“We just better hope that Derrick doesn’t think to switch the camera over. When I’m supposed to be asleep, he loops the day’s footage so it looks like I’m always writing.” Bob snorted softly. “I guess the joke’s on him, because it’s true.”

Together, they moved to the desk. It was awkward moving in tandem, like the world’s worst sack race. Bob had to roll the paper into the typewriter, because Bridget didn’t know how, but she did the typing with the CAPS LOCK key on. It was weird how far her fingers had to travel and how hard they had to strike, but also oddly thrilling to see the words appear letter by letter.

HELP!!! CALL POLICE. R. M. HALDON, AUTHOR OF SWORDS AND SHADOWS, AND BRIDGET SHEPHERD HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED BY HIS ASSISTANT JOANNE DART. HELD HOSTAGE IN MT HOOD CABIN ON HOOT OWL ROAD.

“Three exclamation points.” He raised one bushy eyebrow as he freed the paper and handed it over. “Don’t you find that a bit excessive?”

“Not when it’s life or death.” She pushed the typewriter aside. “Now you get down, and I’ll get up.

With a muffled groan, Bob lay on his back on the treadmill, curling his knees to his chest. He wiggled until his butt was even with the desk’s front edge, then straightened his legs. She braced her hands on the work surface. Jumping up, she got one knee on and then the other. Moving carefully, she stood up as Bob straightened his legs.

Every move was foreshortened with a bruising yank on both their legs.

Bridget picked up the paper. Holding her arms overhead, she held the sign as close to the camera as she could. She slowly counted to fifteen, then pulled it back a few inches in case it was too close and cutting off a key phrase. Another count of fifteen, and she held it against her chest. Then she repeated the sequence.

She tried to imagine what was happening on the other end of the broadcast. Were viewers googling Joanne Dart? Checking Google Maps for Hoot Owl Road? Or laughing at what was apparently a weird joke? Maybe no one was looking at her note at all. Or maybe the cam wasn’t even working because Derrick had set it to broadcast one of those loops Bob had talked about. She just hoped Derrick was distracted by the argument with his mom, which, judging by the yelling, was still going on.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Bob loudly clearing his throat. She looked down. He was frantically gesturing for her to get off the desk. Someone must be coming.