LUCY PLOPPED DOWN on the end of Zoe’s double bed, her hair wrapped in a white towel. Zoe had given her a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt to wear while she dried her damp clothes. After a quick tour of her single-room home—consisting of a bed, two nightstands, a dresser with TV atop, a mini stackable washer/dryer set, a small kitchenette, and a writing desk with matching chair—Zoe pointed Lucy in the direction of a hot shower.
Lucy was in the shower for twenty minutes, an eternity. Zoe tried to busy herself with things around her place. Her mind ran in circles from one troubling thought to the next. Had she really brought a stray home? Armed with very little information about her and hoping for the best? She must have lost her mind.
Zoe had simple but inviolable life rules. Number one: Keep your head down, stay out of trouble, trust no one. Number two: Always refer back to rule number one. With a pair of baby-blue eyes and a dopey smile, somehow Lucy had convinced Zoe to break her life rules. She wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or terrified.
Lucy sat cross-legged on the bed and looked at Zoe, who was rinsing a coffee mug and placing it on the small shelf that contained the few dishes she owned.
“You enjoy your shower?” Zoe asked.
Lucy nodded. “It was very warm.”
“Say what you want about this place, but the hot water never seems to run out.”
“I like this place.”
Zoe turned and leaned back against the sink, crossing her arms. “It suits me fine.”
“It’s nice.”
Zoe raised her eyebrows and huffed. “You clearly haven’t been very many places.”
A confused, pondering look washed over Lucy’s face. The girl seemed to get lost inside herself, as if searching for answers in her own mind. The expression was haunting and sad. Zoe wished she had said something else.
She pushed off the sink and headed for the remote that sat on the nightstand. “You wanna watch some TV?” She grabbed the control and flicked the black screen to life. Reruns of Deal or No Deal filled the frame. The playfully charming Howie Mandel interacted with a young girl who was just getting an offer from the bank, as perfect girls in little black dresses stood in rows holding numbered silver briefcases.
“This okay?” Zoe asked. She looked to Lucy, whose eyes had gone wide with wonder.
Lucy adjusted her small frame to get a better view of the screen and became engrossed with the images as they played across the monitor as if she’d never seen a TV before. But then maybe she hadn’t? Or couldn’t remember. Another unbelievable fact to add to the list of puzzling truths about this strange girl.
Zoe’s cell phone buzzed against the small wooden desk across the room, and the screen lit up. She dropped the remote onto the bed and stepped toward the vibrating phone. She reached for it, saw it was the diner, hit ignore. She’d worked a ten-hour shift; she was not going back in.
Lucy had pulled the wrapped towel from her head, and her long hair lay in wet chunks around her shoulders. Zoe stepped into the bathroom to grab her hairbrush. The mirror was still cloudy from the steam of Lucy’s shower, and Zoe wiped it clean. Her tired reflection stared back at her. Fair skin, brown eyes, short black hair that she dyed herself. She noticed her light roots poking through. Time for a touch-up.
She left the bathroom, flicking the light off on her way out. Her phone was buzzing again. She glanced at it. The diner. Strange they’d keep calling. She tossed the brush onto the bed beside Lucy and reached for her phone. Lucy looked at the object as it landed beside her and then back up at Zoe.
Zoe pointed to her own head to indicate what the item was for and watched as Lucy carefully reached for the brush and began to run it through her hair. Zoe’s phone stopped vibrating in her hand, and she unlocked it to dial the diner back.
Jessie answered before the first ring finished. “Why aren’t you answering your phone? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but I’m not coming back in to cover for you,” Zoe started. “I don’t care who died—”
“I didn’t call about that,” Jessie snapped, then dropped her voice. “Is that girl still with you?”
“Why?”
“Look, I don’t know what kind of trouble she’s in, but two government men just showed up here lookin’ for her.”
“What?” Zoe stepped back into the bathroom and out of Lucy’s earshot. “What do you mean, government men? Like, agents?”
“Yeah. They were showin’ us pictures of her and asking if we’d seen her. They said she’s dangerous, Zoe.”
“How do you know they were really with the government?”
“They had badges, FBI.”
“And they were real?”
“Real? What kind of person asks that question after what I just told you!”
“You know you can buy ones on Amazon that look like the real thing, Jessie. How do you know they were real?”
“I know an FBI badge when I see one. Are you even listening to what I said? She’s dangerous! Are you home? Did you take her home with you?”
Zoe’s mind was spinning again. Government agents looking for Lucy, claiming she was dangerous. What if she was? Zoe glanced back out and saw the girl curled up watching the game show like a child. She looked like she couldn’t hurt a fly. And authorities claiming to have anyone’s best interests in mind couldn’t be trusted. Her past had taught her that. So what did they want with Lucy?
“What did they say exactly?” Zoe asked.
“They showed us her picture, asked us if we’d seen her and when she left,” Jessie answered.
“And what did you tell them?”
“The truth! I’m not trying to get myself in trouble with the government. I’m too weak for jail.”
“You told them about me?” Zoe could feel her panic start to boil.
“I told them you took the girl with you. What was I supposed to say?”
Zoe swore under her breath. If they knew Lucy had left with her, it wouldn’t take them long to track her back here. She stepped out of the bathroom and nearly stumbled into Lucy, who was standing right outside the door.
Lucy’s eyes were wide and focused. “They’re here.”
Zoe wasn’t sure what to say with the phone up to her ear, Jessie rambling about prison time. She swallowed and cut the woman off midsentence. “I have to go, Jessie.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Jessie warned.
“I’ll call you later,” Zoe said and clicked the phone off.
“They can’t find me,” Lucy said. “They can’t be trusted.”
“Who are they?”
“The bad guys,” she whispered. Then her attention snapped to the door, a different level of focus filling her expression. A moment of eerie silence encased the room. Only long enough for Zoe to exhale, then Lucy’s eyes were back on her.
“They’re close,” she said.
Jessie must have told them where Zoe lived. How could Lucy know—
Zoe’s thought was interrupted by a hard rap at her apartment door. She looked at the door, then back at Lucy, whose face was now covered in panic, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
“Please help me,” Lucy whimpered.
An image of a small boy Zoe loved with all her heart and two large uniformed men dragging him off flashed across her memory. His tiny words filled her mind. Help me. The wound she’d stitched up time after time opened, and agony dripped out like blood. Zoe hadn’t helped him; she’d let someone else influence him to do things that had ultimately separated them. She should have saved him, protected him, but she’d been too afraid. She couldn’t be afraid now. She could help Lucy.
Again a knock bounced off the door, followed by a deep male voice. “FBI. Please open the door.”
“Liar,” Lucy whispered, anger washing over her eyes.
Zoe was trying to piece it all together, but there wasn’t time now. The only thing she could trust was her gut, and right now it was screaming at her to get this girl far away from whoever was on the other side of the door.
Zoe flipped a mental switch and moved with precise determination. She grabbed a backpack and stuffed it with all her cash. She opened a desk drawer, retrieved a flip phone that couldn’t be traced, and tossed it in with the money. She left all the rest of her things.
Then she was motioning for Lucy to follow her into the bathroom, where a single small window was perched above the shower. Barely big enough for them to squeeze through, it was their only exit. Zoe had never opened it; she wasn’t even sure it would open. She carefully balanced on the ceramic tub and yanked at the rusted latch. Nothing. Twice more with all her might, but to no avail. She stepped off, pushed past Lucy, and rummaged in the desk drawer for a screwdriver.
When she stepped back into the bathroom, Lucy was up on the ledge yanking the lever. Zoe opened her mouth to tell her it wouldn’t budge when it squeaked open, and Lucy pushed the window wide. She looked back for direction, and Zoe mouthed, You first.
The girl pulled herself through the window, and Zoe stepped up to follow. Hands on the window’s edge, she caught sight of the latch. It was broken off. She paused and eyed it curiously. Lucy had broken the latch completely. That didn’t seem possible. For a half second Zoe questioned what she was doing, risking so much with so little knowledge. Was this a mistake?
She saw Lucy looking up at her from the outside, her eyes pleading. There was no turning back now. Ignoring the familiar rage of fear, Zoe let the unknown go and pulled herself through the window.