Ty snatched up his phone as two EMTs hurried past the car on the way into the apartment building. Behind them, two patrol cars pulled up.
“She’s down at the Greyhound bus station,” said Lock. “Or she’s already got on the bus for LA. I think Hanger knows about it too.”
“You want me to wait for you?” asked Ty.
“No time,” said Lock. “Call me when you get down there. I’m going to try to slip out of here. I’ll meet you down there.”
Ty had already started the engine, one eye on the cops. Lock might get caught and having to kill valuable time answering questions, but he couldn’t afford to do the same.
“Got it,” said Ty, easing slowly out on to the street.
At the end of the street, he tapped the details of the Greyhound terminal into his phone. He pulled out, picking up speed as two patrol cars raced towards him, heading in the opposite direction.
Glancing down at the phone, he read the expected time of arrival. He would be there in twelve minutes. He figured he could get that number down to nine.
Ty buried the gas pedal to the floor. The car lurched forward.