No, I had to keep moving. My body was shutting down, and if I stopped, I’d collapse. At the top of the next hill, I discovered I was close to the road again and there was a small shop perched on the corner.
In my excitement to get there, my foot hung on a branch and sent me tumbling to the ground. My cut broke open, and it was like Juric was slicing me with every breath I took.
The little store was a butcher shop, and the older man behind the deli counter froze when I burst through the door. I couldn’t imagine what I must look like. My feet were bare, caked in dirt, and there were probably still leaves tangled in my hair from when I’d fallen down the hill.
“Help,” I said. “I need to use your phone.”
He stared at me with total disbelief, understanding nothing.
Oh, no.I was a stupid American. Why hadn’t I tried harder to learn another language?
I made the gesture for a phone, but he said a bunch of things I didn’t understand.
What the hell was I going to do? I didn’t know where I was, how to communicate?—
“Osterhägen bier,” I said abruptly.
That did absolutely nothing to help. He’d go home to his family tonight and tell them the story of the belligerent, filthy woman who’d shown up in his store with no shoes and demanded beer.
I put my hand to my chest, trying to make him understand. “Osterhägen.”
He turned away to grab something off the back table. It was a newspaper, and he unfolded it, flattening it on top of the counter between us. I didn’t need to translate anything. The front page was a picture of the brewery on fire.
“Yes! Yes! Osterhägen.” I pointed to myself, the picture, and back again. “I was there.”
A thought darted through me.
This is taking too long and Juric will find you. And when he does, he’ll kill this man, who has already seen too much.
I dipped a shaky hand inside my shirt to extract Shawn’s business card and set it down on top of the newspaper. The logo on the card perfectly matched the one on the side of the burning building. I left my fingertips on the paper for a moment, struggling to let go.
“Call him, please. Tell him about me.” I made the phone gesture again, motioning to the card and then myself.
Worry creased the man’s face, and he said something that sounded alarming while pointing at my waist.
Blood stained my shirt below my arm.
“Shawn Dunn.Bitte,” I whispered, backing away until I was against the door.
He moved to come out from behind the counter, perhaps wanting to stop me, but I shook my head and put up my hands. For this to work, I needed him to stay put.
“Nein,” I said. “Nein.”
My wounded body forced the door open, and I went out into the overcast, gloomy day.
Giving up the card had been difficult, but it wasn’t anywhere near as difficult or risky as what I was about to do. The man in the shop would call Shawn. It had been too bizarre for him not to. If I somehow managed to get away, this would only prolong the inevitable. Juric would come after Jason and Laurel again.
There was no way I’d let him get away with what he’d done.
No, Shawn would tell Jason, and they’d devise a plan to save me and get the man hunting my sister. Jason would be able to strike offensively, and without a CIA agent standing in his way.
I wandered back the direction I’d come as the rain began to fall, putting distance between the butcher shop and myself, back to the broken stone wall. When Juric caught me, he wouldn’t suspect I’d made it that far and doubled back.
Because what sane person would do that?
He’d never know about the business card or the butcher shop. He’d continue to believe his location was safe, a secret.
Shit, this was the worst idea I’d ever had, and I was literally gambling with my life.
