The hill steepened a few extra degrees. Enough to throw her off. Her ruined left foot slid in the soft soil. The ligaments popped, she heard them go. The pain in her leg rose like someone had pushed the volume button on the remote and forgot to let go.
She screamed and dropped the knife and fell forward. Landed hard, flat on her face.
Crawl.
She grabbed the knife and crawled. She didn’t know what the bush was, but it had spiky green leaves and thorns. The branches hung low. She crawled around it, pulled her knees up, made herself small, tried not to think about the pain in her leg. She could see the road through it, which meant they could see her if they looked hard enough. But would they look at all?
She ran her hands through the crumbly dirt, smeared it across her face. Camouflage. No one had to teach her that one. The soil smelled faintly of sage. Surprise. Now she heard the car, saw its headlights tearing open the night. Closing fast. Not a car at all, a high-sided van, white, maybe the one they’d used to bring her here. It bounced along the rutted pavement.
Had she ditched the road fast enough?
She tucked the knife by her side. She couldn’t run anymore, but if Jacques came for her she still had a chance at putting the knife in him. If he killed her so be it, she’d die before she went back in that closet.
She tucked her head—
The van sped by, disappeared. She heard it stop at the chain. A door opened. Seconds later it slammed shut, and the van began to move again.
Okay, they were on their way to the house. In a minute or two they would find Rodrigo.
What then?
Would they take him to a hospital? Kira didn’t think so. Maybe they had a doctor they could call. But he wouldn’t be their priority. They’d have their eyes on the prize. Once they saw the bike and motorcycle were still in the garage they would know she had gone on foot.
But they couldn’t know she’d hurt herself, or how long she’d been gone. Even she couldn’t be sure. She thought no more than twenty minutes had passed since she’d trapped Rodrigo, but time had turned blurry, elastic. Rodrigo would be even more confused. Being newly blinded and all.
Jacques would have to worry maybe she’d already found a phone, called the cops. Maybe he’d just grab Rodrigo and run.
But she didn’t know who his bosses were. Maybe someone would be angry at him for losing her. Someone who could hurt him even more than the Spanish police. Then he’d have to look for her. And Mr. Magoo could follow the tracks she’d left.
What would he do if he found her?
Probably give her a prize for being so clever and resourceful, ha-ha.
Nothing she could do about it now. This bush was the best hiding spot within crawling distance. She smeared more dirt on her hands and face. In a way she was lucky, if she’d moved faster and been closer to the highway they might have seen her when they turned off.
They had to be at the house now.
She felt her heart fluttering, skipping beats. How did soldiers live with this fear every day? How did they not lose their minds? Her hand ached from gripping the knife.
She made herself count to twenty. Thought of her brother’s goofy smile. How her mom’s eyes had lit up when she’d seen the piano in the apartment in Barcelona. Of—
A scream from the house, carrying through the night. Rodrigo.
An engine backfired in the night. The scream ended as abruptly as a light going out.
Not an engine. A shot.
Guess Jacques had decided not to find a doctor for Rodrigo.
Nothing for a couple of minutes.
Then the van’s engine. It roared up the first hill, stopped at the chain, roared again as it came up the second rise.
Kira pushed herself into the dirt as the van appeared. It was speeding, bouncing hard on the broken road, no way they could see her.
It swerved and slowed as it approached the bush. Kira saw Lilly in the passenger seat, jaw set in fury. Lilly looked down the hill. Kira could swear they’d made eye contact.
Don’t stop—
The van sped off, its taillights streaking the night.
* * *
She stayed still until the red lights faded to pinpricks, then nothing.
They were gone. She’d done it. She’d escaped. She was free. Truly free this time.