“Sorry,” Eve said. She sniffled uncomfortably. Her eyes were red and puffy, and so was her nose, and in general she looked pretty miserable. Claire bumped shoulders with her gently.
“Hey,” she said. “It’ll be okay. We didn’t do this.”
“Yeah, they never put innocent people on death row in Texas,” Eve said. “Don’t kid yourself. We’re in big trouble. Bigtrouble. Like, not-even-Amelie-can-get-us-out-of-it trouble.”
Her eyes started to tear up again. Claire repeated the shoulder bump. “Don’t. We’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”
Sniffle. “You’re just Little Miss Optimist, aren’t you? Do you come with accessories, like a glass half full and lemons to make into lemonade, too?”
“I’m not an optimist,” Claire said. “I just know us.”
“Damn straight,” Shane said. “Look, they’ll separate us at the station. Don’t say anything about anything. Just watch and listen, okay? No matter what they say, just stay quiet.”
“I’ve seen cop shows,” Eve said, offended. “I’m not stupid, you know.”
Shane leaned forward and looked across her at Claire. “Okay, Eve’s going to spill her guts the first time they look at her harshly. What about you?”
“Quiet as a mouse,” Claire said. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn’t sure she could keep that promise, but then again, she’d kept secrets from Mr. Bishop.
This wasn’t nearly as bad.
Was it?
The sheriff’s station in Durram, Texas, was basically two rooms, if you didn’t count the bathroom; there was a small open area with a couple of desks and computers, some cork boards on the walls full of notices and pictures, and behind that, a door with iron bars. But first, before they got to the iron bar part, Claire and Shane were seated on a wooden bench—it was a lot like a church pew, only with big bolts drilled into it on either side—and cuffed to the bench; too far apart, for Claire’s comfort. She really ached to be held by him right now.
“Hey, sir? Could I use the bathroom?” Shane asked.
“Not until you’re processed.”
“I’m not kidding. I really need to go. Please? Or would you rather clean it up?”
The deputy stared at him, harassed and doubtful, and Shane did a convincing squirm that Claire wasn’t absolutely sure was fake. The deputy finally sighed and unhooked him to escort him to the small bathroom off the main room.
Eve, meanwhile, had been taken straight to the sheriff’s desk, where he offered her a big box of tissues and a glass of water.
Claire was wondering what the heck to do, when she saw a flash of a face in the window of the station, behind the sheriff’s back. A tall, lean figure in a long black coat, hat, and gloves.
Oliver.Dressed for the sun. Out and moving, getting an assessment of where they were and what had happened. He saw her watching him and gave her a quick nod that told her nothing at all, not even, Don’t worry.Then he vanished.
Her phone gave out an ultrasonic ringtone. She blinked and looked around, but neither the sheriff nor the deputy had noticed it at all. Eve had, but after that first involuntary glance, she kept her back turned and stared off into space, Kleenex crumpled in both hands.
Claire squirmed and managed to get her phone out of her pocket without attracting attention.
She had a text message, from Michael. It read, We’ll get you guys out of there soon. Meanwhile, stay quiet.
It was pretty much the same advice Shane had given. She wanted to believe it, but her insides were still shaking. She was definitelynot meant to be a career criminal.
Right. She should just sit here, then, and—think of something else. Like science. Some people recited baseball scores to distract themselves; Claire liked to go through the entire periodic table of elements, and once she’d finished with that, she started on all of the alchemical symbols and properties Myrnin had taught her. That helped. It made her remember that there was something out there beyond this room, this moment, and that there were people out there who might actually care if she didn’t come back.
Shane came back from the toilet and was cuffed in place again. He edged over a little closer to her and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, head hanging down so his hair covered his face.
“There’s a window in the bathroom,” he said. “Not very big, but you could get out of it. Doesn’t open, though. You’d have to break it out, and that would be noisy.”
Claire coughed and covered her mouth. “I’m not breaking out of jail! Are you crazy?”
“Well, it was a thought. I mean, seemed like a good idea at the time.” Shane sat back up and looked at her, forehead crinkling in a frown. “I just don’t want you here. It’s not—” He shook his head. “It’s just not right. Me and Eve, well, yeah, she piled into it head-on, and I’m always in trouble. But you ...”
“I’m okay.” She reached out and put her palm against his cheek, feeling the slightly rough stubble there. It made her steadier. It made her want to be somewhere else, like in the motel room, with the door closed. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“I am sucha bad influence on you.”
“Trying to get me to stage a jailbreak? Yeah. You really are.”
“Well, at least you didn’t do it. There’s that.”
The deputy got up from his desk and came to unlock Shane from the bench. “Let’s have a talk, Mr. Collins,” he said.
“Oh, let’s,” Shane said, with totally fake enthusiasm. He winked at Claire, which made her smile for a second, until she remembered there really was something tragic here—one man dead; two missing. Granted, they hadn’t been the nicest people, but still...
She realized, with a grim, cold, drenched feeling down her spine, that she had no idea what Oliver had been doing when those men were being killed.
No idea at all.
The sheriff kept them talking for hours, then locked them in the cell in the back. Shane went in one cell; Eve and Claire together in the other. All of their stuff was taken away, of course, including cell phones. Claire had erased the text messages, but she figured it was only a matter of time before the sheriff got them, anyway. And then he’d know for sure that Michael was out there, a fugitive from justice.
That sounded romantic, but probably wasn’t, especially since he was a vampire caught without shelter in the daytime.
She hoped he and Oliver had remembered to take the cooler of blood with them. They might really need it, especially if they got burned.
And here I am, worrying about a couple of vampires who can take care of themselves, she thought. I ought to be worrying a lot more about what’s going to happen when they call my parents.They would—and that would make it just about a million times worse.
“Hey,” Shane said from the other side of the bars. “Trade you cigarettes for a chocolate bar.”
“Funny,” Eve said. She was almost back to her old un-Gothed self again, though there were still red splotches on her cheeks and around her eyes. “How come you’re always behind bars, troublemaker?”
“Look who’s talking. I didn’t try to outrun the cops in a hearse.”
“That hearse had horsepower.” Eve got that moony look in her eyes again. “I love that hearse.”
“Yeah, well, I hope it loves you back, because otherwise, that’s just sad. And a little sick.” Shane drummed his fingers on the bars. “This isn’t so bad. At least I’ve got better company this time around.” And he wasn’t scheduled to be turned into a vampire, or burned alive, but that kind of went without saying. “And they even have toilet paper.”
“Oh, I reallydidn’t need to hear that, Collins.” Eve sighed and paced around the cell again, hugging herself tight. “It tells me way too much about your past.”
Claire leaned into the bars. Shane leaned in from the other side, and their fingers brushed, then intertwined. “Hey,” he said. “So, this is familiar.”