Once again, thanks to Sara Grissom for betaing.
This guy had been following Heather for twenty minutes now, ever since she had left the apartment.
Libby was still sleeping in the backseat, and Heather could hardly keep her eyes off the rearview mirror.
She turned off the road and made her way down the highway. She needed somewhere to go--somewhere crowded, where she could get a new car and continue on to the apartment.
Somewhere that maybe she could grab something for the kid to eat . . .
The mall!
Heather grabbed the radio set in her car. "This is Heather, requesting immediate backup."
"Copy that, what's your position Heather?" Marcy replied, and Heather was relieved to hear a familiar voice.
"I'm en route to the decoy apartment, on Thrates street, going south towards the Westbrook mall. I need a -- " She stopped talking when she realized the battery was dying.
Joe's voice suddenly crackled over the radio. "Heather, you're breaking up. Where're you headed?"
She nearly shouted her reply in a desperate attempt to be heard. "I'm heading to the Westbrook mall."
She paused, waiting for a response before repeating, "The Westbrook mall. I need a new car waiting for me outside."
"I - manage." Heather could only make out those two words before the radio set went dead.
Swearing loudly, she threw down the radio down on the passenger seat, later realizing that that action was probably not the smartest in the situation she was in.
She pulled into the mall parking lot, surrounded by the crowd of cars and shook Libby awake gently. "Come on, kiddo." She said, watching the girl's eyes open slowly. "You like the mall?"
Libby nodded in return and Heather stepped out of the car, quickly helping Libby exit.
They walked quickly into the mall, thankfully not being followed. Surrounded by the masses of people on either side of them, she made a beeline for the exit on the other side of the mall. There had better be a car waiting for them –
Then he was there, the man that had been following him. He was dressed in black from head to toe, his gloved hands resting on his hips.
Heather darted into the nearest store and pulled Libby along with her, waiting until the man disappeared from their sight.
"Is something wrong?" The girl asked inquisitively and innocently.
Heather sighed. "Sort of, honey. We're just . . . " Just what? She asked herself. Just running through a mall from evil drug dealers out to kidnap you. She remained silent, at a loss for anything to say.
They entered the hallway again and made their way to the exit.
Miraculously, there was a car waiting out front--a car with Joe in the driver's seat behind the steering wheel.
Libby and Heather ran to the car and jumped in, slamming the door behind them as Joe peeled out of the parking lot.
"How'd they get your location?" He asked as they wove through the lanes of the highway.
"I don't know." Heather answered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Libby's ear. "There must have been someone who told them about me."
"A mole?" Joe answered, shocked. "There's no one who would do that." He cast aside all thoughts of suspecting his fellow agents, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I don't know." Heather replied. "We just need to get to the apartment."
"Who's that, Amy?" Libby asked as Joe focused on the road again.
"A friend of mine." She replied simply.
* * *
They arrived at the new apartment a few minutes later. "I'll have someone drop by the old one later and pick up your things." Joe told her, his hands rested on the steering wheel of the old red car.
"Thanks." Heather said, pulling Libby along up the stairs of the building. "Come on. You want something to drink?"
"Sure," the girl answered, wide awake after her nap.
They reached the apartment quietly, and Heather was glad to find it already containing some food. It wasn't surprising, actually, since she had used this as a backup a few months ago and Darnell had used it just days ago.
Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out a carton of chocolate milk and poured a glass for the girl.
Heather pulled out a packet of cigarettes from behind the toaster oven, where she had hidden them when she lived here. That was when she had been trying to quit and eventually did, with Joe's moral support and a ridiculous amount of patches.
For some reason this situation unnerved her. She had had to resort to a backup plan, and from here, things could only get worse.
Heather plucked a cigarette from the container and lit it.
The little girl and the FBI agent stood opposite each other in silence, one sipping her chocolate milk, the other smoking her cigarette, deep in thought.
Then the peace was broken by a sudden knock at the door.