“Handcuffs, Bob,” she repeated apologetically. She felt bad to freak him out like this, but what choice did she have at this point? “And then turn around and walk out the door. Get back in your car and drive back to the station. Pretend you never saw us.”
She could feel Connor’s hard stare at her back—he obviously disapproved of letting the sheriff just walk away. But for Trin, this was nonnegotiable. She looked at Bob with beseeching eyes. “Please. Just go,” she begged. “Find my grandpa. Make sure he’s okay.”
Please believe me, she begged silently. I don’t want you to get hurt.
For a moment the sheriff didn’t move. Then, with a heaving sigh, he handed over the cuffs and walked out the door. A moment later, she heard the engine roar to life and the car pull away. She knew he could be calling for backup, that they had to act fast. She approached the agents, cuffs in hand.
“You’re going to be in a lot of trouble,” the first agent said.
“Really? And here I thought you were going to give me a medal,” she muttered as she worked to cuff him to a nearby post. Connor followed suit, commandeering some old rope from the back of the barn to secure his buddy to the ladder. Trin had to admit, his knots looked good. Futuristic Boy Scout, perhaps?
Once both men were secure, she turned to her partner-in-crime, drawing in a breath. “Now let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Ten
“Walk slowly,” Connor instructed. “As if nothing’s wrong.”
Trinity forced her steps to slow, trying to still her racing heart as they walked down Old Oak Grove’s Main Street as if on a casual Christmas Eve stroll. She even managed to force out a “Merry Christmas” to Mr. Jenkins as he hurried home to meet his wife and daughter. She imagined her neighbor stepping into his warm, cozy house, probably with a fire in the fireplace and a hot meal on the stove. Baby Ava crying “Dada!” and holding up her little arms for him to scoop her up and give her a welcome home hug. A normal, family Christmas that Trinity had always wanted so badly—and seemed destined never to have.
A lump formed in her throat.
Walk, she scolded herself. As if nothing’s wrong.
But everything was wrong, and the enormity of what she’d just done hit her hard and fast. Had she really just stolen a policeman’s gun, then turned it on two Homeland Security agents before taking off with stolen property? How many laws had she broken in just that five-minute stretch alone? How much jail time would she face for those crimes if caught? She imagined herself on trial, up on the stand, telling the jury a wild story about a boy from the future, trying to stop the dragon apocalypse. At least she’d probably end up in Shady Brook rather than prison given that story, along with her mom’s history. Though the thought didn’t make her feel much better.
“So what now?” she demanded, turning to Connor and allowing the anger to well up inside her, displacing her fear. It was the only thing she could do to force herself to keep moving, to not curl up into a ball and pray the nightmare would just go away.
“We have to find someplace safe,” he told her, shifting the pack he wore to keep the egg from plain view. “So we can regroup and figure out a plan.”
A plan. Right. “You didn’t think to make one of those already?” she replied bitterly. “You know, before you decided to travel two hundred years into the past to save the world?”
He cringed, and she regretted her words immediately. It wasn’t his fault things had gotten so out of control. She had been the one who insisted they go to her house, the one who’d called 911. In fact, the majority of the mess they were in now was directly her fault. Not Connor’s. All he’d done was save her life and protect the egg. She should probably be a little more grateful.
She opened her mouth to apologize, but he cut her off. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “You’re completely right. A true soldier is prepared for all possibilities. I wasn’t and I’ve put you in danger because of it. I’m sorry.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Is it too much to ask for a second chance? I’d like to make things right.”
A chance. In other words, he was asking her to trust him. After all they’d been through, that was a pretty tall order. But what were the alternatives? She could walk away, a fugitive from the law. Turn herself in to the authorities and hope for the best. Or take her chances with this boy from the future—and at the very least have a partner in crime.
“I suppose I can do that,” she said with a sigh. “And I know where we can go too. A safe place where we can regroup.” After all, if she was going to join forces with him, he had to know she was an equal partner, not just along for the ride.
He gave her a grateful look. “Where’s that?”
“My mother’s old house,” she told him. “It was foreclosed on about a year ago, but with all the other bank-owned houses in the neighborhood, they haven’t gotten around to putting it back up for sale. There’s no electricity or running water, but I’m sure we could dig up some candles and flashlights. We’d be safe there—at least for tonight. Until we figured out what to do next.”
Connor seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he pulled out his transcriber, pressing at the screen. “What’s the address?” he asked.
“Twenty-three Elm Street,” she replied automatically, trying to ignore the sudden pang as she recited the address she had once proudly called home. She didn’t want to go back there. In fact, she’d promised herself a thousand times she’d never go back there. But what other choice did they have? As Connor said, they couldn’t trust anyone. And there was nowhere else to go.