“I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you.” My voice trembles. “I’m sorry for Scarface. I’m sorry for getting you messed up in this.”
“It was my choice.”
“No, it wasn’t. A guy like you can’t turn your back on someone in need.” I sniff. “And the worst part is, you think you know me, but you don’t. You don’t know what I’ve done. This is just karma catching up with me.”
Dale moves to the edge of the bench, gripping the metal siding as he searches my face. “Tell me what happened.”
I open my mouth, then clamp it closed. “I can’t.”
“Look, whatever it is, I swear I don’t care. It won’t change how I feel about you.”
I pace to the other side of the cell. “It will . . . and it should.”
He tips his head, obviously hating the way I’m talking about myself. “What, Nicole? What did you do that was so terrible?”
Holding my breath, I count to five, then release it in a gush. The secret I’ve held within me for over two years is clawing to get out. The words tumble out, small and pathetic. “I killed my sister.”
Dale’s skin goes from white to transparent, his eyes wide with horror.
I fist my hands and look to the floor.
“Look at me.” Dale’s quiet command forces me to comply. My eyes dart to his and I’m locked in place. “You need to listen to me very carefully.” His voice is slow and controlled. “You did not kill your sister. She fell. It was an accident.”
Guilt and regret rush up inside me. “You don’t understand.” I swipe at fresh tears and swallow. “I was supposed to be looking after her and I . . .” My voice breaks, making it hard to continue, but I do. I choke and blubber my way through the story, reliving the sound of Jody’s fists hitting the glass in indignation after I locked her outside, and then her pleas for help, which I ignored until it was too late.
Dale’s face is etched with agony by the time I finally finish. My knees buckle and I slump to the concrete floor as the image of my dead sister crystallizes in my mind, the red stain slowly expanding underneath her head. I shake uncontrollably and press the back of my hand against my mouth.
Dale crouches down beside me. “You’ve never told anyone this before, have you?”
“No.” My voice is so small, emotion robbing it of any volume. “I didn’t even write it in my diary. I’ve never let it out.”
Dale leans in toward me, catching my eyes. “I know you think you don’t deserve any other chances, but you can’t give up now.”
I close my eyes and shake my head, an inevitable cold edging toward my heart, and lean my head back against the cell wall. “It doesn’t matter. Whether they find me or not, I’m dead either way. It’s over.”
“Nicky—”
I shake my head, cutting him off and standing tall. “When I die, you have to tell people the truth. You need to make sure the sheriff doesn’t pin anything on you. You have to make sure everyone knows what he did.” My voice starts pitching high as I climb toward hysteria.
“Stop talking,” Dale orders, standing up beside me. “Just shut up for a second.”
I press my lips together, tears sliding down my nose.
“Why do you think I can see you?”
I throw my hands in the air. “I have no idea.”
Placing his arms on the cell walls, on either side of me, Dale captures me in the corner. “I think it’s because you’re supposed to survive this.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know that.”
“Maybe I do. Maybe this is why God kept me alive in that car . . . for this situation right here.” His voice shakes with the force of his conviction.
“I don’t believe in God,” I mutter.
Dale’s gaze softens. “It doesn’t matter, because He believes in you.” Dale’s voice grows increasingly urgent. “Take this second chance, make something of your life. Please. Please, you have to fight.”
“I don’t deserve a second chance.”
“Nobody does. That’s the way grace works. Don’t throw this away.”
I gaze at his face, resisting the urge to run my finger down his scar. “Why do you want me to live?”
His cheeks tinge pink as he fights a sheepish grin. “Because I like you.”
I shoot him an acerbic smile. “No, you don’t, you put up with me.”
“No.” He leans toward me. His lips are less than an inch from mine as he whispers, “I really like you. The first time I saw you, you took my breath away. You were one of the reasons I wanted to quit home schooling and start at Barrington High.”
“What?” My shocked whisper comes out more like a breathy gasp.
He pushes his hair back and smiles. “I used to see you from my bedroom window sometimes, and I wanted to meet you so bad. I was seriously nervous the first time I said hello to you. You were so beautiful.”
If I wasn’t made of air, my body would be tingling right now, I just know it.
“I figured out pretty quickly that you’d never look at me the way I looked at you. But in spite of myself, I couldn’t stop watching you. There were these moments, when none of your friends were around, that I could almost see the real you. You looked so soulful, so sad.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I’ve spent all this time feeling alone, intentionally isolating myself, and yet Dale could see through it.
“I wanted to impress you so bad and when I found your iPhone, I thought it was my chance.” Dale presses his lips into a thin line, breaking eye contact with me.
Self-loathing swamps me. “I still can’t believe I called you Scarface.”
Dale’s head bows. “Yeah. I guess it was kind of the last straw for me. I figured you weren’t worth it . . .” He pulls his head back up, his eyes gliding over my face as if drinking in every detail. “But I was wrong.”
He tentatively reaches out to touch my face. Before I can stop myself, I lean into his hand and rest my cheek against his palm. Dale’s eyes glimmer with a smile.
My throat is tight as I finally whisper, “Okay. I’ll fight for this second chance. Promise you won’t let me screw it up.”
“I promise.” His grins down at me, looking more beautiful than I ever thought possible. “Nicky?”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“Let’s get the hell out of this cell and find you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FRIDAY, 9:40 AM
We stand in the middle of the cell and gaze at the thick metal bars.
I bite my lip and glance at Dale. “Okay, I can go through them, but then what?”
“You’ll need to find the key and bring it back here.”
I swear silently. “Okay.” I sigh. “Okay.”
Dale shoots me a winning smile and walks toward the cell bars. “Good luck.”
I let out two quick breaths, then close my eyes and step through them. It goes quickly this time. I’ll never get used to the sensation of walking through something, but hopefully I won’t have to for much longer. In the hallway, I spin around with a small smile.
“Good job.” The expression on Dale’s face makes me proud.
I give him a shaky grin and look down the corridor. “Okay, I’ll go exploring. You just wait for me here.”
Dale grins. “Good idea,” he says, the words dripping in sarcasm.
“Oh, shut up.” I laugh when I realize my faux pas. “I’m nervous.”
I creep toward the front of the station. A noise from Sheriff Hutton’s office distracts me. He’s inside it, pacing, and a visitor sits in one of his chairs. The sheriff looks annoyed as he nods at . . . is that Drue’s dad? If there’s one thing I know about our town mayor, it’s that he’s long-winded, so this meeting of theirs is working in my favor. The longer their meeting takes, the better. The sheriff glances at his watch in agitation.
I move quickly into the heart of the station, where the deputy sits at his messy desk, buried in a pile of paperwork. And next to his coffee mug . . . keys. A big ring of them, one of which must unlock Dale’s cell.
I start to reach for them, and then realize that the deputy will probably freak out when he sees the keys moving by some invisible force. I’ll have to distract him first.
The deputy sighs and scratches his shoulder, and I get an idea.
I run my fingers down the side of his neck.
He twitches and rubs the spot. I grin and do it again. This time he slaps it. I continue to torment the man until he jerks to a stand and moves away from his desk.
The female officer working at the desk behind him looks up. “You okay, Walter?”
“Yeah, I just feel like something’s crawling on me.”
“Let me take a look.” She leans over her desk to study his neck.
I step into the vacated space and snatch at the keys. My fingers slip straight through them.
Shit.
“Hmm, I’m not seeing anything,” the female officer says. “Maybe it’s gone down your shirt.” I glance behind me and Deputy Peck is pulling his shirt collar down for her to look. I have only moments until this is over and he returns to his desk.
I turn back to the keys and narrow my eyes. “You are coming with me.”
Concentrating hard, I put my index finger inside the key ring and slide it across the wooden desk. Like magic, it lands in my hand. I wrap my fingers around the precious cargo and make a beeline back to the cells.
I’m in the corridor when I feel them begin to slip.
“No!” I try to squeeze them tighter, but it’s no use. The keys land on the floor with a loud clank. The deputy’s head pops around the corner. He looks down the hall with a confused frown, then starts walking slowly toward me. Dropping to the floor, I give the keys a shove and, thankfully, they glide out of the center of the corridor, coming to rest in between two filing cabinets.
“Don’t look at the cabinets. Don’t look at the cabinets,” I say over and over, until he walks past them.
The deputy turns again and puts his fingers in his belt loops. His frown lines are deep with confusion, but eventually he shrugs and makes his way back to his desk.
I exhale and force my heart to start beating again.
As quietly as I can, I pull the keys from between the cabinets and shuffle them along the ground. I crawl on my hands and knees toward Dale, pushing the keys ahead of me.
As I come around the corner toward his cell, Dale chuckles. “You look a little ridiculous . . . but I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
I look up and wrinkle my nose at him. “Shut up.”
Dale squats down and reaches through the bars as soon as I’m close. He picks up the keys and searches for the right one.
I point at a small, flat key. “Try that one.”
Dale tries to get the right angle and slot it into the hole, but before he can get it in, we hear footsteps down the hall.
Dale shoves the keys into his pocket and dashes over to his bench. He’s just feigning a look of despair when the deputy’s head appears.
“What’s the noise?” the man says gruffly.
Dale looks at him with forced confusion. “What do you mean?”
The deputy’s bushy eyebrows make a deep V. “Don’t get smart with me, kid. I heard a noise.”
Dale shrugs. “I’m sorry, sir, but it wasn’t me.”
The man’s eyes narrow, but before he can retort, I run my finger down his neck again. The deputy twitches and slaps the spot. I do it again. He mumbles an irritated curse, then spins on his heel, heading for the men’s room.
Dale shakes his head and just looks at me, his smile saying enough to make me want to swoon.
I dip my head. “We better hurry, before he comes back.”
Dale pulls out the small, flat key, trying to work more quietly this time. He slips it into the lock and tries to turn it.
It’s not the right one.
“Crap!”
“It’s okay, Nicky. We’ll find the right one.” Dale’s voice is calm and reassuring.
Even so, I dance from toe to toe as he tries more keys, until two later the lock clicks open.
We both freeze at the sound, but no one heads our way.
Dale slides the door open the smallest amount possible and wriggles through.
“You’re free!” Before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms around his neck. He shivers and I jump away from him. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” His smile is golden.
Together, we carefully move toward the front of the building. Dale stays crouched low, and I dart forward ahead of him to make sure he’s safe. The sheriff is still pacing around his office, focused on Mayor Stratham. The female officer is buried in her work and thankfully for us, the round-faced receptionist is nowhere to be seen. Just as I think Dale is in the clear to move into the main area, the deputy comes strolling out of the men’s room, headed back to Dale’s now-empty cell.
Panic flashes over Dale’s face.
“Run,” I say. “I’ll distract him.”
“But—”
“Just go.” I shove at Dale’s shoulders and he actually stumbles forward.
I race back down the hall toward the deputy, who’s wiping his face down with a paper towel.
I hold my breath, close my eyes, and run straight into him, passing through his body. He shudders and spins to look behind him.
I beckon him with my finger. “Yes, come this way.”
He slowly scans the walls around him, looking just a little freaked-out, then takes a cautious step back toward the cells.
“No!” I glance around and spot distraction number two. Running the opposite direction, I aim for the open filing trays stacked on the shelves along the wall. With as much force as I can muster, I swipe them from the shelves. Papers scatter everywhere.
The deputy reappears. “Aw, shit.”
“Everything all right back there, Walter?” the female officer calls.
“Yeah.” The deputy sighs. “Just the wind wreaking havoc again. We have got to find another home for these file trays.” He bends down and starts collecting the strewn papers.
I jump over him and head for the exit.
Dale is ducking beneath the front counter. I was hoping my file tray distraction would pull both officers away, but it didn’t work.
“If you try walking out that door, the female officer will see you straight away.” I scan the quiet station for another escape route.
Dale nods, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“How are we supposed to do this?”
Dale mouths, Distraction?
I throw my hands up. “Another one? I’m running out of ideas.”
I watch Dale’s knuckles turn white as he squeezes the keys in his hands, and I am suddenly inspired.
“Use the keys. Throw them across the desk or something. They’ll turn around and look and then we can run out the door.”
Dale thinks for a moment then nods.
“Okay, one . . . two . . . three.”
The keys swoosh through the air, followed by a loud clunk. The female officer yells, “What the hell was that?” before rummaging on the floor behind her desk.
Dale rushes past me and we fly through the exit.
Nervous giggles overtake me as I race around the side of the building, following Dale through the parking lot and down a sidewalk into a residential area. Once we get a few blocks away, Dale leans against a tree to catch his breath.
“I can’t believe I just broke you out of jail.” I wring my hands together. “As soon as they find out you’re gone, all hell is going to break loose.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“Well, what
now?” I try to keep the hysteria from my voice.
Dale scans the quiet neighborhood around us. “We go find Adam and get your body before Sheriff Hutton does.”
“School is, like, five miles away. How are we supposed to get there?”
He cringes. “Care for a joyride?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FRIDAY, 10:21 AM
I gape at him. “Are you out of your mind?”
“What else are we supposed to do?” He moves along the sidewalk, peering into windows of cars, looking for unlocked doors. “We don’t have time for a five-mile run.”
I chew on my thumbnail as I trail reluctantly behind him. “And if you get caught?”
Dale stops dead, his gaze boring into mine. “Nicky, the sheriff could get to you before I do. We can’t let that happen.”
A shudder runs down my spine. “Joyride it is, then.” I spot a four-door sedan parked across the road. “What about that red one?”
Dale squints at it, then shakes his head. “No, let’s take the gray one on this side.”
I grimace at the pale, beat-up exterior, the dent in the passenger door, and the tired sag of the wheels. It looks as if it’s made of tin. “What is it with you and crappy cars? That’s a piece of junk.”
“Yeah, a piece of junk that probably won’t have an alarm.”
Dale tests the driver’s side, but it’s locked. Bending down, he peers in the window. A small smile flitters over his lips.
“They forgot to lock the back door.” Running around the car, he opens it up and climbs through to the driver’s seat. “Keep an eye out for me.”
He reaches below the steering wheel and pulls out some wires.
“Of course he knows how to hotwire a car,” I mutter while scanning the street to make sure no one is watching.
The car revs to life and I jump in. There are piles of trash on the floor—takeout wrappers, empty Coca-Cola cans, and a scrunched up T-shirt that’s growing something on the sleeve. I move away from it, trying not to gag.
Dale reaches over me and slams the back door closed.
He drives slowly and carefully in order not to draw any unnecessary attention. With any luck, the sheriff is still pacing in his office and the deputy is still stacking hundreds of sheets of paper. But it’s only a matter of time before someone checks on Dale and the alarm is raised.
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