Rules of Survival(21)

He nodded to the badge. “FBI. And you’re wanted for questioning in the murder of Melissa Morgan.”

“I didn’t kill my mother—but I think you know that already…”

“We won’t know anything until you’ve been questioned.”

“What is the FBI doing sniffing around a case like this?” Shaun asked. “It’s just one murder.”

“They’re not FBI,” I said, trying to tug him back. “The badge is fake.”

“I assure you it’s real,” the man said to Shaun. “You’ve got quite a colorful record. Assault and battery, identity theft, grand theft auto—and that’s just the list prior to hooking up with Patrick Tanner. Hand over the girl and we can make it all go away.”

I glanced sideways at Shaun. His jaw was tight and he was glaring at the man. Blazing anger rolled through me. A feeling so intense that all I wanted in that moment was to strike him. His righteous speeches about bad people belonging behind bars, yet he was just as much a criminal as Mom was!

“It’s a onetime deal,” the man said, taking a step closer. I started to back away.

Shaun didn’t. “I have no official record.”

The man smiled. It was an eerie grin that stretched all the way to his glasses. “Not yet—but that would be simple to remedy.”

Shaun laughed. “So I hand her over or you make trouble for me. That’s the deal?”

“A more than generous offer, considering that you’re currently obstructing justice.”

Mom and I had forged a lot of things—and if we couldn’t do it ourselves, then we knew someone who could. I could spot any number of fakes. Cash, passports, ID’s—and most badges.

“Except that they’re not justice.” I turned to Shaun. I couldn’t tell which way he was leaning, and I didn’t want to take a chance. “See how the eagle’s wings extend past those two top points? On a real badge, they stop right at them. Plus, the color is slightly off. It’s too bronzy. It’s a good fake—but still, a fake.”

Shaun seemed to consider both sides for a moment. He hadn’t made a move to break away and I was getting nervous. These guys were definitely not cops. If they somehow managed to get the cuffs off and Shaun walked away, they’d probably find my corpse in an oil drum about ten years from now.

I was about to continue my argument, possibly pointing out that the FBI really wouldn’t send five agents to bring in one girl, especially one without any kind of record, but Shaun’s hand tightened around mine. His fingers twitched once. Then twice. And just as I took a deep breath, he yelled, “Now!”

He sprinted forward and there was no choice but to follow. It happened so fast. We came within a foot of the man, and Shaun jerked his hand high. I pulled away, making sure the shackle chain was taut, and we essentially bowled over the man, catching him under the neck and sending him backward to the pavement with a horrific gurgling sound.

Shaun recaptured my hand and we bolted from the lot. I could hear the others yelling, their footsteps echoing against the wet pavement as they raced toward us.

Getting closer and closer.





Chapter Eight


“We need to lose them,” Shaun yelled as we darted across the street. The driver of a white Chevy Suburban slammed his brakes and leaned on the horn when we ran out in front of him. The squeal the truck’s tires made as they skidded across the blacktop made my stomach turn. But not as much as the voices behind us.

Voices that were getting closer.

“They’re catching up,” I huffed, surveying the area. The mall was just off the highway and other than a large box factory that looked like it’d been deserted for a while, the only other thing in sight was a junkyard. The mall would afford us more cover, and more of an opportunity to get lost in the crowd, but getting there would require backtracking, and it wasn’t worth the risk. The junkyard was dead ahead. Right now, it would have to do. “In there! We can try to lose them, then double back.”

We pushed through the large gap in the chain-link fence, and when I dared a look back, I saw the couple just getting to the other side of the road. For a moment a wave of hope washed over me. They were frantically looking up and down the road, not sure where we’d disappeared to. But chain man—the one who’d flashed his badge—came up behind them and pointed in our general direction without hesitation. They all turned and our eyes met.

“Move-move-move!” I pushed Shaun into motion as they tried to cross the busy street.

We raced down the main drag and around a pile of old big-rig tires. In the distance, I heard the faint rattle of the fence. They’d made it across.

“Over there,” I said, skidding to a stop. There was pile of crushed cars to our right, and several rows of uncrushed ones on the left. “Maybe we can hide in one of those.”

“No way,” Shaun said, tugging me away. “That’s the first place they’ll look. It’s the obvious choice.”

Shit. He made a good point. “Well, there’re too many of them. Five, I think, unless there were more skulking in the shadows.” I ticked them off on my right hand. “The couple, ponytail, chain guy, and smiling guy. I don’t like the odds of outrunning them.”

“Me, either.” He scanned the area, and I did the same. Everything was stacked in precarious-looking piles that offered little in the way of safe harbor. “I propose we fight.”