It wasn’t all that late: lights shone from most of the windows—I thought there was one on even in Mary Ann’s—maybe she was reading in bed. I sat in the car, harvesting the remnants of my energy, before moving on stiff legs up the walk into her entryway. In case she was asleep, I didn’t ring her bell but let myself into the building. I moved almost stealthily up the stairs, trying to disguise my tread so that Scurry wouldn’t recognize it and start barking. With the same stealth, I undid the locks to her door and slipped inside.

The dog came skittering down the hall to meet me, but I put the groceries down and picked him up before he could make a noise. He licked my face with delight but wriggled free and ran back toward the kitchen. I picked up the bag and followed him. Mary Ann’s bedroom door was shut, but a light was on in the back. I slipped past her room to the kitchen.

Fumbling with the locks to the back door, their faces tight with terror, were Josie Dorrado and Billy the Kid.

43

The Fugitives

I was so stunned that I stood for a moment, unable to speak or even think. Mary Ann’s strange manner—her reluctance to see me, her insistence I be very precise in letting her know when I’d be coming—and the person who’d answered her phone without speaking—I’d never imagined she’d be harboring the fugitives.

Billy was shielding Josie from me as if I were going to wreak retribution on them. He swallowed nervously. “What are you going to do now?”

“Now? I’m going to unpack Mary Ann’s groceries, make myself some coffee, and get you guys to tell me just what you’re up to.”

“You know what I mean,” Billy said. “What are you going to do about—well, seeing us here?”

“That depends on what you tell me about why you’re hiding out.”

When I put the perishables into the refrigerator, I saw the kids had bought themselves Cokes and pizzas. I thought longingly of the bottle of Armagnac in my liquor closet, but I put on water for coffee and made myself toast.

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” In his truculence, Billy sounded much younger than his nineteen years.

“You don’t have to,” I agreed, “but you can’t stay at Coach McFarlane’s forever. If you tell me what you know, and who you’re hiding from, I might be able to sort it out for you, or run interference, or, if you’re in serious danger of your life, get you to a safe place.”

“We’re safe here,” Josie said. “Coach doesn’t let anyone see us.”