“Scott, no.” She pushed at his hands.
He gripped her wrists gently, feeling her pulse race against his fingertips. “Keep it safe for me. They’ll just take it away during in-processing.” He liked knowing that his pendant was being warmed by her skin. That she would have a piece of him with her no matter what.
She took a deep breath and nodded as she stepped out of his embrace. “What’s your plan?”
Arms already aching with her absence, he gave her the three-second version.
Outside, the sirens stopped.
His lips brushed hers one last time. It wasn’t enough, would never be enough. “Ready?”
Without answering, she looped her bag over both shoulders like a makeshift backpack and dropped to her knees.
Red-and-blue lights flashed through the spaces around the living room blinds.
Scott gripped the doorknob.You can do this.
Youneedto do this.
He opened the front door and stepped into a blinding spotlight, hands held high.
At his feet, hidden from sight by the low brick safety wall that ringed the exterior walkway, Valerie crawled on all fours toward the inner corridor that bisected the building and housed the stairs.
It also housed the laundry room.
“Scott Kramer?” one of the cops said through a bullhorn. Three others stood behind their car doors and trained their rifles on his chest.
His throat turned dry. Maybe it was a mercy his victims had never seen him coming. “Yes.” He nodded in case his hoarse reply wasn’t loud enough and kept his hands up.
Valerie disappeared from his peripheral vision as she crawled around the corner.Hurry.
The cop with the bullhorn said, “Don’t move. I have—” She waved toward someone to Scott’s left. “Ma’am, get back inside and lock up behind you.”
A loud slam came from a couple doors down, followed by thethunkof a deadbolt sliding home.
“I have three rifles trained on you. Keep your arms up. There’s a team coming your way.”
The rest happened in a blur. Within seconds, cops swarmed him from both sides, yelling commands, grabbing him roughly as they pushed him to the ground with his hands at his back. Cold concrete skinned his cheekbone. A knee impaled his back. Cuffs were clamped on his wrists.
He didn’t resist, didn’t speak.
A broad-shouldered officer used Scott’s elbow to tug him to his feet and started reciting his rights as he marched him toward the staircase. In the parking lot, he was stuffed into the back of a squad car that smelled faintly of vomit, though the hard plastic seat appeared clean enough, and the interior was blessedly warm.
He leaned his head against the cool window. The cops stood in a huddle outside, their mouths emitting frozen puffs of air as they talked. The whole scene was too familiar. At fifteen he’d been scared out of his fucking mind.
Not much had changed.
Two weeks ago, he would have done anything to avoid going back to jail.
Now, he’d skip through the goddamned doors if it meant keeping Valerie safe. As safe as she could be out there on her own. He clenched his fists. Had he screwed up? What if he got himself arrested and Hollowell got to Valerie because Scott wasn’t there to protect her?
Calm. The fuck. Down.Valerie had done fine on her own for a couple of weeks. Sure, he’d been watching her, but that meant he knew how well she could take care of herself. She probably didn’t need him at all, and might even be better off without him around as a distraction.
She might be better off without him period.
A selfish part of him hoped she never realized it, even as he prepared for the worst.
His only crime was aiding and abetting a fugitive—which technically made him an accessory to any of her crimes—but if he were convicted for murdering the FBI agents, all the love in the world wouldn’t save him.
