Death, and the Girl He Loves - Darynda Jones Page 0,16
pulled her bottom lip through her teeth, then as abruptly as a lightning burst, jumped off the desk and strolled out of the room. Right before she closed the door, she turned to me and said, “Do not leave this room.” Then she slammed the door.
What? Was I supposed to sit there and wait for her to come back and knife me? Not even.
“Holy crap, lock the door!” she yelled from the hallway.
I rushed forward and locked it. Not that it would help.
I turned to Crystal. “How did she get a master key?”
Her eyes were wide when she lifted her shoulders.
“Well, I have to finish packing.” I dived into my work again, sorting through my things. I brought way more than I’d thought.
“I still don’t get why you’re leaving,” she said.
I seemed to be hurting her feelings. “I have to get home. Back to New Mexico ay-sap. My grandmother called and my grandfather is in the hospital.”
I didn’t want to tell her too much too soon. If Wade thought she knew something, she could be in danger. I’d explain to her once I was gone. Once the danger of having me around had passed.
I didn’t want to call a cab from the school. It would look bad having one pull up in the middle of the night after curfew. I was certain the headmaster would be called. So, I packed up what I could, left Crystal my favorite pillow and a bracelet I’d bought on the trip over. It had the shape of New Mexico on it.
“Why New Mexico?” she asked, and I realized my mistake too late. I was supposed to be from Arizona.
After throwing my bag over my shoulder, grabbing my purse and phone, and stuffing the death threat into my pocket, I stood before her and said, “My name is really Lorelei McAlister. I’m from New Mexico, not Arizona. The rest I’ll have to explain to you once I’m away, once you’re safe.”
“Are you in the Witness Protection Program?” she asked, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings.
“Yes,” I said, lying like a dehydrated dog in July. “Yes, I am.”
She swore not to tell anyone. Ever. As long as she lived.
I put my hand on her arm. “Thank you. My family’s lives depend on it.”
I was going to hell.
* * *
I hefted my canvas bag with all my worldly possessions onto my hip. The strap was already cutting into my shoulder and I hadn’t even gotten past the campus grounds yet. The darkness left all kinds of shadows hovering around me, thick and menacing. Anyone could be waiting in them. Anyone could ambush me without a moment’s notice. I suddenly realized how utterly stupid my plan was. I should’ve called a cab regardless. What would the headmaster do? There was nothing he could do. It wasn’t like they had my real name. Once I left the school grounds, how would they find me?
There was a twenty-four-hour café down the street. I just had to get past the guard posted at the entrance; then I could wait in there for the cab. And have some coffee to warm up.
At least one part of my plan made sense. I would be gone before Wade the psychotic stick boy, according to his own drawing, figured it out. He wouldn’t have a chance to kill me. I stopped as another thought surfaced. Would he retaliate? Would he go after Crystal? The headmaster? His parents?
I should have warned her, I thought as I shivered in the cold. It bit into my bones, clamping on, locking its jaws like a pit bull the moment I stepped out into the frigid night air. A thick fog circled around me, the haze creating a halo effect that I could see only in the low light of the lamps that lit the pathways from the academic buildings to the dorms, through the maintenance buildings, and across to the guardhouse.
That would be the real trick, getting past that house.
The aloneness I suddenly felt weighed heavily. I wrapped my fingers tighter around the strap of my bag, and it occurred to me that I’d never lifted a knife from the kitchen. I had nothing with which to defend myself should it come to that. What if Wade was watching? What if he stabbed me before I even saw him coming? Then again, maybe he had other plans. The picture he’d drawn showed a knife, but he could have anything. A gun. An axe. A hammer.