Lobbies are supposed to be places where people sit, quietly bored, while waiting to enter another space and encounter the thing that happens next. No one expects anything to happen in lobbies.
Which is why the correctional officer in the lobby of the jail is not prepared for Simon and Kristin’s arrival. He is perhaps anticipating that action might happen in the more obviously punitive areas of the jail, or maybe he is thinking about what he will have for dinner after his shift is over.
Kristin can’t know, will never know, what the officer is thinking, now that Simon is slashing the man’s face. When the officer turns his head, hands going up self-protectively, Simon slashes his throat.
‘Don’t look, don’t look,’ Simon whispers as it happens.
But Kristin had to look at the second guard, back in the corridor, and she has to look at this third guard, too. The lobby man gurgles. Wet spatters slap across Kristin’s chin and shirt. Simon’s ferocity andaccuracy are astonishing, terrifying.And Arjuna was both dazzled and terrified, for the form of god extended immeasurably in all directions.Kristin struggles with stars in her vision.
Her god is a more efficient killing machine than she could ever have imagined.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
They walk around the left side of the house, rather than knock on the front door.
There’s a tinkle of glass as Travis cracks one of the small rectangular panes on the back door to reach through and unlock the catch. A portico covers them with shadow. The windows here at the rear have their blinds closed, like sleeping eyes.
Travis withdraws his arm carefully, and no glass catches on his suit jacket sleeve. ‘Okay, come on.’
‘What are the rules on breaking and entering if you’re trying to rescue an abductee?’ Emma whispers.
Travis grips the doorknob and recites in a low voice. ‘Officers of the law may enter a home without a warrant in exigent circumstances, in which a reasonable person may believe that entry is necessary to prevent physical harm to someone, or prevent the destruction of evidence, the escape of the suspect, or some other consequence improperly obstructing legitimate law enforcement efforts.’
Emma swallows. ‘Except you’re not graduated yet.’
‘Except that, yeah.’
He turns the doorknob.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Simon rests the dead officer against the floor, straightens and gestures to Kristin with blood-smeared hands. ‘The next area is admin reception?’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Her whole body is trembling with little aftershocks.
Simon transfers the razor blade from hand to hand as he wipes his slippery fingers on his pants. ‘Kristin. Sister, look at me.’
She looks up. ‘Simon?’
He walks closer, cups her against him, croons into her hair. ‘Just a little further, love. We’re almost at the end now. It will all be over soon.’
Kristin cannot speak. She grabs at her brother’s shoulder, smears the blood on her face onto his shirt. This is the first time in two years they have hugged without bars between them, and Kristin finds the closeness, the feel of her brother’s arms around her, utterly intoxicating. They are here together. She is whole again.
‘Kristin,’ Simon whispers. ‘Can you be strong for me?’
‘I can.’ She has come this far. She presses into her knees, down through her feet into the floor. Pushes back from her brotherto stand independently. ‘I can be strong. I can be strong for you.’
‘You’re amazing.’ Simon smiles gently, gazes into her eyes. ‘Will you be my willing hostage once more, dearest?’
What can she do but give her assent?
CHAPTER FORTY
The kitchen of the Rutherford Avenue house is all scuffed, dun-colored tile and fake wood-grain Formica, mixed with slabs of darkness. No lights. The air is still, the space feels spooky. There’s a wooden table and two chairs. A white coffee cup and a bowl sit in the sink, already rinsed.
It’s a straight shot through the kitchen to the front door; Emma can see the dark wooden banister of a set of stairs to the upper floor. Another door to a basement is here on the left, past the refrigerator.
‘Up or down?’ Travis whispers.
