“Shut up, shut up, shut up. This is the locker number. Second they release you, walk out to the lobby, go to this locker. This is the combo. Repeat it back.”

She repeated it back as I finally got my fingertips clenched around the barely protruding razor and ripped it out from between the top and the base of my shoe. The razor that had set off the metal detectors earlier, only Officer Maria had assumed the disturbance had been caused by the usual suspect, my medic alert bracelet.

Now I studied Shana’s wrists, which were restrained with thick plastic zip ties. A small box-cutting razor was hardly optimal, but it was the best I could do.

I started sawing, tucked against my sister, her shoulder to my shoulder, her hands on my lap. In all these years, it was the closest we’d ever been to each other. So close I could hear the sound of her shallow breath, smell her sweat-encrusted skin. When we were little, had we ever huddled together like this, maybe keeping each other safe after one of Daddy’s outbursts? Or just two lost little girls, trying to survive.

I detected a new scent. Fresh, coppery. Blood.

I didn’t feel any pain, of course, but I understood the implications of the wet sensation growing between my fingertips, making it harder and harder to grip the razor. I’d cut myself. Maybe even lost a fingertip, removed an entire knuckle. It wasn’t like I would know.

I just had to get the zip ties off. The next act would be Shana’s.

“Stop this!” she commanded now, voice low. “It’s not going to work. I’m never walking out of here. This just puts you behind bars.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I assured her, feeling the ties starting to give. “I’m the victim here.”

“What the fu—”

“Listen! Inside the locker is my purse, which includes the keys to my car. White Acura SUV. Fifth row of the parking lot. Eventually, you’ll want to swap it out for another set of wheels—one the police won’t be on the lookout for—but the Acura will get you started. Inside the car, you’ll find a bag with several changes of clothes, a thousand in cash, the keys to my office and a disposable cell. Don’t call me. First chance I get, I’ll call you.”

More noises in the hallway. Pounding footsteps intermingled with the pulsing siren. I was counting on the outside disturbance slowing mobilization. With so many officers running in one direction, how many would understand there was a second threat that demanded equal attention?

The zip ties gave. I sagged, already feeling wrung out from the exertion.

“Strip,” I ordered. “Quick, quick, quick.”