“He’s never met a gift shop he couldn’t get lost in. Did you get ahold of whoever you needed to?”
“I had to call directory assistance, which amazingly still exists, to get the number for my boyfriend’s company,” she said, inventing details with increasing ease. “Jordan’s administrative assistant will leave messages for him and a couple of the other people on the hike, telling them to meet me here.”
“You must be really relieved.”
“So relieved.” She took a long sip of coffee and chased it with ice water. “I really do plan to pay you guys back for all your kindness as soon as I get to my phone. What’s your Venmo?”
“Just pay it forward,” Devin said.
She really couldn’t have stolen from nicer people.
“Seriously.”
“You’ll never remember mine, but Sanjay’s is @thejay.”
“Got it.”
Could she even access her Venmo? And what about her spending account? The police would be alerted immediately. Even if Fugitive Cara could open a new bank account, how was she going to make any money to deposit? She pictured herself washing dishes for cash under the counter, like a road-weary criminal in a black-and-white noir movie. Or worse.
Neither of them said anything for an uncomfortably long beat.
Finally, Devin spoke. “It could take a while. Do you think we should let the local authorities know, just in case?—”
“None of the people on the hike brought their phones, either, so they can’t contact anyone and won’t be able to hear the messages until they make it out,” she said quickly.
“Well, that could take hours.”
“I’m totally fine. If I get bored, I’ve got the gift shop. Or I can head down the street to the crystal shop. I’m just happy to have food and a bathroom.”
She wasn’t lying.
“Speaking of the bathroom, I need to wash my hands,” Devin said.
The waitress arrived with three overflowing plates of food a moment after he left. Devin’s chicken-fried steak was smothered in gravy alongside a pile of thick-cut fries. Sanjay had apparently ordered a Cobb salad with a waffle on the side. Cara was dying todig into her eggs, or cut into her pancakes, or eat one of the fries that had fallen off Devin’s plate onto the table.
She tried to wait.
Couldn’t.
Cara allowed herself one, then two bites of her home fries, which were every bit as crunchy, salty, oily, and delicious as she imagined. She took a tiny taste of her eggs before she made herself stop. She really couldn’t keep eating—not without letting them know their food had arrived.
Reluctantly, she got up from the table and went looking for Sanjay in the gift shop. She saw him right away, but before she could say his name, she saw Devin with him, partially hidden by a row of mugs and decorative shot glasses.
“You assume everyone is in some sort of crisis,” Devin was telling Sanjay.
“We found her alone in the woods, desperate enough to wear your filthy T-shirt.”
“You hate that shirt. I would have thought you’d be happy to have it stolen.”
“Be serious, Devin. We both saw how banged up she is. She tried to hide when she changed, but I saw her. It looked like someone beat the shit out of her and dragged her around.”
“She seemed happy enough on the hike out.”
“When people are in real trouble, they deflect. And she never made that phone call. I saw her go straight into the bathroom.”
Shit.
“But she didn’t want me to call the local authorities.”
