Chapter Two
They both stood frozen for a few seconds, neither one willing to speak first. He noticed, almost offhandedly, that she was wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing when he'd seen her getting arrested on the news. She must have been wearing them ever since. Her hair was loose and soaking wet, strands of it plastered to her face. Above her left temple was a bad gash, but it didn't look as if it was still bleeding.
After a few more seconds of silence, she spoke in a quiet voice.
"Hi."
And then, when he still continued to stare at her in shock, "Your window was unlocked."
That broke the spell. He looked at her like she was crazy.
"Thanks for the heads-up, Freckles. Guess I'll have to keep my eye on that from now on," he said sarcastically. "You mind tellin' me what the hell you're doin' here? Ain't you supposed to be in prison by now?"
She looked a little confused.
"You didn't hear what happened, then?"
"I haven't really been followin' the news lately. Tell you the truth, I'm sick of hearin' about it all."
Realizing he was still gripping the bat tightly, he laid it down on a chest of drawers and turned his attention back to her. His heart was still pounding, but the strangest thing was the overwhelming amount of relief he felt at seeing her. Not only because it lessened his burden of guilt at not giving her the spot on the raft, but because of what it meant for her. If she'd made it all the way here, maybe she really had a chance.
She looked at the floor, obviously not prepared to recite her version of things. She'd counted on him already knowing.
"There was an accident," she began in a low voice.
"An accident," he echoed flatly, watching her.
She looked up.
"The car they were transporting me in. It went off the road, and...I managed to slip away."
He almost smiled.
"Wellll...Wasn't that just convenient, now? Almost as convenient as the plane crash, huh?"
"I didn't have anything to do with the plane crash. You know that." She spoke tightly, on the verge of becoming angry.
"Maybe not...but I'm willin' to bet you can't say the same for the other one, can you?"
A flicker of pain passed over her face, but she held his gaze.
"Nobody died."
She said it almost in justification.
He shook his head slightly and looked away.
"You're somethin' else, you know that?"
He'd meant it as something like an insult, but he couldn't hide a trace of admiration as well. She was good.
When she didn't respond, he moved on to another line of questioning.
"Can I ask what brings you to Tennessee? How the hell'd you even find this place?"
"I'm a good tracker, remember?"
She looked almost wistful, as if the memory of their trek through the jungle was one of the few good ones she had.
"You tellin' me you tracked me to my house? What, by my cologne?"
She rolled her eyes. "I found the name of the town you lived in in a newspaper article about the raft. When I got here, I looked in the phone book and found your address. It wasn't really that hard."
He waited a few seconds.
"Why me?"
"What?"
"Don't give me that 'what'! Why me? Why's it my window you're climbin' through in the middle of the night?"
She looked at him intently, apparently unable to speak what she really wanted to convey. Finally, she said softly, "I didn't have anywhere else to go." It wasn't what she meant, but it was all she could manage.
"Well, I sure as hell hope you know you can't stay here. You and me mighta had some fun times back on the old island, but this here's the real world, girlie. You know what the penalty is for harborin' a fugitive in this state?"
She looked hurt and a little confused. "Do you?"
Annoyed, he didn't know what to respond. He had no idea what the penalty was.
"Well...I'm sure it's...pretty bad!"
He paused, determined for some reason to go on with this.
"Look...I'm sorry to disappoint you, shortcake, I really am. But I got enough to worry about without tryin' to hide an escaped convict in my broom closet."
He could have kicked himself. It was like his mouth wasn't connected to his head. But somehow, the words kept spilling out.
"So I think it's probably best if you just...keep on movin'," he finished bitterly, looking toward the open window.
She looked at him, searching his face, trying to figure out if he really meant it or not. He couldn't handle the penetration of that gaze...it was like she could see right into him. He looked at the floor, waiting, trying to maintain some kind of resolve. They both stood in complete silence for what seemed like forever. Finally, he looked back up at her. She seemed almost amused now, as if she'd figured something out.
"So..." She paused. "You gonna let me stay, or what?"
Watching her, he gave a deep sigh and leaned wearily back against the door frame.
She nodded slightly, the faintest traces of a smile touching her lips.
"Where's the shower?"
