Page 38 of The Stranger
He runs a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at me. “With the storm, I think they’re trying to limit travel even for the officers. She just said they’ll want us on scene for questioning. She didn’t give me an option for them to meet us here. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Okay, but who knows if they’ll even take us back.” I gesture toward the car waiting near the entrance to the parking lot. “They were nice enough to bring us here. We can’t ask them to go back and miss their honeymoon.”
He nods. “Yes, we can. We don’t have a choice, and neither do they. They have to go back, too. They’re suspects as much as we are.”
“Suspects?” I repeat the word, my stomach feeling hollow.
In the car, the woman and Tony are staring at us. The overhead light illuminates their faces as they watch us with strange expressions. Waiting to see what will happen. What we’re doing. Why it’s taking so long.
They still have no idea what happened at the motel other than the tires being slashed. To tell them the truth, admit that we lied to them, feels impossible. Nausea washes over me.
“Come on.” Walker holds out his hand, and I slip mine into it, letting him lead us back to the car slowly, gripping on to my arm too tightly to keep me from falling.
Back at the car, we slide inside, and Walker tells them what the dispatcher said.
“No. We ain’t going back,” Tony argues with a thick southern accent. “We barely made it here. No way in hell are we going back.”
“We have a flight to catch.” The woman winces, cocking her head to the side. “I’m sorry, kids, but he’s right.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “I get it, I really do, but I just don’t see what your slashed tires have to do with us. We’ll give you our information for the police if they want to call us, but we didn’t see anything. We have a flight to catch, and I’ll just be sick if we miss it. We’ve been saving for months.”
Walker and I exchange a glance. They still think this is all about the tires. We have to tell them the truth about Ernest.
I open my mouth to do just that when Walker says, “You know what? I agree. We shouldn’t wait. Whoever did this”—his eyes meet mine with extra meaning in the words, the killer, not the tire slasher, though they’re likely one and the same—“is still out there. If we go back, we could be in danger. They can’t blame us for not being able to make it back to the motel with roads the way they are. We barely made it here. We did what we needed to by calling and reporting it. The rest is up to them.”
“But you gave them your name. They’ll find your car. What if you get in trouble for fleeing a crime scene?” I ask.
His brows draw down. “I doubt it’s considered fleeing if I’m the one who reported it,” he says, though he doesn’t look sure. “If our ride won’t take us back, how are we supposed to get there?”
“We should go call the police again, then.” I chew the inside of my cheek. Force of nervous habit. “At least we need to tell them that we aren’t coming back and why. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
Our eyes lock, darting back and forth between each others’, carrying on a silent conversation in the back seat. I don’t like the idea of not going back, but it suddenly feels like it’s three against one. I’m only looking out for Walker, really, though I have no idea why. There’s nothing at all that will connect me to the motel or the crime scene. I should just leave and never look back. Whatever happens is on him, not me.
“Look, kids, we really need to get going.” The woman interrupts my racing thoughts, turning in her seat to look at me. “We need you to let us know whether we’re leaving you or you’re coming with us. I’m sorry, but we can’t keep waiting. We’ve already been slowed down quite a bit, and we’ll be pushing it to make it to Chicago in time to catch our flight.”
“Give us just a second, please,” Walker says, nudging me back out of the car. We shut the door, and he looks down at me. “Look, I need you to be honest with me. Are you running from something? Or from someone?”
“What?” I furrow my brows, staring at him with confusion swimming in my head.
He presses his lips together and stares over my head. “Earlier, when we talked about the police, you were clearly freaked out and didn’t want to call them. Now you’re all about it. What changed? Why didn’t you want to call them before? Why were you in such a hurry?”
A brick settles in my stomach. I hesitate.
He lowers his head slightly, his eyes drilling into mine. “No lies, remember? We had a deal.”
I pinch the skin on the bridge of my nose. “It’s stupid. I was… It doesn’t really matter anymore. Not after all of this. It’s just that, well, I didn’t tell you, but my, um, my ex is a cop. I didn’t, um… I didn’t want it to get back to him somehow. I don’t know how it all works or what he’d find out, if he’d find anything out, but I was so angry with him, I am so angry with him, I didn’t want him to know where I was or that I’d needed help. I wanted to have made it on my own. And I wanted to keep moving until I was somewhere safe with my friends, somewhere with enough service to contact my family and tell them the truth before he could put his own spin on what happened. Before he could make it look like I was crazy or irrational or that this was somehow all my fault. Before he could turn everyone against me. He’s… He’s charming like that.” Thinking of him, I zone out, then snap back to the present. “But none of that matters now. Someone killed”—I whisper the word—“Ernest. We have to tell the police what we know. If we don’t, you could get in big trouble, and that’s the last thing I want after you are only in this mess because you tried to help me.”
“That’s not true.”
“We both know you’d be a lot farther along if you hadn’t had to stop for me. You said it yourself earlier.”
He scowls. “Forget what I said earlier. I want you somewhere safe.” His hand comes to rest on my arm. “Nothing else matters right now. Leaving with them, heading to Chicago or St. Louis or wherever, as long as it’s far away from here, feels like the safest bet.”
“But what about the police?”
“They told us to come back, but if we don’t have a way, what are we supposed to do? We’ll call them once we’re somewhere safe and explain everything. I’ll handle it, don’t worry. Right now, our safety is a priority, and I think they’ll understand that.”
The window rolls down, and Tony sticks his head out. “What’s the verdict? You comin’, or what?”
“We’re coming,” Walker says, and I don’t argue. In truth, I’m not sure why I don’t, except that maybe I want to trust him.