“No way!” I whispered.
No way I was going to stay there and let them catch me. They weren’t wearing uniforms, but I could tell they were police officers. I knew they were after me.
Seeing the two detectives made me forget my fright. A flood of anger rolled over me, sweeping my fear away.
I pushed the curtain back in place and edged away from the window. “No way,” I whispered again.
I’m going to find Lucy, I decided. I’m not going to make this easy for her.
I’m not going to stand here beside the knife and the handwritten confession and say, “Here I am, officers. Take me away.”
I heard the insistent pounding on the front door.
I turned and hurried back along the short hallway, avoiding the clothes hamper this time.
My chest felt fluttery. But my mind was alert, alert to every sound, alert to every sight, every shadow.
I stepped into the kitchen. I had left the light on. I ducked low to keep from being seen through the window. Keeping my head down, I grabbed the back door by the knob and pulled it open.
The screen door rattled as I pushed it.
Had the police officers heard?
Were they coming around the back?
I slid out and carefully, silently closed the screen door behind me.
I glanced to the driveway, but I couldn’t see anything. I listened hard for footsteps or voices.
Silence.
I’m out of here! I told myself. Taking a deep breath, I began jogging across the backyard.
A hazy half moon shimmered above the trees. The air was hot and very still.
My sneakers slipped and squeaked on the dew-wet grass. I was in the middle of the yard, past the small vegetable garden, almost to the rusted old swingset, when I heard a man’s shout behind me.
“Hey—stop!”
I uttered a low cry and glanced back.
Both policemen were at the side of the house. One of them pointed to me. The other waved his hands above his head as if signaling.
“Stop right there!”
They sounded more surprised than angry.
I ignored their cries. Lowering my head, leaning forward, I ran full speed. Past the swingset. Between two tall maple trees that had once held a hammock. Past a low pile of fireplace logs.
“Stop! Hey—stop!”
I turned back to see that they were chasing after me, running fast, their hands swinging at their sides.
“Stop—!”
With a gasp I tried to pick up speed.
But the tall wooden fence rose up in front of me.
The tall wooden fence the Kramers had built at the back of their yard. The fence Lucy and I had helped to paint white. The fence where we had spent hour after hour bouncing a tennis ball and catching it.
The fence rose up in front of me like a prison wall.
And I knew that I was caught.