’d blend in until we found a ride out of here.
Once I got Imogen away from the police, we’d look for a highway or other large stretch of road and then hitchhike the rest of the way out of town. My trust of the everyday man shrank considerably with each passing second, but I’d put my faith in a random driver more than any of these cops.
It was a crappy situation with a crappy solution, but we had to take our chances.
The assholes took their time, each of them waiting by the side of the car to finish their cigarettes before tossing them on the ground with a quick stomp. After the second one’s body cleared the building, I counted to three and then nodded to Imogen, getting her to stand.
We walked with cautious steps out of the parking lot, but once we cleared the road bushes, Imogen tried to pick up her pace and run.
