♥
*
Misty's body hurt. She'd been in bad situations before. From what she was able to piece together, she'd been in much worse, and come out of it nominally alive. But she thought she had more time. Fleeing to a po-dunk little nowhere place had been intended to throw her pursuers off the trail. Now it seemed as if it had no effect at all.
"I need to get out of here," she said, almost unaware of what she was saying.
"We need to get you someplace where you can be protected," the Sheriff answered. "Even if we have to go real slow about it."
The words were a joke, but he didn't do much to make it sound like one. Misty soured and looked out the window, watching the houses pass them by on the side of the road. The speed felt like she could have made a leisurely walk to keep up.
Vaguely, she knew that wasn't the case, but there had to be a better way to do this, hadn't there?
"Don't you guys have a towing company around here, or something?"
"Flu," he said. "Sick with the flu."
"You're joking. In this weather?"
"I don't know, and I'm not the guy's doctor. But we've got exactly one, and he's out of commission right now. Unless you were thinking we should wait there while a tow comes from the next town over? It's only fifteen minutes, if they hurry. But you know, they might worry about breaking the speed limit and they might get hungry on the way over, so who knows how long it actually ends up being."
Misty went quiet and pressed her lips together. She had to figure out some kind of plan. They were sitting ducks here. It took them almost ten minutes to a mile.
"I'm…" she let out a long breath. "I'm scared, Sheriff."
"I can understand that," Grant said. "But there's nothing much I can do until I get to the station, alright?"
"Yeah," she said. "I know. But I'm not happy about it."
"Look, I don't know what you have coming down on your head here, but here's what I can try to do." He took his eyes off the road. At this speed, he had what seemed like forever to react to changing conditions; she guessed he could have taken a nap. "You need someplace to stay, right? And I need another ride. So let me make a call, and maybe I have someplace a little closer by."
"You sure?"
"No," Grant answered. "Which is why I'm calling."
He pulled a phone from his pants and fumbled with it one-handed. She eyed the phone suspiciously. It had been a weeks since Misty carried one. If there was anything that she missed, it was having something that was constantly linked to the web. Something that let her occupy herself when there was nothing else to do, on long bus rides and hikes.
If there was anything that she didn't miss, it was having a way that the men after her could track her, no matter how hard she tried to keep them away. This was just another way of tracking her.
She tried to remind herself that it didn't matter if she was being tracked, because there way no way that they couldn't find her in this wreck. It didn't do much to break the association, though. She let out a breath and watched the houses pass slowly.
Most of them had windows that were completely dim. One or two had the blinds closed, but light seeped in around the edges enough to let her know that there were people inside. The only ones of interest were the ones where the television showed through.
The programs were the same here as they were anywhere. It seemed a little strange to her to be passing by houses in the night, in a little town where nobody went and apparently folks didn't bother to leave, either, and to see them watching shows about high-powered city executives, or glitzy fashion programs.
Then again, maybe it was something to do with wanting what you can't have. She'd been here once. What had made her leave? Was that what it was with her? She wanted to get out because she wanted to live the glamorous city lifestyle?
Well, D.C. was a terrible life. It wasn't glamorous at all. She'd spent time, as far back as she could remember, flying back and forth to Paris, London, L.A., Shanghai, Tokyo, and one time she'd gone to Dresden.
A quote bubbled to the forefront of her mind, though she couldn't say who originally said it, that every city looks the same from the inside of a hotel room. Well, that was equally true when you were let out for a music concert, as it did when you were let out to do any other job. Even murder pretty much doesn't change anything about the city. It changes the nature of the job, though, that much she had to admit.
She looked over at the Sheriff. What if he knew that she was a killer? Would he still think that she looked like the girl he claimed that she used to be? Would he still look at her like he missed her? Or would he turn her right in?
He was a Sheriff. The answer ought to have been obvious. She wondered anyways. It was easier to wonder than to know that he'd condemn her in a second. She hadn't chosen that life. As soon as the opportunity arose, she'd gotten out. Some other woman had chosen her entire life, and she'd chosen wrong.
Maybe if Misty knew that woman's whole story, she could have gotten into the same places, no problem. She could have been comfortable with the work that she'd been doing because she knew that it was the right thing to do, or that the world had wronged her and it didn't matter what was right and what was wrong. Like some kind of TV movie villain.
But she didn't have any of that. She just had a skillset that she couldn't explain, and a handful of memories that she'd rather not have had. And, as a result of those two things, she had a bunch of armed men coming after her.
Now she had one other thing, something that she hadn't had for the weeks that she'd been on the run. Maybe it would make all the difference, or maybe there was nothing that would. She had someone who was willing to help her. As long as she managed to keep her secret, he wouldn't abandon her. She just had to hope that would be enough.
"Yes, sir," Grant said. "I understand, sir."
He put the phone down.
"Who was that?"
"The guy I said I had to call."
"And who's that?"
"The mayor," he said. "If you must know."
"Oh. So what's the news?"
"Well, there's good news, and there's bad news. Which would you rather hear first?"
"The bad news," Misty said. "If I had to pick."
"The bad news is, we're taking the long way home, just like before. So I suppose there's not much change there."
"The good news?"
"The good news is that you're famous," Grant said. There it was again, a joke that didn't touch his tone even for an instant. "Apparently, you showing up in town was like kicking a hornet's nest, and now there's all kinds of heat coming down. So I'm in deep shit if I stick my neck out for you."
Misty knew exactly what she was hearing, because it was what she'd been afraid she would hear first thing. They didn't know everything; that wouldn't have been productive. No, she was a domestic terrorist. Or she was a murder suspect. Or maybe they pegged her for the things that she was actually responsible for, but they pretended that there was no rhyme or reason to it beyond her love of mayhem and death.
She leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath through her nose and waited for the rest of the speech to come. For him to tell her that he was going to turn her in. It wasn't like Misty could blame him. But the car remained silent.
"So what, then?"
"I don't know."
"You can't override him?"
"What?"
"You can't override the mayor?"
"Why would I be able to do that?"
"You're the county Sheriff," Misty said.
"Why would I want to do that, even if I could?"
She let her eyes fall to her lap. She felt like someone had let all the air out of her balloon. It wasn't a feeling that she relished. But it was the feeling that she had, and there was no getting around it now, not without figuring out what to do next. And she was afraid to ask the question.
"So... you're going to turn me in?" It felt like being stabbed, just letting the words out of her mouth. But she needed to know.
"I didn't say that," Grant said. "You're not telling me everything. Maybe you're not telling me anything. But once upon a time, I cared for a woman who looked a lot like you. And for her sake, I'm going to do what I can."
"What happened?"
"Don't ask," Grant said.
The tone of his voice wasn't hard or angry. But there was something else there. If Misty didn't know any better she might have guessed that he was in some kind of pain. That he was upset by something. She let out a breath and looked over at him. He didn't seem any different than he had been before.
"So what's the next move then?"
"The next move is that I go back to the station. I don't know if I can override a mayor. I certainly can't take control of city property without his express go-ahead, no matter how much I am the Sheriff and therefor could, I don't know, arrest him if the warrant came through."
"And then what? They're going through official channels."
"That's right," Grant said. "They're going through official channels."
"Then if they come to get me, while I'm 'in protective custody,' then…"
"I'd be legally required to give you up, if the paperwork was all in order. I'm a Sheriff, so I can override a little bit. But I don't get to declare that we don't extradite to the Federal government. I could fight them off, maybe, for a little while, but it wouldn't do much good. I'd just get arrested, and unlike the situation you claim that you've got, where you didn't actually do anything, I would have pretty much openly defied a Federal order. I'd be a sitting duck."
"So you're going to turn me in?"
Grant pursed his lips. "I didn't say that. I told you already, I used to care a lot about what happened to Misty Glenn. And I'm not going to let her get hurt just because a few years passed."
Misty went quiet. She was unsure of what their relationship had been, before. Some inkling in the back of her mind had hinted that there might have been some kind of romance. Maybe puppy-love. Sometimes that read was wrong. It had happened more than once since her memories had gone away.
This was the first time that she'd read it wrong because she hadn't realized how much it had meant. She was right that there was a relationship, but she was wrong that it was just some youthful indiscretion. As far as Grant Holloway seemed to be concerned, it was his great love, and he was willing to do what it took.
Her mind immediately leapt into action. There was a lot that a woman with Misty's skillset could do with a man like that. She knew that she could manipulate him, if she worked at it. Because she knew that she had strings on him. But she found herself not wanting to pull them. There was something pure about the Sheriff's affection for her, something she didn't want to tarnish. It didn't hurt that he seemed to mentally separate his version of her from the past with the woman sitting beside him now.
At least, he made a good show of it, if he didn't.
"It's late," Misty said. The side of the road had a motel. She was tired, but she was always tired. She had something else on her mind. "You want to turn in?"
Grant looked at her. She nodded towards the motel. He looked at it. Then he looked back at her. She could see the gears turning in his head. She knew how to be subtle, when she wanted to be. Misty had no interest in being subtle at that moment.
Her skillset included seducing men, and sometimes the direct approach was the best one. She didn't need to get them into bed to get what she wanted, of course. It only took the hint, the promise, the suggestion. And sometimes the act itself was a cherry on top. All of that ran through her head, a reflex that she couldn't have turned off if she wanted to.
But she wasn't concerned with trying to seal his assistance. She wasn't thinking about how she could use him. She was thinking that she wanted into that shell of his. She wanted him to think of her like he thought of the woman who had disappeared somewhere along the way. She wanted to know who he was. Who he thought she was. Who he'd seen in that instant of recognition, in the station.
He turned away from her and put his eyes back on the road. He didn't tell her that he wasn't going for it. He didn't have to. His answer was as clear as day, and as much as she hated to admit it, nearly as painful.
She could have him, if she wanted him. She could get him believing the whole routine. It might be a challenge, because he knew, or thought he knew, what she was up to. It wouldn't be enough to stop her. It never had in the past, and it wouldn't be now.
But she didn't want to work for it. She wanted it to come naturally. She hated that, because it was about the least convenient possible thing in her life right now. In a world where she was being chased by the whole damn U.S. government, she just wanted to be able to give herself a break and let someone in for once. To get inside someone's defenses and live there. In a comfortable little world where people weren't trying to hurt each other all the time.
Then again, something had made her leave. Maybe the Sheriff wasn't everything that he was cracked up to be. Or maybe she was the one who'd hurt him. The grass isn't always greener on the other side.
The Sheriff turned. Misty wondered how long she'd been lost in thought, and how much further it would be. The trees cleared on the sides of the road, though, and she got her answer when they pulled up in front of the Sheriff's station.
And then she got another answer, to a question she hadn't asked. Because sitting out front of the station was a blue sedan with the nose crumpled. Misty wanted to scream. But she kept herself calm. They'd get out of this somehow. They had to. Because otherwise, she was dead.