Page 66 of Protecting You
“Write Charles a note.” Callan indicated the paper and pen. “Apologize for sneaking out. Tell him you’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t try to explain. Just keep it simple.”
“But we aren’t coming back?”
Callan gave her awhat do you think?look. Which she deserved. One didn’t sneak out of places in the middle of the night to pick up donuts.
But then, why bother?
Rather than argue or question him, she wrote the note and left it beside the sink as if she really planned to go through with this.
She wasn’t exactly ajump out the windowkind of girl.
But Callan hadn’t asked her opinion.
Now, he held out a black piece of clothing. “Tie this around your head.”
“What is it?” She took it and shook it out. “A T-shirt? You want me to put a T-shirt over my head?”
“Not over it like you’re a prisoner on camera. Just, you know”—he twirled his finger over the top of his head—“wrap it around there like a kerchief or whatever. To hide your hair.”
“What about your hair?”
He pulled something from his back pocket. A black knit cap.
“Why don’t I wear that, and you wrap the T-shirt around your head?”
“I don’t want to look stupid, and you’ll make it look good.”
“Ha.” She attempted to do what he said. Wasn’t easy, but after a couple of tries, she managed to tie it tight enough to hold for a little while.
“Perfect,” he said. “You first.”
Good idea. If he went before her, she might not have the courage to follow.
The bathroom window was high on the wall and barely wide enough to fit through. How was she going to manage this? How was Callan?
“I’ll give you a boost when it’s time. Go out feet-first, on your belly, then drop and dangle by your fingertips. Don’t wait. You don't want to be seen. Just let go.”
Easy for him to say. He was inches taller than she was and had those long arms.
But wait. What else had he said?“Seen by whom? Who’s out there?”
“One guard.” Callan didn’t seem overly concerned. “One of the guys I ran into earlier. He patrols the perimeter regularly.” Callan nodded through the trees. “See him there against the fence?”
She looked, but all she saw was fence and trees and bushes everywhere.
“In about thirty seconds,” Callan said, “he’s going to move. When he’s out of sight around the edge of the house, that’s your cue. Okay?”
“If I break my ankle?—”
“You’re not going to break anything. You’re going to land with bent knees, then scramble behind those bushes.” He pointed to a hedge that angled between the house and the sunroom, which jutted out from the back of the first floor. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“I need my laptop.”
He indicated his bulging bag at his feet—a backpack, though she’d never seen him carry it that way. “I’ve got both of ours and your purse.”
“But all my stuff?—”
“Isn’t worth the cost of trying to escape with it. Or staying here.”
