19
ANSON
“Are they looking at us?” Paul said in a rushed whisper. “Do they see us?”
“Sit fucking still,” Vincent uttered between clenched teeth. “We’re just eating lunch. Don’t draw attention, you idiot.”
The courtyard entrance was behind me. I waited for Father’s voice to chime in and remind me of how important it was to always face the entrance when seated in a room, but he remained silent.
I glanced at a window in the wall of the building behind Twill, hoping to catch the officers’ reflection, but I couldn’t see them.
“I know them.” Twill kept her head down, partially shielding her face with her hand. “Sort of. They’re assigned to the market district, so I see them most days. Wilder and Hernandez.”
“Could they have recognized you from the news?” Vincent asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Like me, Paul’s back was to them, and it was clear it took every ounce of his being to keep from turning around. His fingers were twitching on the table. “Are they part of them?”
I still couldn’t make out anything worthwhile in the glass. “You ever see them with Van Man?”
“I never saw Van Man with anyone but those two detectives, Welderman and Stocks.” Her eyes grew wider. “Shit. They’re in the courtyard now, walking around the tables. Be ready to move.”
“We should split up,” I said softly. “They’re looking for four.”
Twill gently shook her head. “Too late for that.”
I finally saw them then in the glass. Five rows of tables separated them from us.
The two men moved slowly. Although they were attempting to appear casual, there was a deliberate pattern to the way they moved.
Systematic. While it may look like they were just walking through, they were checking each table.
Twill yawned and leaned over. When she came back up, she was holding a cell phone pilfered from the same purse where she’d gotten the pen.
A gray box not unlike the one Van Man had used back at the hospital.
She quickly keyed in a number, typed a message, and returned the phone to the purse.
All of this happened so quickly that had I not been looking, I surely would have missed it.
A moment later, an alarm went off. The harsh clank of a frantic bell somewhere deep within the main building.
“Jewelry store,” Twill mouthed silently when she caught me looking at her.
In the window’s reflection, one of the officers reached for the radio clipped to his shoulder, said something, then ran off, the other man on his heels.
“Move.” Twill shoved the drawing of Porter in her hoodie pocket. “Now.”
She was up in an instant, the three of us right behind her.
Every ounce of my being wanted to run. Paul and Vincent clearly did too, but we also knew that would draw attention.
Instead, we followed behind Twill, who was moving only slightly faster than we had earlier, her head twisting around with a noncommittal gaze.
To anyone watching, she looked like she was only studying the storefronts and tables lining the walls of the marketplace.
I could tell she was taking in everything—every face, every movement, every exit, every blockade.
To say I was in awe would be an understatement.
She didn’t appear remotely stressed. Unlike Paul, who was sweating.
Unlike Vincent, who appeared as tense as a coiled spring about to burst. Father had taught me to appear casual; I liked to think I did, but I didn’t pull it off as well as she did.
When we reached a table filled with handmade jewelry and various trinkets, she rounded the side and went to the wall behind, which was covered in large tapestries.
An older woman dressed in colorful clothing and large silver hoop earrings manned the table.
She was busy crafting a bracelet from pink and purple string, carefully wrapped around her fingers.
She didn’t so much as look up at the four of us as Twill peeled one of the tapestries aside, revealing an open doorway and narrow stairs. She quickly ushered us in.
We ascended the steps two at a time, and when we reached the top, we were standing in another world.