“We have to move now.” He glanced at his watch. “We have twenty minutes max to get into the police station and look around.”
A pent-up sigh slid between her lips as she turned into a church driveway, then pulled back onto the highway.
“And the cops at the station?” she asked.
“That’s where our nonlethal weapons come into play.”
“I hate to remind you of this unpleasant little detail, but while we might be using nonlethal weapons, the cops aren’t.”
“We have the element of surprise on our side. I’m a professional.”
“I’m a waitress,” she blurted out. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“You’ll do fine, Jess.” He looked over his shoulder, made sure there was no one following. “Look at you. You’re driving like a pro.”
She shook her head. “I don’t do anything like a pro. The only thing I do well is screw things up.”
He risked a look at her, curiosity nipping at him, and he made a mental note to get to the bottom of that statement later. “Maybe you ought to give yourself a little more credit.” He motioned left. “Turn here.”
They were on a side street that ran parallel to the main drag. The police station was a block ahead. “Park in that lot over there, beneath the tree.”
Jess pulled into the lot and cut the engine and lights. She knew if she took her hands off the steering wheel they would shake uncontrollably, so she didn’t. Madrid’s window was down a few inches and the chorus of crickets and frogs was in full swing. In the near distance she could hear sirens. Dead ahead, the police station was lit up like a football stadium.
“I count four cars.”
She jolted at the sound of Madrid’s voice and jerked her gaze to the parking lot beside the police station. Sure enough, four cars sat beneath the glow of the streetlight.
“I’m hoping that doesn’t mean there are four cops inside,” she said.
“Most cops drive their own car to work, then switch to their city car. More cars than people here, I’d say.”
Jess wished her heart would slow down. She felt shaky and scared and she hated it. “How many inside?”
“At this hour and for a town this size, I’d say there’s a dispatcher and maybe two officers.”
Sick with nerves, she pressed her hand to her stomach. “How are we going to handle that many people?”
“I have a plan.”
“Of course you do.”
He grinned, but for the first time Jess thought she saw the sharp edge of nerves beneath the reckless facade. She watched as he dug into the satchel and pulled out a small packet of what looked like ketchup. “Don’t tell me you have fries to go with that.”
“Just a tall tale.” He tore open the packet with his teeth, then proceeded to smear what looked like blood on his temple.
Understanding dawned in an unpleasant rush. When he made eye contact, Jess could have sworn the blood was real. “Not bad.”
Madrid said, “I’m going to walk in and tell them I was driving on the coastal highway and someone took a shot at my car. I was nicked in the temple. That ought to distract them long enough for me to get the upper hand.”
It was good as far as stories went. A situation the police would surely need to investigate. But there were so many things that could go wrong.
She realized then he hadn’t included her in the story. One look at his face and she knew why. He was concerned for her safety. She knew it was silly, but his concern warmed her in a place that hadn’t been warmed for a very long time.
“Madrid, you can’t do this alone.”
“I don’t think you’re in any shape to—”
“I can do it,” she cut in.
“Jess…” He scraped a hand over his face. “You can’t. They’ll recognize you—they’re looking for you.”
She shook her head. “They’re looking for a woman with a little boy. I have to take the chance, Madrid. For Angela and Nicolas. For me.”
He stared at her with such intensity that it was difficult to hold his gaze. Then he nodded and his eyes went back to the police station. “Okay. Same story. You’re my wife. All you have to do is help me in. I was driving when some unknown gunman took a potshot at us. Okay?”
There was nothing okay about any of this, but Jess nodded. She wondered if he could see the fear that was surely written all over her face.
When Madrid got out of the car, Jess followed, hating that her legs were weak and shaking. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him smear more of the fake blood on his shirt. She crossed around the front of the car and jolted when he reached for her and applied some of the blood to her hands.
“You sure you can handle this?” he asked.
His hands were warm and strong and incredibly reassuring as they covered hers. “I’m sure.”
“Let’s go.” He looked both ways, then put his arm around her shoulder. “Put your arm around me,” he said. “As if you’re helping me.”