exit. A few steps from it, she stopped, checking her pockets, then shaking her head. She walked to the bank of cubbies where riders stashed backpacks and stuffed bears. She pretended to root around in the last cube, then darted to a nearby gap in the fencing. The attendant at the gate let out only a halfhearted “hey” as she squeezed through.
Sixteen minutes left.
Robyn didn’t run—too obvious—just walked quickly, scouring the attractions for one that would whisk her out of Adele’s reach for a few minutes. But the lines were now swollen with laughing, jostling teens who scared away anyone over twenty. Robyn would stick out like a sore thumb among them. What she needed was—
A profanity-laced outburst exploded behind her, and she glanced back to see Adele bowling through a knot of teens, her gaze fixed on Robyn, shouldering aside anyone who got in her path.
Okay, Bobby, browsing time is over. Pick something and hustle your ass in there.
Robyn skirted one large group. Then she saw the answer, shimmering and winking under blinding floodlights. A house of mirrors.
She jogged over, startling the dozing attendant. Clearly not one of the more popular attractions at the fair tonight. All the better. Robyn flashed her wristband, climbed the steps and dashed into the maze.
She snaked down the first few corridors, feeling her way, paying little heed to her surroundings until, deciding she was in deep enough, she slowed.
Think you can find me anywhere, Adele? Try this.
She leaned against the cool glass wall, smiling as she caught her breath. Beyond the trailer, the lights of the fair flashed, distorted bubbles of color.
Uh, Bobby . . . You shouldn’t be able to see that. Not through mirrors.
She told herself it was an illusion, that the lights were actually inside the trailer, reflecting off the mirrors. Then she saw the distorted shape of a man carrying a child on his shoulders, the little one’s white shirt glowing.
A house of mirrors? No, she was in a house of glass.
Don’t panic, Bobby. You’re the only one in there, right? If you can’t see the faces of people outside, Adele can’t see yours from out there.
But that didn’t matter with Adele. She could find Robyn anywhere.
The trailer steps creaked. A figure appeared at the distant entrance. Robyn wheeled and stumbled the other way. Three strides, and she smacked into a pane of glass. Both hands shot out, feeling her way, finding glass in front and to either side, and then she understood the idea of a glass maze. You could see the exit sign, but couldn’t get to it, banging around like a bird caught in a sunroom.
She kept feeling. Glass in front and beside, trapped—
Bobby? Relax. You’re just caught in a dead end.
She turned and saw the other figure moving through the corridors. She could make out only a light-colored shirt and dark pants, a description that could fit half the people at the fair.
Take a deep breath . . . then get the hell out of there, Bobby.
Robyn headed back the way she’d come, sweeping the sides and front, taking any turn that would bring her closer to that exit sign. The other person—she refused to think of it as Adele—kept moving, too, getting closer, then farther away as she navigated the maze.
Finally, Robyn saw the exit sign right ahead, above the glass, so close she could jump—
She smacked into the wall.
She frantically ran her hands around all three sides. The exit was right there. She could see the steps, the faces of passersby, just one pane of glass separating them.
She turned around. The other figure was closer now, no more than ten feet and a few glass panes away. A woman with dark blond hair and a yellow shirt. Just like—
Don’t think, Bobby. Just keep moving.
But moving meant getting closer to Adele. She kept picturing the gun and her knees locked. Finally she closed her eyes and, feeling her way, took one step, then another. The junction that led to the exit couldn’t be far. She’d just taken a wrong turn.
Only she hadn’t. There hadn’t been another route all along that back corridor. Finally she reached the end, turned, and turned again, each move bringing her closer to that searching figure.
Just keep going. If she made it to the entrance, that was good enough. Ignore Adele. It was a public place—
At a smack against the glass, Robyn jumped and even as she turned, the memory of Adele at the taxi window resurfaced and she knew—
There