Page 19 of Her Magic Light

“Red barn,” I murmured. “Red barn, no harm.” Perhaps if I could create a rhyme or something easy to remember, I could navigate my way back somehow.

The water tower we passed had blue writing. I knew that, even though it looked gray today. I tapped my fingers against the glass. The dark sunglasses had done something to my eyes.

“Red barn, no harm… Blue tower, very quick shower.” I didn’t know what I was saying. The words had no meaning.

But perhaps if the rhyme was silly enough, I’d be able to recall it, and it would get me home. The words alone would conjure up images of the landmarks, anyway.

“Sit properly.” Coop’s voice jarred me, and I flinched, mashing the glasses harder against my face. “What are you even doing?” He placed his hand on my shoulder, exerting light pressure as he tried to turn me from the window.

The heat of his hand permeated my thin T-shirt and warmed my skin. He was gentler than I’d expected, especially after barking about gagging me.

“Move away from the window,” he instructed, tugging on me.

As he pushed me back against the seat, the glasses hung awkwardly on my face, and he sighed before nudging them back into position.

So, I probably hadn’t even made it five miles from Sweetwater, and already my plan to plot my route had failed. I turned my head in Coop’s direction.

“Who are you people?”

He didn’t reply.

“What am I accused of?”

Silence.

“No one has even read me my rights.” I paused but didn’t expect him to say anything. “I have actual rights, you know.”

This time, Coop chuckled, and the sound was dark, lifting the fine hairs at the back of my neck, like it was a physical sensation as it rolled over me. Anger quickly followed my flicker of fear.

“Who are you?” I repeated my first question to be met by silence from the front and silence alongside me. “What are the charges?”

More nothing, even though I’d asked my question in as firm a voice as I had in me. Hopefully, Bess had contacted some legal representation on my behalf, although knowing my luck she’d approached Matt Granger, pretty much the town’s lawyer and as old as God himself.

Still, any help was better than no help at all. May the good Matt Granger find something easy to work with.

“Charges,” I demanded again. “What are they?”

“Classified.”

I froze. Both at the fact he’d answered and at the word he’d used.

Classified. Classified? What the hell did he even mean?Classified.Did they really think I was some kind of rainbow-haired spy? That settled it, though. This legitimately could only be a case of mistaken identity.

“You’ve got the wrong person,” I said.

Again that chuckle. But frustration coiled inside my chest, and I clenched my sweaty hands behind me. If my glasses weren’t so dark, they’d see my glare.

“Coop and Locke, right?” I asked this question in a conversational tone. “I mean, I think I should probably know the names of the two men who’ve bungled their latest operation. For when I report you to the authorities.”

This time, I didn’t need to hear Coop laugh to know I wouldn’t be reporting them to anyone. Whether I knew their names or not, it didn’t matter. Who received reports on men in suits? The FBI? The CIA? The NSA? Hell, thoseweremen in suits. And these guys probably came from one of them. No one would ever take me seriously.

Instead, once they figured out they had the wrong hairdresser, they’d drop me back on the street and get to pretend it never happened while I picked up the pieces. Shit. After all this, would Bess even take me back? She might not. The realization cracked my heart a little.

Looked like all my hopes were pinned on Matt Granger, Esquire, then.

I settled back against the seat and tried to ease the pull of the cuffs on my wrists. Goddamn. I had no hope. None.

Maybe it was time for a different line of questioning. “Am I under arrest?” If I could understand their reasoning, maybe I’d be able to work something out. Cut a deal. Anything to get back to Sweetwater.

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