Tim had all the evidence he needed. With ten strides he could vanish past the cypresses and be gone.
Instead he streaked toward his cottage, head lowered to cut the rain. He closed the front door silently behind him, leaned the broom handle against it, and eased down the hall.
Leah shot up in bed when he entered. "What? What's wrong?"
"We have to go. Now."
She scrambled into a sweatshirt. Tim kept watch at the window but took in only darkness and a blurry stretch of driving rain. A flash of lightning illuminated the empty trailhead.
"Which shoes should I…?" She shook off the question and pulled on her sneakers.
Tim slid the window open and swung one leg out. Leah faced him at the sill, her teeth clicking. "I'm scared."
"Good."
The broomstick clattered.
She bit down on her lip and followed him out. They ran for the woods downslope, stumbling and falling on the way. Shouts from Cottage Circle urged them onward. They reached firmer ground beneath the trees, but still Leah couldn't keep up.
Twinning howls split the air.
The plastic bags around Tim's shoes had grown tattered, but they were better than nothing. He swept Leah up in his arms and ran with her for about twenty yards to disrupt her scent trail, but the terrain was rough and they made poor time.
Leah's words were muffled against his neck. "I can run. I can do it."
He set her down. They tripped over rocks, mud caking their shoes. They crested a rise and saw the engorged creek sweeping past below. Tim turned, trying to sight flashlight beams, but there was just streaking rain, rumbling thunder, the ever-closer barks of the dogs leading the party onward.
"We have to wade upriver to lose the dogs."
Leah regarded the angry caps, the rock-dashed currents. "It'll sweep me away."
"Stay near the bank."
He took her hand, and they skidded down the embankment. Icy water claimed their legs to the calves, and they slogged upstream, ducking fallen trees. A howl broke through the sounds of sloshing, maybe a half mile back.
A sudden wash swept Leah off her feet. Tim went down on a knee but kept her slippery hand. Water battered his chest. He yanked her toward a calmer patch and drew her near; she locked her legs and arms around him. She was quivering violently, her cheek as cold as porcelain against his neck.
He stumbled forward, bearing her weight. A rock turned underfoot, and he fell, shoved himself up with an arm, kept going. Her sweatshirt rode up beneath his grasp; he regripped and was shocked at the rigor mortis-ed feel of her flesh.
The erratic splashing behind them grew steadily louder. He paused, panting, bracing one leg against a boulder.
Leah's head rolled back. Her lips were faded blue, her breath cold against his face. Her voice was little more than a whisper. "I don't even know your name."
"Tim."
A faint smile. "Tim."
Waist-high water swept through them. Her frail frame clenched around him. He felt the knot of her wrist-clamped hands at the back of his neck. Strands of hair lay stiffly on the bleached skin of her face; beads of water dotted her cheeks.
"It's so far." She blinked weakly. "It's okay. You go."
Her chilled forehead found the hollow of his eye. Her lips brushed his cheek, the edge of his mouth. He held her, inhaling her. A few shouts, just around the bend, matched by a chorus of barks.
He waded to shore and set her on her feet. Her knees buckled, but she stayed upright. They could hear distinct footsteps now, the scrabbling of paws across stone.
She stared at him without comprehension, arms clamped over her torso, hands clutching the balls of her shoulders.
Three shadowy figures emerged from the downpour, the Protectors looming on either side of TD. Skate had leashed the dogs; they bobbed in the water, straining like hooked fish. The men shouted and closed on them.
Tim lowered one shoulder, his face twisting with rage. "Stop chasing me!"
He backhanded her so hard she left her feet, her rain-heavy hair whipping across her face. She twisted and hit mud. Tim broke for the creek, and Randall slammed into him and spun him roughly, hands working the frisk.
Randall snapped Tim's head forward in a full nelson; Skate pressed a knife to his belly.
Disoriented, Leah fought herself up to her elbows. TD leaned over her. She began to cry, and Tim was certain she was going to reveal everything.
Leah lay skinny and wet in the mud, her tangled hair draped across a swelling cheek. She choked out the words. "I w-woke up when I heard him close the window behind him. I ran after him. He's my Gro-Par. I didn't want to get in trouble."
Tim felt a rush of affection for her. Afraid of what his face might show, he turned his head and spit.
TD shushed her, stroking her hair. "No, no, no. You did brilliantly. We just found out he's a fraud."
"A fraud?"
"Don't worry. We'll move you back in with Janie. She'll take care of you, my sweet." TD kissed her head and stood. "You laid a hand on one of my Lilies." He seemed amused, almost pleased. "Who are you?"
Tim glared at him. Skate ripped the plastic bags from his feet and threw them to the wind.
TD pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Leah. Her teeth chattered fiercely.
"So I won't get p-punished?"
"No." TD turned his enigmatic grin toward Tim. "Let's save that for our friend Tom."
A lot had changed in the five or so hours since Tim had last been in DevRoom A, none of it for the better. Skate overflowed the folding chair beside Tim, stinking of canine, flicking the dirt from beneath his nails with the tip of his hunting knife. Randall stood behind Tim, arms crossed, Mr. Clean gone sour. One elbow resting on the card table, TD leaned back in his armchair, the picture of leisure.
"Let me guess," Tim said. "You want me to pick a card."
TD offered a smile. The rain had cut the poofiness from his hair; he looked even slighter than usual, a wet rat.
"The license plates on your Hummer are registered to Tom Altman. Nice touch. But you see, we're more thorough than that. So I sent my investigator down to the Radisson to peek through the windshield and run the VIN number. It seems the vehicle traces to a Theodore Caverez of La Jolla. Theodore was indicted on drug charges two months ago, his vehicle seized by the federal government. And I can't believe our friend Tom Altman bought his Hummer at a police auction – doesn't match his carefully constructed profile, does it?"
Tim tried not to shiver, not wanting to broadcast weakness.
"You came here for a purpose, Tom."
"Doesn't everyone, Teacher?"
"A seditious purpose." His grin growing strained, TD tugged at a freckled ear, his first sign of impatience. "Do you think you're the first virus to try to infect our organization? You're all after something, someone. I may have been fooled by your facade, but I know what you run on underneath. I can read you – I always could. You were heading back to home base. Clearly you got whatever it was you were looking for. What was it?"
"Fulfillment."
TD leaned forward, training his eyes on Tim's. "You think you've got something on me."
"I'm just a guy who decided to Get with The Program."
TD's smile showed off the muscles of his cheeks, his neck. He nodded at Randall, who stepped back and opened the door. Skate remained immersed in his grooming.
Tim regarded the open door skeptically. "That's it. I can just walk out of here?"
"Of course. What do you take us for? Criminals?"
Tim rose and moved sideways to the door, keeping all three men in his field of vision.