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BY ORDERING AN EARLY dinner that she did not touch, Laynie paid to keep her table. Her nerves would not allow her to eat anything more, so she sipped cup after cup of strong coffee. The caffeine kept her wits about her, but the acid did nothing for her uneasy stomach.
At half past five, Laynie paid her bill, left a tip on the table, and slipped away from the bowling alley. Dusk in October would fall sometime after seven, but the sky was already gloomy with the possibility of more rain. She walked casually down the streets until she was directly opposite the orchards.
She cut across the street and hopped the chest-height cyclone fence onto campus land, directly into the longest stretch of the UNL orchard. Within moments, she was hidden among the trees.
SØREN, KARI, AND MAX left Mr. Lincoln’s on foot, walking down the streets until they reached the campus. Max led them down winding paths around buildings until they reached the grassy area next to the orchard. In the waning light, they made out the long lines of trees and a row of beehives, their white paint shining out of the shadows.
Max gestured to his parents, and they huddled. “I don’t know where to go from here, Mom and Dad. All those trees over there extend a couple blocks in that direction. That’s a lot of orchard.”
“Why don’t we walk along the edge of the trees? Maybe she’ll see us, Max,” Kari whispered.
LAYNIE CREPT THROUGH the trees, using their even rows to keep her moving into the orchard. When she reached a break in their lines, she turned south until she approached an open, grassy space, and slipped silently along its edge.
Three figures were huddled across from the beehives. She heard their whispers through the lengthening gloom.
“Maybe she’ll see us, Max,” came a soft, feminine voice.
Kari!
Laynie raised her hand to catch their attention—but beyond them on the narrow maintenance road, a lone Suburban appeared, its lights off. The vehicle ground to a halt and two men jumped from it, shouting commands to Max, Kari, and Søren. Laynie ducked into the tree line and watched in dismay as the men commanded Max, Kari, and Søren to get on the ground. One of them patted them down, checking for weapons.
Not Zakhar!
Marstead? It must be!
Laynie covered her mouth with both hands and screamed noiselessly into them, No, no, no! No one was to ever find them! You were going to keep them safe, God!
She kept her eyes on the scene. The men, finding no weapons, holstered theirs, got Max, Kari, and Søren to their feet, and herded them together into one of the Suburban’s rear seats.
Laynie unzipped her coat pocket and reached for her HK.
Only two of them. Weapons holstered. I will creep through the trees and come at them from the driver’s side.
She squeezed the HK P7K3’s cocking mechanism to chamber a round.
Behind her, a man said, “That won’t be necessary, Miss Olander.”
