The man with the bag over his head is sobbing, saying something, but I can’t make out the words. Hank smoothes his slicked hair and gives a muffled order to the two bigger men.
One of them pulls something from his coat. Before I can even
see for certain what it is, there’s a fierce bang, and the man on
the ground goes limp.
“Holy Toledo,” Charles whispers.
I can’t take my eyes off the man on the ground. A circle of
red expands from the bag over his head. So is this what Hank
meant by “under-the-table stuff.” Cassandra was right. Cooper
Enterprises is dangerous. More so than I ever imagined.
“Holy Toledo,” Charles repeats, his eyes the size of saucers.
My whole body feels like lead, but I know we need to get out
of here, and we need to go fast.
“Holy—”
I grab Charles by the arm. “Run,” I say.
We dash back to the car. But what if those thugs saw my car?
Other men could be waiting for us. Waiting to see who’s spying
on them. Or someone could be watching from inside the warehouse. The foreman with the cigar.
I grab for Charles again. “Wait!”
He’s panting. “We gotta get out of here, Lon!”
“We have to make sure it’s safe first.”
We creep to a pile of crates near the edge of the building.
Trembling, I lift my face just over the top of the stack.
The car sits where I parked it. Movement in the corner of my
eye catches my attention. Hank strolls out of the warehouse,
wiping his hands with a handkerchief. The two thugs follow
close behind. If they walk another twenty feet, my car will be
in their line of sight.
We have a minute. Maybe less.
“Now, Charles!” I say. “Run!”
I leap out from behind the pile of crates with such force that I
nearly tumble headfirst into the asphalt. But then my feet hit the
ground and I lurch ahead. Just behind me Charles is panting.
Shouts fly like bullets through the air. The men have spotted
us. And if Hank has his wits about him, he’ll know exactly who
I am.
Chapter 21
Cassandra
thought the first day at the library was bad. Today is
I
torture. Maybe it’s because I know what Lawrence is up to today. He wouldn’t tell me any specifics, but I can guess. It
has something to do with Cooper Enterprises, and right now,
he should be staying as far away from them as humanly possible.
He promised me he’d be careful. And I promised him
I wouldn’t worry. I’m trying with every fiber of my frayed,
somewhat damaged sanity to do so, but this is a difficult oath
to keep.
Maybe impossible.
I just need to see him. I want to feel his warm pulse. I want to
lie against his chest as it expands and contracts with air. I need
to keep him alive. A prickly, chilling thought pushes into the
back of my mind. What if we’ve already messed with the timespace continuum? Has Lawrence being aware of me and of his own potential death changed his actions, which have, in turn,
changed the course of the future?
I waited for him for a solid hour at the beach this morning. Only the gulls and the gray waves broke the cloudy stillness. And I know, I know, he has to do what he has to do. But wouldn’t he at least come say a quick hello?
The ever-present knot in my stomach tightens. I’m not sure
how much more anxiety I can take. All I can do is dive deeper
into my research and pray for another breakthrough.
I’m lost in the glowing projection of microfilm when the
scrape of a chair pulling out startles me to attention. Mom sits
down at the desk next to mine.
“Well, well,” she says. “You really are at the library.”
I stare at her, incredulous. “Did you seriously come all the
way down here to see if I was lying?”
“Oh, come on, Cass. You didn’t expect me to buy your story
wholesale. It seems a little hard to believe that you’re spending
your gorgeous summer days in the library.”
“Well, I am. As you can clearly see. I suppose you can give me
a little credit now.”
She shrugs. “I guess I have to. What are you doing here