Escape

Part 9

The police told me Chris and his parents flew up to Swiftcreek for my mother's funeral. Cancer, they said. She'd been sick for a long time, but never sought treatment.

"Of course not. Chemo, chemicals--all of those toxins. They're against God and nature," I said, repeating one of Dad's lessons. It had taken me a while to get over that particular rule, but discovering Midol my first year in Austin was like a gift from heaven.

Chris thought it was strange I wasn't at the service. Dad told him I was away at a summer camp. The pastor said I was staying with my aunt. Since Chris's mom was my only aunt, that raised a red flag. The kicker though was when Mrs. Hudson said she had heard I was staying with my grandparents.

My grandparents have been dead since I was five.

Then Mrs. Hudson told him about the cake, and the soda, and the check out card.

Chris called in a few favors from a friend he knew at the FBI. By the time I'd seen the newscast, they'd been less than hopeful that I'd be found alive.

"My best case scenario was that you'd be found on the streets in Boise, completely strung out," Chis said, happy tears in his eyes. He was clutching a cup of coffee with the Annie's Dinner logo on it. "Are you really okay?"

I nodded and looked down into my own mug. I'd basically demanded to be sent back. Sent back home. At first, it was a challenge. I wanted to face down my parents for what they had done. But I was starting to regret the decision. My stomach was in knots. The last thing I wanted at the moment was to see my dad. Chris assured me that I wouldn't have to; he was being transferred to a more secure facility than the drunk tank in Swiftcreek.

I looked out the window of the dinner, at the police station across the street. Most of the FBI agents had packed up already, their black SUVs leaving nothing but a cloud of dust behind. The cars from the park rangers and the state police were pulling away, leaving just the two Swiftcreek cruisers and a van from the state which would take my father to another cell in another county.

I didn't know what to say to Chris. Thank you didn't seem right. I wasn't sure what I would be thanking him for. Dredging up the past? I liked being Janet Rochester. I never wanted to go back to Willow Compton. Willow was weak. She took orders and never questioned why. She hid in her room and prayed for a savior. I shifted in my seat. I had been in such a hurry that I was wearing mismatched socks, and had accidentally grabbed the bra with the broken underwire. To top it off, the inseam of my threadbare jeans gave out during the security check at the airport. I sighed. As soon as this was over, I could go back to the motel and change clothes.

While we sat in alternating bursts of awkward silence and uncomfortable small talk, something happened across the street, behind the police station. A minute later one of the cruisers peeled away from the sidewalk, tearing down the road and disappearing into the thick forest that surrounded the town.

"What--?"

Chris half-rose from his seat as Will jogged across the street to us. Rushing in, he ran straight for Chris. "He got away--stole a car--hit the Sheriff over the head--"

"You stay here," Chris said to me quickly.

"No, I'm going. He'll go back to the house," I said, jumping up to follow them. There was no time to argue. I planted myself in the back of Chris's rental car before either of them could argue.

Chris drove, following the dirt and gravel side roads as fast as he could and letting Will give me a lecture on procedure and personal safety. My cousin had introduced him as his partner. I was still learning innuendo; I wasn't sure if he meant partner or partner. Or some combination of the two.