Chapter 54
RUE
The deadbolt slides into place with a heavy thunk.
That was too easy. The man behind the counter didn’t even freaking ask me a single question, and apparently, cash is a very acceptable payment method.
I lean my forehead against the cheap veneer of the motel door, listening to the silence of the room.
Behind me, the springs of the mattress groan.
By the time I turn around, Noah is already out.
He didn’t even take off his boots. He just collapsed face-down on the faded bedspread, his exhaustion pulling him instantly into a dark, heavy sleep.
The worry creeps into my chest, and I go for one of the paper cups, take it to the sink, and fill it. It’s probably shitty water. But I know he needs it.
I set it down beside him and pull the heavy blackout curtains shut, sealing us inside the stale, cigarette-scented air. My skin is coated in a fine layer of red dust from the mine, my muscles trembling from the adrenaline comedown, but I know I can’t sleep.
There’s no freaking way.
“Noah,” I take a seat beside him, nudging his arm. “You need to drink water.”
He groans in protest, but I keep jabbing him, desperate to wake him up.
“We have to be in our best shape, and I have no idea how fucking close we are to Maricopa.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters, finally rolling over to peer up at me. His pale blue eyes are painfully bloodshot, probably from the dust. “But we’ll figure it out once we rest.”
“We could be swarmed with cops at any moment.”
“We could,” he breathes out. “But how are they going to know we’re here?”
I blink. “The same way they’ve tracked us all this way.”
“True,” he sighs, taking the cup from me.
My lips press together as I watch him down the water. “You’re really dehydrated.”
“I know,” he mumbles, dropping back and covering his eyes. “I just need to drink a ton of water and get some sleep, then I’ll be good to go.”
I refill his water and then bring it back, setting it down on the nightstand beside him. “It feels like it’s all just getting worse.”
“What is?” He takes a sip.
“The chase. We were invisible… Until we weren’t.”
“Yeah, that’s how it works.” He downs that water as well. “They’re always going to be chasing us, as long as we’re running. For a while at least. It eventually will let up, I’d assume.”
“Maybe,” I say, not sure I believe him.
He pulls me into a light kiss and then lies back, falling silent until his deep breaths turn to a light snore.
It must be nice to be so exhausted that you can just crash anywhere, in any situation.
I sigh, stand, and walk over to the small dresser, pick up the sticky plastic TV remote, and walk back. I hit the power button and immediately turn the volume down to a faint whisper, just needing the white noise to drown out the ringing in my ears.
The screen flickers to life, casting a pale blue glow across the dark room. It’s tuned to a national news network.
I freeze.
My mother is on the screen.
She looks older, her face pale and drawn, standing in front of a cluster of microphones, my younger sister, Eliza, standing just off to the side. The chyron beneath her reads, Mother of Suspect Pleads for Safe Return.
“What the fuck…” My voice trails off, and I ease down onto the bed, my eyes wide.
"Ruth is a good girl," my mother’s voice is shaky, thin, and desperate through the TV speakers. "She would never do anything like this. She’s never been in trouble. He... he has to have taken her by force. He has her, and I’m sure she’s terrified.
Please, if anyone sees them, she is not a criminal.
She’s a victim. Just bring my daughter home. We miss her so much."
The camera cuts away to a stern-looking Marshal, echoing her statement. He looks dead into the lens. “Ruth Iverson, if you’re out there, send us some kind of smoke signal, and we’ll get you out of this. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
I smash the mute button and stare at the screen, my chest tight, the blue light washing over the grime on my hands.
A good girl. Taken by force. They are handing me the perfect alibi. My mother is practically building my parachute on national television. All I have to do is put my hands up, cry on cue, and let Noah take the fall.
I could go back to the world of the living. I could be Rue again.
I look over at the bed. Noah hasn’t moved. The rise and fall of his back is the only proof he’s even still breathing.
It’s hard to believe he is the monster on the news. He’s the convict who dragged me into the dirt. But standing here in this suffocating room, listening to the world beg for my safe return, I realize how completely foreign the girl on that television screen feels to me now.
They don’t even know me. None of them do.
I press the power button on the remote. The screen goes black, cutting my mother off mid-sob and plunging the room back into darkness.
I walk over to the duffel bag resting by the door. I drop to my knees, unzip the top, and reach past my clothes until my fingers find the cold, heavy steel of the Colt .45 hidden at the bottom.
We might actually need this.
But I leave the gun where it is, grab fresh clothes, and zip the bag shut. I spend the next fifteen minutes washing as much dust as I can from my body, and then crawl onto the mattress, curling my body around Noah’s back, letting the heavy, steady weight of him anchor me to the bed.
They are all wrong about us.
And sooner or later, I’m going to have to prove it.