Identity Crisis (Sam McRae Mystery 1)

I glanced at the door. Any second, they could come in.

“Rest rooms,” I said, pointing the way. We hurried to the ladies’ and ducked inside.

As I took a momentary breather, Melanie said, “I hope you’re not relying on that door to stop them.”

I gave her a look. “I was sort of hoping there might be a window.”

There was a window. It was a small rectangle of window, but big enough for us to wriggle through. It was also several feet out of reach.

Melanie looked exasperated. “We should have gone through the kitchen. It probably has a back door.”

“I didn’t see an easy way back there, did you? Besides, the staff would’ve seen us. I think the boys would’ve figured it out pretty fast.”

“And they’re not going to figure out we’re in here?”

“Too late to worry about it now. Let’s concentrate on getting out that window.”

I looked around. Fortunately, the place still used freestanding trashcans, nice and big. I grabbed one and dragged it toward the window, ignoring the throbbing pain that coursed through my gut. Melanie saw my problem. She helped me get it there and turn it upside down, spilling trash everywhere. This drew a few curious looks from women banging in and out of the stalls, although oddly, no one bothered to ask what we were doing. I guess no one wanted to get involved with a couple of lunatics turning trashcans upside down in a bus stop bathroom. Ima

gine that.

Melanie helped me climb onto the container, which put me just high enough to grab the window frame.

“You’re right,” Melanie said. “This is a much more subtle approach.” Despite her fear, she managed a smile.

I gave her a look, then snickered. “Yeah, well ... I’ll go through first. Can you give me a push?”

In agony, I hauled myself up and through the window as Melanie pushed from below. I was happy to see bare dirt and shrubs on the other side, and the drop wasn’t all that bad. I wriggled through farther and turned myself over, planting my butt on the sill. Reaching back with one hand, I was able to grab a tall shrub. It was awkward and I thought I’d dislocate a shoulder in the process, but I was able to half-shimmy, half-pull myself through until my feet cleared the window and landed on the ground with a jarring thud.

“Jesus,” I said, doubling over from the effort. “OK,” I called to Melanie. After a moment, I saw her face in the window. I helped her through the process as best I could.

Looking out for the Lincoln and the two thugs, we did a fast zigzag through the lot, keeping low.

Melanie tugged my sleeve. “What about my bag?” she whispered.

“Let’s find the car first.”

I saw the Mustang in the distance. We ran to it, glancing around nervously, and got in.

I jammed the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine coughed. Then, nothing.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“Oh, God.” I looked at Melanie. She was staring down the row. Following her gaze, I saw Scarface running toward us.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I turned the key again. The engine groaned and whined. Melanie whimpered. I banged the steering wheel. A stupid waste of time. I turned the key again. The engine started to respond, then died. Scarface was close now. He reached inside his jacket.

“Oh, no,” Melanie said, sounding hysterical.

“C’mon, damn it,” I yelled, stomping on the gas pedal as I tried again. The engine sputtered and roared. I slammed the car into drive forcing Scarface to lunge out of harm’s way as I took off. Weaving slightly, I barreled down the row. It was a miracle I could drive at all. I was so frantic with fear, I could scarcely grip the wheel. Melanie wailed. My entire body shook. I gulped and kept going.

When I checked the rearview mirror, I realized the Lincoln was behind us, gaining speed. I took the next turn. Row upon row of cars. Where the hell was the exit? I looked back again. The Lincoln had just made the turn to follow us. Then, a tan car shot out from a row between us and the Lincoln. For some reason, the car stopped. The Lincoln was blocked.

I hit the gas and emerged into an empty area of the lot. The exit was a few hundred feet away. I headed straight for it, then to the interstate.

Chapter TEN

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