off, apparently. The thought provided her some small bit of relief—she’d been afraid he might have met with a much worse fate. A piece of white paper was on the bed, and she moved toward it, slowly, and then read the brief message scrawled out in Ronny’s rough handwriting.
Charlotte, so sorry, hon, I was doing this for us. For you. But there could be some big trouble, so watch yourself. I’ll try to straighten it out, but won’t be in touch for a while. Love, Ronny
Charlotte stared at the note, her voice thin.
“Oh, Ronny, what have you done?”
She grabbed the note as she heard the screen door in the front hallway squeak open and shut. EJ. She had no time to find clothes, she had to go. She had to find her brother before he did another stupid thing.
Quickly, she pushed up the window by the headboard of the bed and swung her legs over the sill, unconcerned at this point what further damage happened to the dress. She was done in on that score anyway. Kicking her shoes off, she slid to the damp ground, heard EJ calling her name somewhere inside the apartment, and took off at a run.
She knew the backlots well enough to find her way to the next neighborhood, and looked around frantically for a taxi. She couldn’t trust EJ—he had a job to do, but that job meant she could be spending the rest of the night in a police station ratting out her brother instead of looking for him, and she wanted to find him before the cops did. Or before whatever nasty people who were after them did.
Luck was on her side. She didn’t see EJ behind her, and a taxi pulled up at the curb. She got in, but wasn’t sure where to tell the driver to go. It hit her then: Rascal’s. It was a dive on the edge of town where Ronny and his friends hung out. She’d only been there once or twice, and she didn’t really know anyone, and doubted they’d remember her. But they might know where Ronny is.
She directed the driver, and sat back, chewing on her thumb as they drove to the outer edges of the city, where there were fewer people and darker streets, but she barely noticed. Spotting a twenty-four-hour convenience store, she asked the driver to stop and ran in, purchasing a pair of cheap scissors before moving on.
While she thought about her plan, and how she might contact Ronny, she ruthlessly cut the French lace she wore off at the knee, going as evenly as she could so she’d look a little more casual and avoid drawing any attention to the bloodstain on the hem. Smoothing her hair, she handed the driver her credit card and hoped she had enough money on it to pay for the fare, and exhaled in relief when he handed it back to her without a problem.
The cab drove away, leaving her standing in the dusty parking lot with the sounds of tree frogs and other night creatures humming behind her and the booming sound of rock music and raucous laughter thrumming from the bar.
Straightening her back, she took a deep breath and headed for the door. She wasn’t in any danger. It was just a bar, which meant there were waitstaff, bartenders and cooks—no one was going to hurt her here. The most she might have to endure would be some comments or leers, and she could deal with that.
EJ RACED BACK OUT to the sidewalk, looking around sharply, and didn’t see a thing. Sarah was gone, and Ian was on his cell phone in the front seat of his car. EJ slid in beside him, covering his mouth with his palm for a second, and then looked at Ian, who clicked off his phone and met EJ’s glance.
“I lost her.”
“What? How could you lose her? She was right there in the window.”
“She must have bolted through the back when I came in, or while we were dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s out here.” He slammed the heel of his hand into the dash. “Shit. I can’t believe we let this happen.”
“Want to put out an APB?”
EJ considered. “No. It’s still possible whoever’s after her and her brother could be clued into the police communications.
Charlotte, so sorry, hon, I was doing this for us. For you. But there could be some big trouble, so watch yourself. I’ll try to straighten it out, but won’t be in touch for a while. Love, Ronny
Charlotte stared at the note, her voice thin.
“Oh, Ronny, what have you done?”
She grabbed the note as she heard the screen door in the front hallway squeak open and shut. EJ. She had no time to find clothes, she had to go. She had to find her brother before he did another stupid thing.
Quickly, she pushed up the window by the headboard of the bed and swung her legs over the sill, unconcerned at this point what further damage happened to the dress. She was done in on that score anyway. Kicking her shoes off, she slid to the damp ground, heard EJ calling her name somewhere inside the apartment, and took off at a run.
She knew the backlots well enough to find her way to the next neighborhood, and looked around frantically for a taxi. She couldn’t trust EJ—he had a job to do, but that job meant she could be spending the rest of the night in a police station ratting out her brother instead of looking for him, and she wanted to find him before the cops did. Or before whatever nasty people who were after them did.
Luck was on her side. She didn’t see EJ behind her, and a taxi pulled up at the curb. She got in, but wasn’t sure where to tell the driver to go. It hit her then: Rascal’s. It was a dive on the edge of town where Ronny and his friends hung out. She’d only been there once or twice, and she didn’t really know anyone, and doubted they’d remember her. But they might know where Ronny is.
She directed the driver, and sat back, chewing on her thumb as they drove to the outer edges of the city, where there were fewer people and darker streets, but she barely noticed. Spotting a twenty-four-hour convenience store, she asked the driver to stop and ran in, purchasing a pair of cheap scissors before moving on.
While she thought about her plan, and how she might contact Ronny, she ruthlessly cut the French lace she wore off at the knee, going as evenly as she could so she’d look a little more casual and avoid drawing any attention to the bloodstain on the hem. Smoothing her hair, she handed the driver her credit card and hoped she had enough money on it to pay for the fare, and exhaled in relief when he handed it back to her without a problem.
The cab drove away, leaving her standing in the dusty parking lot with the sounds of tree frogs and other night creatures humming behind her and the booming sound of rock music and raucous laughter thrumming from the bar.
Straightening her back, she took a deep breath and headed for the door. She wasn’t in any danger. It was just a bar, which meant there were waitstaff, bartenders and cooks—no one was going to hurt her here. The most she might have to endure would be some comments or leers, and she could deal with that.
EJ RACED BACK OUT to the sidewalk, looking around sharply, and didn’t see a thing. Sarah was gone, and Ian was on his cell phone in the front seat of his car. EJ slid in beside him, covering his mouth with his palm for a second, and then looked at Ian, who clicked off his phone and met EJ’s glance.
“I lost her.”
“What? How could you lose her? She was right there in the window.”
“She must have bolted through the back when I came in, or while we were dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s out here.” He slammed the heel of his hand into the dash. “Shit. I can’t believe we let this happen.”
“Want to put out an APB?”
EJ considered. “No. It’s still possible whoever’s after her and her brother could be clued into the police communications.
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