At the moment, it looks more and more likely we’ll both land up there. But I can’t have her doing anything stupid. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”
She nods, all misplaced trust, and I look away.
Suddenly, I still.
“What is it?” Nolene asks. “What’s wrong?”
I cross to the window and stare out. My bedroom is upstairs and the window overlooks most of the street. “Have you seen that car before?” I ask. “The red Nissan?”
The Nissan is parked two houses away, on the opposite side of the road. From this distance, I can’t make out anyone inside, but the sight of the vehicle sitting there causes uneasiness to climb up my spine.
Nolene moves to stand next to me. “There’s sometimes a car parked on the road, but I don’t remember seeing a Nissan before.”
That means nothing. A good stakeout team will alternate vehicles, change surveillance spots.
“You think it’s the police?” she asks, her breathing accelerating.
“I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”
If it is the police, why haven’t they stormed the house? Why wait? Something doesn’t feel right.
I curl my hand into a fist. Complications have choked this mission from the start. Now events seem to be spiraling out of control. I want to punch something, but I doubt it’ll be enough to ease the pressure building up inside me.
Uncurling my fingers, avoiding the probing look in Nolene’s eyes, I head to the storeroom. “It’s time to leave.”
She pulls on her ski mask and follows me. I open the storeroom door. My heart lurches when I see Amy lying on the floor, unmoving.
“Amy!” I say sharply, kneeling next to her.
She doesn’t respond.
I shake her shoulder gently. “Come on, Amy, wake up.”
Still no response.
“Is she faking it?” Nolene asks.
Amy’s skin is filmed in a clammy sweat. I swallow. “You can’t fake this.”
Nolene removes her ski mask. “Looks like we’ve now got a mental patient on our hands.”
Guilt pierces what’s left of my conscience. Amy has retreated so far inside herself I have no idea how to bring her back. I freeze when I catch sight of her hands. Her fingernails are ragged, four of them bleeding. I glance over at the storeroom door. There are scratch marks on the wood.
What have I done?I wanted to scare Amy into giving up the name of the person she called, but this is another whole level of cruelty. I’m filled with revulsion at the man I have become.
“What do we do with her?” Nolene asks.
“I’ll sedate her for the trip.” I fetch the syringe from my bag. This probably isn’t the wisest move, and it might do more damage than good, but I can’t have Amy waking up and tipping into hysteria. Because of her delicate frame, I give her only a small dose of the sedative.
Sliding an arm under Amy’s shoulders, I pick her up, wincing at the pull on my cut as I cradle her against my chest. An unwelcome feeling of responsibility and protectiveness shoots through me. “Let’s go.”
I place Amy on the back seat of the RAV and cover her with a blanket, making sure her head is protected. Nolene sits with Amy in the back to keep an eye on her.
“Keep out of sight,” I order Nolene, opening the automated garage door. “If Hutchinson managed to trace the call and those are his hired heavies out there, I’m hoping we won’t be followed if they think someone’s still at the house guarding Amy.”
Crouched low, a muffled reply is Nolene’s only response.
I’ll have to come back later for my Land Rover. A sudden convoy of cars leaving will look suspicious. I reverse the RAV out of the garage, remote-open the gate and back out of the driveway onto the street.
