Free London Escape by Cacey Hopper

me. But for some inexplicable reason I feel as though I can trust him. After all, my spidey sense remains silent and that is generally a good sign.
    I follow him out of the restaurant. It’s nearly dusk out, but the sidewalks are still crowded with pedestrians and the roads full of honking cars. This eases my nerves a bit more, there is no way anyone could hurt me in front of all these witnesses. Besides, my new friend isn’t exactly young either. If it comes down to it I can just make a run for it.
     He takes off at a fairly fast clip down the sidewalk and I have to hurry to catch up. Minutes later we’re back at the impound lot just as the sun dips below the horizon. In the dull glow of the streetlamps I can see the blinds are now closed in the little building where I had spoken to the woman, and the front gate is now padlocked shut with a very sturdy-looking chain.
    “It looks like they’re closed for the night,” I say, trying not to sound as dejected as I feel. Maybe Peter will agree to come back with me in the morning and speak to the woman for me.
    “Pity,” he murmurs and I see him stroking his chin again. “Well,” he says brightly, “I find that sometimes when I’m confronted with a problem directly it’s sometimes better to go around it rather than face it head on, don’t you think?”
     Before I can answer he’s off, hustling quickly around the side of the fenced lot. I follow him again and he comes to a stop around the far back corner. We’re now in an alleyway well out of sight of the road or pedestrians. 
    “Or in this case,” Peter says, looking up at the fence, “it might suit to go over the problem.”
    He’s still staring up at the fence, which is about eight feet high, when he suddenly turns to me and holds out his hands, fingers interlaced.
    “You can’t be serious,” I say when I realize what he intends.
    “Oh, I’m perfectly serious. You do want to get your items back, don’t you?” he asks, crouching a little lower.
    I gulp a quick breath. Climbing fences is definitely out of the question when you have a crippling fear of heights. My mind is racing with a thousand questions I want to ask him, about who he is and why he’s so willing to help me break into an impound lot. But now isn’t the time. 
     “Come now, Kit, it’s not as though you’re stealing anything. I’ll keep watch.”
    Apparently he thinks my hesitation is for moral reasons. I bite my lip hard, telling myself how much Jason is going to owe me when this is all over, and put my green Converse into his hands. I place my hands on his shoulders and with a grunt he lifts me. Despite his age, he’s surprisingly strong and gives me a boost that takes me almost completely over the fence. I grab hold, swing my legs over and drop as carefully as I can onto the roof of a car.
    “I’ll be as quick as I can,” I whisper through the fence.
    I can feel myself shaking as I search the lot for the Mini, either from adrenaline or fear. I can’t tell the difference anymore.
    Lucky for me Mini Coopers are easy to spot and I find a black one right away. However, my key doesn’t fit. Two rows down I find another one. This one is a red, late model with a white fender. The key unlocks the door and I take a moment to pump my fist in victory. My burst of happiness fades quickly as I search the inside of the car. Unlike Jason’s apartment, the car is spotless inside. There’s not a single napkin, cup or scrap of paper, and certainly not another clue. I look again, checking under the floor mats, in the glove box and side pockets of the doors.
     Still nothing.
     As a last ditch effort I pop the trunk. Besides a tire iron and a jack, it’s completely empty too. I lean against the bumper with a sigh. Why would he have led me here for nothing? Did I get the clue wrong? Is there something else these keys unlocked that I could have missed? I had to have missed something, I decide quickly.
    As I turn back to close the trunk a