“It’s pretty close,” Bishops says. “We can stick to backyards and stay off the streets as much as possible.”
When it’s time to leave, Bishop pauses at Victoria’s back door. “Listen,” he says, looking at Caleb, “when we get there I want you and Ash to stay outside.”
“What? No!” Ash protests.
“What if something goes wrong?” Bishop says. “What if we need your help to get out? Or what if there’s no point in helping us? I want you to be able to get away.”
“Makes sense,” Caleb says.
“How about you give us twenty minutes?” I say.
“If we’re not back by then, you can come looking,” Bishop says. “Or you can take off if things have turned a corner.”
Ash huffs out a breath. “Doesn’t anybody care what I think about this?”
Bishop smiles. “Not if it means putting yourself in more danger than you are already.”
“Just knowing that you’re going to be waiting for us makes me feel better,” I tell her.
“Fine,” Ash grumbles. “God forbid I get in on any of the action.”
The walk to the courthouse goes faster and more smoothly than getting to Victoria’s house. We don’t see another person, although a few times I see curtains twitch in windows as we pass through empty backyards. But no one tries to stop us or comes out to ask what we’re doing, probably thankful we just keep moving.
Luckily the rear of the courthouse backs up to a small stand of trees, no other buildings visible. The last time I stood on the other side of this door, Victoria and I were watching Mark Laird and the other prisoners starting their walk to the fence. The Ivy I was then could never have imagined this day, the twists and turns my life has taken since. I glance over at Bishop, let my eyes linger on his profile. I am thankful all over again for every choice that’s led me here, to him.
He must feel my eyes on him because he turns his head, gives me a quick smile. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll be here,” Caleb says. He and Ash are on the edge of the trees, bodies tense and eyes watchful.
Ash grabs my hand as I start for the door. “Be safe,” she whispers. “Come back.”
I squeeze her hand. “We will.”
I have a split-second thought that Victoria will have changed her mind and the door won’t be unlocked, but when I give the handle a yank the door swings open, and Bishop and I slip inside. At first I’m disoriented because the lights are off, and as the door shuts behind us we are shrouded in shadows. But it only takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.
“They must be saving electricity,” Bishop whispers.
“Or something’s wrong with the power grid,” I say. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s something my father tried to sabotage.
“You know your way around here better than I do,” Bishop says. “I’ll follow your lead.”
We slide to the end of the short hallway and pause, listening. There’s no sound at all, which only makes my nerves worse. I poke my head around the corner. The hallway that ends at the cells is empty as well.
“It’s clear,” I whisper.
We round the corner and walk fast but silent down the hall. The door that leads to the cells is closed and I reach up, feel along the rim of the doorframe for the cell key. It’s not there. My fingers sweep frantically across the edge of the wood, my heart throbbing harder with each passing second. “There’s no key,” I whisper.
“Here,” Bishop says, “let me.” His hand brushes along the wood, and when he’s almost to the end of the doorframe a silver key slides into view, falling to the floor before I can catch it. The sound is as loud as a gunshot to my ears, and I drop down toward the floor, frantic to have the key in my hand.
“Someone’s coming,” Bishop says, just above a whisper. My head jerks up, and I hear the sound of footsteps approaching from behind the door to the cells. Bishop grabs my hand and yanks me down the hall, pulls me into the first open doorway and smashes us both up against the wall. There’s no time to shut the door, the footsteps already out into the hall we just vacated. I push my mouth against Bishop’s shoulder, try to muffle the sound of my own ragged breathing. Bishop’s hand comes up and curls around the back of my neck, steadying me.
I close my eyes as the footsteps pass by our hiding place. If whoever it is glances behind him, looks into this room, then it’s all over. But the slap of his shoes against the tile doesn’t slow. I blow out an unsteady exhale as the footsteps fade. I can feel Bishop’s heart pounding even through both our coats, and the hand I have clenched around his wrist is trembling.
“I think I may have just had a heart attack,” Bishop whispers, and I smother a laugh into his neck. It’s nervous laughter, but it still feels good to release it. Almost as good as having Bishop pressed up against me. We’ve barely had time to talk, much less touch, the last few days. “You okay?” he asks, pushing away from me slowly. “Still have the key?”
I hold up my clenched fist. I can feel the key pulsing against my palm. This time we don’t hesitate, just slip out into the hallway, open the door to the cells and keep moving. As Victoria promised, Callie is in the first cell; the one I occupied during my time here and separate from the other prisoners. Unlike me, she isn’t curled up on the cot. She is sitting on the floor, back against the cinder-block wall, and even with her head bent and eyes closed, she looks determined. She hasn’t given up. A wave of anger washes over me at the sight of her, but I don’t have time for it now. Emotion will have to come later, once we’re all safe.