Page 56 of A Malicious Menagerie
I wince. It’s never good when she pulls out the middle name. “I’ll tell you everything, I will. Just not yet. Not here. But I’m going to ask you to trust me anyway.”
Nan shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”
“You will. Just trust me. Please?”
After deliberating a moment, Nan exhales a shaky sigh. “Of course I trust you, Anna.”
The words are a balm to my soul, but I haven’t revealed everything yet. “Do you trust me enough to pretend to have a heart attack?”
Her jaw drops. “What?!”
“When you fake a heart attack, an ambulance will show up. But instead of paramedics, a… friend will come to help you escape.”
“This is…” Nan pauses, looking worried and lost, and my heart squeezes with guilt. If I could spare her from any of this, I would. But I’m trying to spare her from something much worse. “Why don’t we just go? Now? Today? We’ll pack my things and—”
I’m already shaking my head. “They won’t let me take you out of here.”
“Who’s ‘they?’”
“My boss’s men.”
Nan casts a worried glance around at the well-groomed flower beds and neat hedgerows. “This sounds like something out of a thriller. Are you pulling my leg?”
I bark out a humorless laugh. “If only.”
Nan scrutinizes me for a moment, her pale eyes flickering across my face. “Have you thought this through?Reallythought this through?”
This, at least, is an easy answer. “It’s all I’ve thought about. Over and over.”
“And it’s the right thing to do?”
I reach over to take Nan’s hands in mine and give them a gentle squeeze. “Yes. It’s the right thing to do.”
“But if we need to leave, where would we go?”
“I was thinking Alaska.”
“Alaska!” Nan exclaims.
“Shh!” I hush her quickly before peering around. “What’s wrong with Alaska?”
“It just sounds so… remote. And wild.”
“They have cities, too, you know.”
“And will we be living in one?”
“Well…”
“Why Alaska?”
I blush. “It’s where Chase is from.”
“Anna, I don’t know about this…”
Her skepticism is the final straw, and I’m the camel breaking under the weight ofeverything. Of my fear, of trying to do the right thing and feeling like I keep failing again and again, of needing to be the key to so many prison cells. Tears flood my eyes, the current too great for the dam I’ve erected in my mind. “Please, Nan.” My voice is small and plaintive, my shoulders hunched. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Nan’s expression softens, and she reaches up with one trembling hand to pet my hair. “I’m sorry, darling. Everything will be okay.”
