"Chloe," he said in a deadly serious voice, "I don't want to boss you around, but if you don't get your ass over that fence right now, I'll have to toss you over. And you could get hurt. I don't want that. So just listen to me, alright?" His eyes were pleading. "Please, baby. Just go. You need to do this, alright?"
"But I want you to come too," I said.
"I'll be there in a few minutes, a half hour tops. You know how to close the gate, right?"
I nodded.
"Good. Get in the house. Lock the doors, and hit the control for the gate. I'll see you in a little bit."
"Wait," I said. "I should call the police, right?"
"No."
"What?"
"Trust me." He flicked his head toward his hands. "Now c'mon. You've gotta go, alright?"
Gingerly, I stepped up into the foothold, and a moment later, I was launched over the fence, landing hard on my ass on the mulchy surface. I glanced back and saw Lawton, watching me, his eyes fierce and his grip tight on the two closest fence spires.
"Go," he said.
And so I did.
When I reached the patch of shrubbery that would hide me from his view, I turned back for one last look. He was still there, watching me in the shadows. Conscious that as long as he was watching me, he wouldn’t be able to watch his own back, I turned and plunged toward the house.
Inside Lawton's house, I watched the minutes tick by – ten, then fifteen, then twenty. With every passing minute, I felt a fresh wave of guilt and uncertainty.
I should have never left him there by himself. What was I thinking?
But he'd been so insistent. And the way he talked, I had the distinct impression I'd be putting him in more danger if I stayed.
But why did anyone have to stay? He should've returned with me. I should've made him, even if I had to drag over the fence myself. And why couldn’t I call the police?
My head swimming, I vowed to give it five more minutes. And then, I was going back there. Or I was calling the police. Or both.
Exactly forty-three minutes after I'd burst into the house, I heard the back door open. I flew toward it and met Lawton just as he entered. I plowed into him and threw my arms around him, hugging him close.
"I was so worried," I said into his chest. "What were you doing?"
"Well that," he said, "is complicated." He stepped back, holding both of my hands in his. "Do you trust me?" he said.
Foolish or not, I did trust him. I hadn't always. But if I wanted us to have any chance at all, those days were over. I felt myself nod.
"Say it," he said.
"I trust you."
"Good," he said, "because in about an hour, you're gonna have to lie like a rug."
He was gripping my hands tighter now. If he squeezed any tighter, I was sure the bones in my fingers would shatter.
"Why?" I said, giving a little tug at my hands. "I didn't do anything wrong."
He looked down, and his fingers loosened, but he didn't let go. "Was I hurting you? Shit, I'm sorry."
"Tell me why I have to lie," I said. "I didn't do anything."
"Baby, I know. But these people, they don't think like you and I do."
