I hate having no choice.He watched the traffic around them.It was light, easy to spot a tail in, but Delgado kept checking and rechecking.Something didn’t smell right.His instincts were in a frazzle.
Rowan had leaned back, her head tipped against the headrest and her eyes half-closed.She looked sleepy.
He didn’t blame her.
“Go ahead and rest,” he said, quietly.“If you want, I’ll wake you up for lunch.”
She gave him a startled glance, and then her eyes drifted closed.After a long ten minutes, her breathing evened out, and the flush of sleep rose in her cheeks.The tingling along Delgado’s skin intensified.
Are they tracking her?They couldn’t be—nothing to get a pattern from.They never had a chance to scan her in a chair, so they couldn’t…ah, shit.
He was assuming their technology was still the same, he realized.Even if Sigma wasn’t scanning for her, he needed to trust his instincts.Maybe he was just afraid of fucking this one up.
He settled himself into driving.He had some thinking to do.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
She crawled.It took forever, the kitchen floor spreading away in all directions like a desert plain.Her hands smacked against linoleum, the copper smell of blood filled her nose, and she heard the awful chilling little gurgle?—
“Rowan.Wake up.”
She crawled on the kitchen floor.Daddy was bleeding, and Hilary screamed.
“Wake up, angel.Wake up.”
Rowan leapt into full consciousness, her heart pounding.His hand was on her shoulder.The car had stopped.
She must have fallen asleep again after lunch, because it was dark now.Streetlights bathed a parking lot with a yellowing glare.She blinked, and looked up at Delgado.“Hotel,” he explained.“I’ll go get us a room.Stay in the car, okay?I’ll be right back.”
Rowan nodded.He looked like he might say more, but he just nodded and opened his door.She watched him walk across the parking lot and into the huge white hotel.
This looked like a city.The sky was orange with reflected light, and she’d smelled winter air and car exhaust when he’d opened his door.Rowan found she was clutching the purse he’d bought her, and she made her fingers loosen by the simple expedient of taking a deep breath.
How had this happened?
She could open up the car door and bolt, she supposed.There was a street with a bus shelter, and beyond that, another well-lit street where she could see cars going past, even at this hour.A 7-11 sign was just visible, not far away.She could call the police.She probablyshouldcall the police.
She unlocked the car door.He’d told her that the police were ontheirside, but of course he would tell her that.
He hasn’t lied about anything yet.Her fingers played with the doorhandle.He’d left her alone out here—and left her alone in the bookstore, too.She could have asked to make a phone call, or even used his cell.She could have dialed 911, faked an epileptic fit, done anything.
Thetouchtold her he was serious.He wanted to keep her safe.He obviously thought the other people were a threat, and unless he was a sociopath or delusional, he wouldn’t be able to fool her.He honestly believed she was in danger, and his actions made sense in that context.Or at least, most of them did.
She sighed, frustrated, and moved in the car seat.I want to run.She would never be able to go to the track again, never feel the weightlessness of an hour without worry ever again.
She wondered if anyone had found her father’s body yet.Had the neighbors called the police?What about Hilary?
Another more awful thought struck her.Suppose the police thoughtRowanhad killed them?
That’s ridiculous.The evidence wouldn’t hold up in court.
But logic dictated that one of the simplest ways to catch her would be having the police look for her.And the easiest way to get the police to do so would be to accuse her of murder.
Murdering her father and best friend.
Rowan flinched.Sometimes her brain worked too well.She settled back into the car seat, biting at a fingernail, trying to find a hole in her logic.A flaw in her reasoning.
None came to mind.
