Free A Girl Undone by Catherine Linka Page B

taking any chances.
    Some dogs cowered at the mens’ feet, while others leaped on the chairs and table and snapped at them. The officers moved carefully, trying not to get too close. I picked up Nestor and hugged him to my chest. He was trembling even worse than I was.
    Two officers began to search the cabinets, the oven, and the drawer under the bench seat, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they frisked us, too. “Ma’am,” one said to Selena, his hand on the gun safe. “Would you please open this?” I listened to him call in the serial numbers on the guns, hoping none would link us back to Maggie or Salvation.
    The sheriff took Selena into the tiny bedroom, saying, “Where are you headed today?” I inched toward the flimsy door. What was the purpose of our trip? he asked. How was she related to the people with her? We were stylists at her salon, Selena told him.
    Sweat trickled down my side. Steady, I kept telling myself. Breathe. Act like you have nothing to hide.
    Then I saw the U.S. Marshal checking me out against a flyer he was holding. The top was folded over, but I could read it upside down.
    “ WANTED BY THE FBI . Suspects in the Salvation Shootout. Aveline Reveare and Luke Stanton.”
    There was a black silhouette of a man’s head under Luke’s name, but there were two photos below mine. The blurry, bleached-out one must have come from the video broadcast, while the profile of me with my long, brown hair held back by a Hawkins-approved headband was from the People shoot.
    The marshal’s eyes met mine then traveled to my hair.
    I’m not her. I’m not her.
    “Could you please step outside, miss?”
    My heart stopped. “Sure, Officer.”
    I picked up Nestor and cradled him in my arms. The marshal followed me out of the RV, our shoes hammering the metal stairs. The door closed, barely muffling the dogs frenzied barking. Outside, four officers made a wall between me and the road.
    This is it. This is the end.
    “Could I please see your ID?” he said.
    Shit. I had no ID. Nothing but a fake Canadian passport zipped into my jacket.
    “Miss, your ID?” He looked from me to the wanted poster, and I saw myself handcuffed and shackled in the back of a squad car. Unless they shot me right here. Nestor yelped and clawed at my arm, and I realized I was crushing him. I had to say something.
    Don’t just stand there. Say something!
    “I think it’s inside somewhere—in my coat or backpack or something.”
    “I need you to retrieve it.”
    My throat closed until I could hardly breathe. “Yeah. Right now? I mean, it’s kind of crowded in there.”
    “Yes, now.”
    I glanced back at Luke, but he was splayed out on his stomach, reaching under a car with Officer Barton crouched beside him. If I didn’t play this right, he and Selena would be on their way to prison.
    The men near me snapped to attention, and I saw a tall officer approach. “What the hell’s going on in there?” He wrenched open the RV door, and the men inside stopped what they were doing. He looked at ATF and FBI. “Anything?”
    “Three handguns,” ATF answered. “All locked and legally registered. No sign of explosives.”
    “You done here?”
    “Yessir.”
    “Go check out the freezer truck five vehicles down.”
    The officer looked from me to the flyer the marshal was holding. “That’s not her.”
    I got very still. The marshal didn’t answer, but the way his mouth hardened told me he didn’t like the other officer telling him what to do.
    The tall officer walked away and the marshal’s eyes followed him. He folded the flyer and put it back in his pocket. “I won’t need your identification.”
    Okay. Okay. I’m okay, I thought, as he walked off. I thanked Selena silently for making me blond and for the bright pink lipstick she had insisted I wear.
    Luke was still trying to retrieve the dogs. Three FBI agents stood between us, sizing up the cars and trucks they hadn’t yet searched. Scratchy chatter on their