Page 23 of Their Reluctant Catch

My boots scuff against a loose pebble, sending it tumbling down the slope. The sound disappears into the distance.

I keep going.

Birds call from somewhere above, and I wish I could identify them from their songs.

It’s peaceful.

I climb higher, my breath fogging in the cool air. The moss-covered outcrop is on my left, and through a break in the trees on my right I glimpse the bay below. The sea is windswept and churning beneath the heavy sky. It’s beautiful and wild.

I exhale slowly, the tension in my shoulders starting to ease.

A booming ‘crack’ explodes near me.

I freeze.

The trees dissolve, the cold air thickens, and suddenly I’m back there.

Oil. Metal. Gasoline.

My heart slams against my ribs.

Danny’s voice—muffled under the hood. “Rev it again.”

The smell of rubber and car exhaust. Florida heat curling around my skin. I press thegas pedal.The engine roars, smooth and perfect.

A door slamming open. “Hands up! Nobody fucking move!”

The garage shrinks. The walls close in.

My boss’ calming voice, trying to deescalate. “Take what you want. Just don’t hurt anyone.”

I fumble for my phone. My fingers won’t work. Too slow. Too clumsy. My breath too loud, too sharp. I slip lower, curl into the space beneath the dashboard.

“Two men. Guns. Mitch’s Auto and Rental. Please hurry.”

They can’t see me. If they see me?—

The first gunshot.

My chest locks. My lungs seize.

Danny’s raw and desperate voice. “Dad!” A thud as he jumps to the floor, running feet.

A second shot.

I can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Sirens wailing.

I should help. I should do something.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

My fingers dig into the earth beneath me. My breaths come too fast, too shallow. The trees around me are wrong—tall, thin, covered in frost. A sharp, icy wind cuts through the trees and slaps against my face. I gasp, my eyes flying open.

Not the Miami heat, not the garage—but my body doesn’t believe it.

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