The Leaving Part 40

On the side?

Oh.

Awkward.

Scarlett found a flawed seam on her skirt, followed it to where it ended.

Took a breath, then looked up. "Do you remember anything about what I was wearing?"

Maybe black jeans and T-shirts had been all they had?

Lucas said, "Scarlett, I don't think he's going-"

"I actually do," the guard said. "You had this jacket that was hard to forget. Old-fashioned-looking. Like vintage, you know? Or more like homemade. It was like a quilt, if that makes any sense?"

"Yes," Scarlett said, her fingers feeling funny, her foot tapping. "That makes perfect sense."

"You wore it all the time. Even when it was like a gazillion degrees."

Why would she do that?

"Were we ever with anyone else?" Lucas asked.

"Not that I can think of," the man said slowly; then his eyes sparked. "Hey, wait a second . . . You're those kids."

Scarlett turned to Lucas.

Shared a look: Concern, yes.

Panic, no.

"Yes," Lucas admitted. "Are you sure you didn't just . . . see us on the news? You're sure you saw us here before?"

"I'm sure." The guard nodded. "I yelled at you once. For carving your initials into the pier."

"Where?" Scarlett asked. "Which one?"

"Middle one. Down the end on the right somewhere."

She took off . . .

Not quite running . . .

But . . .

Lucas was saying, "Thanks for your time" and "Can I get your name and number in case the police want to follow up?"

But she was halfway gone, back down toward the beach.

And when she got to the end of the pier, she felt happy for a moment-even fearless-just standing there, with the air full of seagulls and salty mist.

This was the place they'd found to be together.

This was where they must have plotted their lives together, their escape.

She'd swallowed the penny to bring them back here. It had worked!

They were going to figure it out.

They were going to get it all back.

Then she found their initials, in a heart-but stabbed over and over so that they were almost entirely obscured.

And everything churned.

Guns.

Metal.

Tattoos.

Escape.

Running.

Love.

Heartbreak.

Betrayal.

Lucas arrived, breathing hard from walking so fast.

She nodded at the initials, ran her fingers over the splintered wood. "Why do you think they're crossed out?"

"Could have been anybody who did that," he said. "For no reason at all."

"But what if it was one of us?" She half feared this happiness, this moment of rediscovering something real, was going to be lost too soon.

Or was false.

Or was . . .

Was . . . what?

"We have a long drive," she said. "And we have to tell Chambers. Everything, I guess."

"But what if there are other people here"-he turned-"people who saw us?"

"Look around," she said. "There's no one here."

She suddenly didn't want to be there, either.

Didn't want to be there alone.

With him.

Running.

Panting.

Wet.

She said, "We can always come back."

"I want some quick pictures." He took his camera out.

How would they ever figure out what his tattoo meant?

So what if he liked to take pictures?

How could that possibly be a clue?

They decided he would drive this time. So that she could call Chambers, tell him about the penny, the guard, everything.

Just not yet.

Because as soon as they were on a main road again, stopped at a light, Lucas reached out and took her hand again.

And she held on and it felt strange and right.

And he kept looking over at her, and she at him, and after a while it started to feel like he shouldn't be driving, not when they were both so distracted.

And finally she said, "Pull off somewhere."

And at first it seemed like there was no possible good place to stop, but then she saw an old motel with a large parking lot in front and said, "There!" and he pulled into the unpaved lot, kicking up a cloud of dirt.

The GulfSh.o.r.es Motel was abandoned-stickered with orange signs about violations of who even knew what kind. Drapes blew through broken windows. An ice machine sat silently alongside a pillaged snack machine.

It didn't matter.

They weren't going in.

He parked in a far corner of the lot and turned off the engine.

She waited.

But only for a moment. Then leaned toward him and -so fast- he pulled her into his arms and kissed her and she kissed him back and . . .

Attacked.