And what was their secret side venture, anyway? Knowing Lawton, I wanted to believe it wasn't anything illegal, but it sure didn't sound good. Without specifics, what did I really know?
At the mental image of what his friend – no, his brother – had done, I felt like screaming. And then – oh my God. Chucky. How had I forgotten about him? Was he okay? Had he gotten out?
I should've thought of him first. Here, I'd been so caught up in the drama below that I'd almost forgotten my real responsibilities. I should be ashamed of myself. Iwasashamed of myself.
Dropping the towel, I hustled to the bathroom and grabbed for the clothes that Lawton had loaned me.
It was definitely time for me to leave.
Chapter 28
With quick, jerky movements I pulled on the T-shirt and then the silky sweatpants. The clothes, far too big, swam around me as I ran a quick brush through my wet hair and plunged out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
I practically flew down the stairs. Bare feet, wet hair, no makeup – I didn't care.
On the main level, I looked around. I needed shoes. Or socks. Or something. I couldn’t stay here. Not anymore. If I had to walk back to the Parkers', that's exactly what I'd do. At least I was dressed in a lot more clothing than when I'd arrived.
But I was still locked out.
Or maybe not.
Bishop had been in the house. How had he gotten in? Had he broken a window? A door? However he'd gotten in, I'd get in too. And then, later, when the repairs came due, I knew exactly who'd be paying for them, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be me.
Maybe the whole thing wasn't Lawton's fault. But I couldn't help it. I blamed him. It was his guest, his house, his decision to let the whole thing go. He should've known better.
I scanned my surroundings. Near Lawton's front door was a much smaller door. A closet? Silently, I crept toward it, listening intently for footsteps or voices. I heard none.
When I cracked open the mystery door, I breathed a sigh of relief. On a row of hangers, I saw at least a dozen coats, some lightweight, some obviously meant for winter. I reached for a dark hoodie and shrugged into it, not caring that it fell nearly to my knees.
On the closet's floor, I spotted a jumbled pile of casual shoes, including the red pair of old-fashioned sneakers that I'd seen on Lawton's feet, at least once, maybe more. I dug them out and slipped them on. Like the hoodie, they were way too big for someone my size, but they were still better than nothing.
I'd already done the whole run-around-the-neighborhood barefoot and half-dressed thing, and I wasn't about to repeat it.
I took a deep breath and slowly pulled open the massive front door. It made no sound as I cracked it open barely enough to slip outside and shut it softly behind me.
The air was frigid, and my heart was racing. Still, I forced myself to move slowly, not only to keep from attracting attention, but also because Lawton's shoes felt a dozen sizes too big. The last thing I needed now was to end up face-down on his brick walkway.
Ahead of me, I saw the front gate. Shut. Of course. But there must be an easy way to open it. A keypad? Or maybe a motion detector? After all, the gate was meant to keep people out, not trap them in. Right?
But when I approached the gate, nothing happened. My heart, already racing, hammered that much harder as I rushed toward it, forgetting the shoes, forgetting to be subtle. When I was close enough to touch it, I scanned along either side, looking for whatever might control the thing.
"Looking for something?" a male voice said.
I whirled around and came face-to-face with Lawton, his face devoid of expression as he stood watching me.
"I'm leaving," I blurted out.
He crossed his arms. "Obviously."
I glared at him. "You can't keep me here."
His mouth fell open, and I saw the hurt in his eyes. "Is that what you think?" he said. "That I want to force you to stay?"
I pushed aside a rush of guilt. If anyone should feel guilty, it was him. "I don't want to fight about it," I said. "I just need to go, that's all."
"That's all," he repeated, his voice flat.
"It's just that –" I struggled to find some excuse to avoid a confrontation. "I don't want to leave Chucky alone."
