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Voices and squeaking. And darkness. Eventually, I realized that was because my eyes were closed. Inside my head, a gnome in spike-heeled shoes was rhythmically kicking my skull. I tried to move my arms. They were pinned behind my back. My face was flattened against something. My whole right side, actually. The floor. I was on the floor, and the squeaking came from the floorboards, as people walked about.
“What do we do about her?” A young man’s voice.
“What’s there to do? We leave her.” The girl.
“I don’t know, Kaitlyn. What if she’s with the DEA?”
“Don’t you think she’d have some I.D. on her if she was with the DEA?”
“Not necessarily. Not if she’s working undercover. Maybe she was sitting outside Eddie’s place for a reason.”
“Are you crazy?”
I opened my eyes, just a crack. I’d fallen behind the table and chairs. Through the legs, I had a pretty good view of them both–what I could see in the yellowish light between squinted lids, that is. The boy had a chunky, Junior Varsity build, and buzz cut hair. He walked around the room, making superfluous gestures as he spoke. The girl—Kaitlyn—had one hand on her hip and a look of disbelief on her face.
“You really fucked up, bringing her here,” he said.
“Exactly how long was I supposed to wait for you, Trav?”
“I told you. The jeep’s busted.”
“And I was supposed to—what?—take a bus? If I were you, I’d be more worried about Eddie. By now, I’m sure he’s figured out that I took some of his stuff.”
Travis didn’t seem convinced. “I dunno.”
“Travis,” Kaitlyn said, sounding more than a bit anxious. “Let’s take the car, let’s drive to the airport, and let’s get the hell out of here, before Eddie figures out where we are.”
“Do you know how much hard time you can do these days for drugs? Just for drugs! You can do life. Did you know that? Federal sentencing guidelines, babe. They’re a bitch.”
That seemed to stun her a little. “But they don’t care about people like us. Besides, I don’t think she’s with the feds.”
“So why was she waiting at the motel?”
“I dunno.” She paused. “I never asked. But, for Christ sake, she’s not a cop.”
“So how would you know?”
“Cause she would have arrested me or something by now, stupid.”
“For what, stupid?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who’s so sure she’s a narc.”
While they argued, I was quietly working at the rope around my wrists, using one of my fingernails to loosen the knot. It was a frustrating exercise, trying to work the knot and keep from moving too much. Fortunately, they weren’t paying attention and the furniture blocked their view of me.
Travis bit a thumbnail. “Maybe I should just shut her up for good.”
“Travis! Jesus!” She stared at him, eyes crazy with fear. “This woman saved my life. Besides, they may get me for drugs, but I’m not doing time for murder!”
He snorted. “Hell, Kate, you’d probably do less time.”
He took a gun out of his waistband and turned it over in his hands a few times, as if he were trying to figure out how to use it. My armpits suddenly gushed sweat and my guts turned to liquid. I worked harder at the ropes, but it was going to take time. So many guns and so few brains, I thought. Humphrey Bogart. The Maltese Falcon. Stop thinking about old movies, you moron, and start coming up with ways to beg for your life. Because it looked like that’s what I’d be doing in a few seconds.
But Kaitlyn had other ideas.
“No, Travis,” she said. “No way!”
She grabbed for the gun. As they struggled, I kept working at the knot. The gun dropped to the floor. Suddenly, the door flew in, hitting the wall with a bang. The two of them jumped. A man rushed in—the blond man from the motel—and grabbed Kaitlyn, holding her arm behind her back with one hand and a gun to her head with the other. He kicked the door shut behind him.
