Part 40 (1/2)
On the side?
Oh.
Awkward.
Scarlett found a flawed seam on her skirt, followed it to where it ended.
Took a breath, then looked up. ”Do you remember anything about what I was wearing?”
Maybe black jeans and T-s.h.i.+rts had been all they had?
Lucas said, ”Scarlett, I don't think he's going-”
”I actually do,” the guard said. ”You had this jacket that was hard to forget. Old-fas.h.i.+oned-looking. Like vintage, you know? Or more like homemade. It was like a quilt, if that makes any sense?”
”Yes,” Scarlett said, her fingers feeling funny, her foot tapping. ”That makes perfect sense.”
”You wore it all the time. Even when it was like a gazillion degrees.”
Why would she do that?
”Were we ever with anyone else?” Lucas asked.
”Not that I can think of,” the man said slowly; then his eyes sparked. ”Hey, wait a second . . . You're those kids.”
Scarlett turned to Lucas.
Shared a look: Concern, yes.
Panic, no.
”Yes,” Lucas admitted. ”Are you sure you didn't just . . . see us on the news? You're sure you saw us here before?”
”I'm sure.” The guard nodded. ”I yelled at you once. For carving your initials into the pier.”
”Where?” Scarlett asked. ”Which one?”
”Middle one. Down the end on the right somewhere.”
She took off . . .
Not quite running . . .
But . . .
Lucas was saying, ”Thanks for your time” and ”Can I get your name and number in case the police want to follow up?”
But she was halfway gone, back down toward the beach.
And when she got to the end of the pier, she felt happy for a moment-even fearless-just standing there, with the air full of seagulls and salty mist.
This was the place they'd found to be together.
This was where they must have plotted their lives together, their escape.
She'd swallowed the penny to bring them back here. It had worked!
They were going to figure it out.
They were going to get it all back.
Then she found their initials, in a heart-but stabbed over and over so that they were almost entirely obscured.
And everything churned.
Guns.
Metal.
Tattoos.
Escape.
Running.
Love.