“Yes, she sounds like one talented lady,” Jake added, spreading it on a little thick.
“Let’s see some identification,” the detective answered.
“Sorry, we made a mistake,” Jake said, still trying to misdirect the guy.
Was this really going to work?
The detective was watching them with narrowed eyes, and Rachel could almost picture his mind trying to sort reality from the fantasy Jake was projecting.
“Come on, honey. I think we showed up at the wrong time,” Jake murmured as he led them around the shelf that had fallen over.
They were almost to the door when the detective suddenly straightened and called out. “No! Wait. You’re not customers. You’re Gregory and Harper. The fugitives. Stop right there.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
As the detective pulled his gun, they both went rigid.
“Hands in the air.”
When they complied, he said, “I didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to come back here.”
My fault, Rachel silently said.
We’ll get out of it.
How?
Put your hand on your forehead. Act like you’re going to faint.
Not far from the truth.
Rachel made a moaning sound and swayed.
As the detective looked toward her, Jake leaped forward and gave him a shove, sending him crashing onto a bookcase full of knickknacks that Rachel had on display.
When the gun discharged, Rachel’s heart leaped into her throat. But the bullet crashed into the ceiling as small jars, boxes and figurines rained down on the detective.
For good measure, Jake pushed at a wooden display table, sending it toppling onto the man.
Before he could extricate himself, Jake was pulling Rachel out the door.
He charged down the sidewalk, hurrying her along. They turned a corner into an alley, then to the back of the buildings, to the lot where Jake had left the truck.
“Is he following?” Rachel panted.
“I think he was still in the shop when we turned the corner.” He looked at her. “Sorry, I think I broke a bunch of your stuff.”
“Consider it the cost of doing business.”
He made a snorting sound as he started the engine and pulled out of the space, heading down the alley at a reasonable pace, not like anyone was after them.
Rachel craned her neck around, but she didn’t see anyone following, either on foot or in a vehicle. Hopefully, the detective wouldn’t even know what they were driving.
“I think we got away,” she murmured.
“For now.”
“Oh, thanks.” She swung her head toward him. “That was clever, though, trying to convince him we were someone else.”
