you wait, just think how nice not being shot is, and the time will fly by.”
I led Sarah to the window I’d come in through.
“It’s maybe twelve feet,” I said, looking out, scanning for any wandering guards. “I’ll let you down, then I’ll climb.”
I took out my rope, looped it under her arms for a sling and took hold of the other end. “Once you’re down, stay quiet and wait for me. If you hear anything bad, Bob is out in the woods, just past that pine with the forked trunk. Get to him and he’ll get you out of here.”
She nodded.
“You’re getting good at this,” I said, flashing a smile.
A faint shadow of a grin flashed over her face and her cheeks colored as she went out the window.
I braced myself against the wall to lower her. She made it down with grace and didn’t make much of a sound. I looked around for something to tie my rope to.
I found a heavy bureau and knotted the end of the rope around one of the legs, then hung it out the window. I climbed down and crouched, listening and scanning the area.
Nothing. My double from upstairs must not have been found yet. I looked at Sarah and raised an eyebrow. She nodded. We got up and made a dash for the woods.
Once we were safe in the treeline, I turned to face her. “I know this sounds crazy, but I need to be sure you’re you. You should probably do the same for me.”
“I agree. So how do we do that?” she asked.
“Ask me something only I’d know. Something obscure. Something nobody would think to research.”
She thought for a moment and then smiled. “Worst band of all time?”
“I know you think it’s Nickleback,” I said, “but that’s only because you don’t grasp just how awful the Beach Boys really are.”
“Ok, if you aren’t Sean that’s so close I’ll never notice the difference,” she said. “Now your turn.”
I thought for a minute. What question would really tell me it was Sarah and not just a very good imposter. What would they have studied or not studied? “Name the two greatest American poets,” I said.
Since they knew she was an English professor, they may have learned the answer to that one, but not the answer I was looking for.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s Frost and Poe. Even though it’s arguably subjective, you don’t get to say Dylan and Springsteen.”
“Even if we include ‘Tangled up in Blue?’”
She shook her head. “You could argue Sandburg, or maybe Dickinson. Even Ginsburg or Kerouac if you were tying to get college girls into bed. You’d be wrong, but you could argue them. But no rock stars.”
“OK,” I said. “You’re you. I’m convinced.”
Bob appeared, ghosting through the woods. “Hi, girl.” He gave Sarah a hug. “The two guards at the front door haven’t moved,” he said to me. “Don’t know what you did, but you did it quiet. Let’s get a move on.”
We made our way through the woods to Bob’s truck, piled in and pulled out onto the logging road.
“Any chance they can track us?” she asked.
“Track me through the woods?” asked Bob. “None at all. Not even with a jarhead slowing me down. And with this truck, that expensive SUV in the driveway can’t get through the roads I’m taking.”
“They probably know my car,” I said to Sarah. “But that’s back at the hotel, and we’re not going there. They might stake it out. I doubt they know Bob’s plate numbers.” I had a bad thought. “Unless they asked you about him?”
“No,” she said. “You– they, I guess— did want to talk about my family a lot on the drive up here. It did seem strange for you to ask those questions. I thought you were thinking about potential in- laws. Jesus.” She shivered in the summer heat and drew her arms tightly around herself. I knew she was thinking of what she had said to a stranger, thinking it was me. I understood the feeling of violation, the obscene advantage taken.
“What are they after?” she asked after a long silence.
“Me,” I
I led Sarah to the window I’d come in through.
“It’s maybe twelve feet,” I said, looking out, scanning for any wandering guards. “I’ll let you down, then I’ll climb.”
I took out my rope, looped it under her arms for a sling and took hold of the other end. “Once you’re down, stay quiet and wait for me. If you hear anything bad, Bob is out in the woods, just past that pine with the forked trunk. Get to him and he’ll get you out of here.”
She nodded.
“You’re getting good at this,” I said, flashing a smile.
A faint shadow of a grin flashed over her face and her cheeks colored as she went out the window.
I braced myself against the wall to lower her. She made it down with grace and didn’t make much of a sound. I looked around for something to tie my rope to.
I found a heavy bureau and knotted the end of the rope around one of the legs, then hung it out the window. I climbed down and crouched, listening and scanning the area.
Nothing. My double from upstairs must not have been found yet. I looked at Sarah and raised an eyebrow. She nodded. We got up and made a dash for the woods.
Once we were safe in the treeline, I turned to face her. “I know this sounds crazy, but I need to be sure you’re you. You should probably do the same for me.”
“I agree. So how do we do that?” she asked.
“Ask me something only I’d know. Something obscure. Something nobody would think to research.”
She thought for a moment and then smiled. “Worst band of all time?”
“I know you think it’s Nickleback,” I said, “but that’s only because you don’t grasp just how awful the Beach Boys really are.”
“Ok, if you aren’t Sean that’s so close I’ll never notice the difference,” she said. “Now your turn.”
I thought for a minute. What question would really tell me it was Sarah and not just a very good imposter. What would they have studied or not studied? “Name the two greatest American poets,” I said.
Since they knew she was an English professor, they may have learned the answer to that one, but not the answer I was looking for.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s Frost and Poe. Even though it’s arguably subjective, you don’t get to say Dylan and Springsteen.”
“Even if we include ‘Tangled up in Blue?’”
She shook her head. “You could argue Sandburg, or maybe Dickinson. Even Ginsburg or Kerouac if you were tying to get college girls into bed. You’d be wrong, but you could argue them. But no rock stars.”
“OK,” I said. “You’re you. I’m convinced.”
Bob appeared, ghosting through the woods. “Hi, girl.” He gave Sarah a hug. “The two guards at the front door haven’t moved,” he said to me. “Don’t know what you did, but you did it quiet. Let’s get a move on.”
We made our way through the woods to Bob’s truck, piled in and pulled out onto the logging road.
“Any chance they can track us?” she asked.
“Track me through the woods?” asked Bob. “None at all. Not even with a jarhead slowing me down. And with this truck, that expensive SUV in the driveway can’t get through the roads I’m taking.”
“They probably know my car,” I said to Sarah. “But that’s back at the hotel, and we’re not going there. They might stake it out. I doubt they know Bob’s plate numbers.” I had a bad thought. “Unless they asked you about him?”
“No,” she said. “You– they, I guess— did want to talk about my family a lot on the drive up here. It did seem strange for you to ask those questions. I thought you were thinking about potential in- laws. Jesus.” She shivered in the summer heat and drew her arms tightly around herself. I knew she was thinking of what she had said to a stranger, thinking it was me. I understood the feeling of violation, the obscene advantage taken.
“What are they after?” she asked after a long silence.
“Me,” I
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