They’re keeping us apart on purpose.
Shit.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be awkward. I just—her picture has beeneverywhere, and you look just like her.”
I waved it off. “If my opinion counts for anything, a little awkwardness is okay. I think the world needs more people who are willing to be uncomfortable to make sure someone else is okay. Someday, someone might need a person like you to step in for them.” I smiled. “I’m good, though.” I made a show of looking for Jude. “As long as he gets kettle corn and not movie theater butter.” I stuck out my tongue, pretended to gag, and went all in on the fact that Jude had stalked mereallywell.
The woman laughed, like she was in on what seemed to be an inside joke in a totally normal relationship.
The cashier finally loped behind the register and punched a few buttons to get it running just as Jude peeled away from the guy and beelined for me.
“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile as he dropped the box of microwave popcorn onto the counter. “Took me a minute to find the kettle corn.”
Jackpot.
Seemingly satisfied with the story we’d told, the woman offered a polite, “Have a good one,” and hurried off to meet up with her man.
I started getting antsy as the cashier slowly counted out the change. I took the coins while Jude grabbed the bags and headed to the truck.
The moment we were in the privacy of the cab, Jude looked at me. “Are we in trouble?”
The couple had made it back to the register with their few items and were staring out the glass doors at the truck.
“Yep,” I said as I buckled up. “We got made.”
Adrenaline began to simmer inside of me as Jude pulled out of the lot. But instead of mixing with fear the way it had when Jude first abducted me, it swirled with something else.
Determination.
We were going to get away with this . . . or we were going to die trying.
29
JUDAH
Monday, June 2 | 9:06 a.m.
“Sit tight,” I said, pulling into a secluded lot at a trailhead. I put the truck in park and left it idling as I unbuckled. This would be quick, so I didn’t bother cutting the engine. I left Amelia in the cab in the trailhead parking lot and moseyed toward the start of the trail.
There was a dog poop receptacle a few yards in that was well shaded under the foliage. Thanks to federal funding cuts to national parks, the rangers and staff were stretched thin. Luckily for me, it meant the refuse bin was a premium spot for a dead drop. No one would dig through dog shit to see what was at the bottom.
I lingered at the stand for a moment, making sure I was alone, before I lifted the lid to the bin and stuck my hand inside.
Thankfully, everyone who had used the bin had bagged up their shit—literally. I felt the thick plastic bag at the bottom of the bin and lifted it out.
I could have kissed whoever on Cole’s team had double-bagged the package. I discarded the outside layer in the bin and tucked the package under my arm for the walk back to the truck.
Amelia was watching intently from the front seat. Her shoulders dropped with relief when I emerged from the trees.
I hopped behind the wheel and handed her the package. She turned it carefully, like she was examining an ancient artifact. “So this is the super-secret package?” Amused eyes twinkled with curiosity. “Is it a bomb?”
“No, smartass,” I said with a chuckle as I pulled out of the lot and turned onto the road. “Aged IDs, train tickets, and bus tickets.”
“AgedIDs?”
“It means they’re fake but the forger added a digital history to the ID. It means you used your ID to purchase those tickets. It’ll show things like speeding tickets. Anything you’ve done in real life is attached to that license. If we get caught and someone runs your ID, it won’t look brand new.”
“It tells a story.”
