Merri's eyes squeeze shut, and when she opens them, she looks bleak. “I'm sure they do, but I just can't. I can't risk innocent lives.”
This floors me. “Aren't you innocent?”
She brushes her palm over her cheek, like she's wiping away a tear. “We work with children here. I can't leave. It's just...not safe.” A strand of hair falls from her bun as she lowers her head, looking at the floor with wide, wet eyes.
“I'm sorry,” she says, jutting her chin up so our eyes meet. “Thank you for coming to find me.” Her delicate mouth trembles. “Just tell them that you didn’t.”
13
Cross
AFTER A STUNNED moment, I follow Merri out of the door, but she was in a hurry, and she’s nowhere to be seen. I start wandering the halls. I have no idea when the cartel will come for her—for us—and I don’t think I can risk finding out. I don’t want to force her to go with me, but I’ve got to figure out something.
The first thing I do is return to the waiting area to see if I can find my gun. The young girl from before is helping an older kid sign in on a clip board, and I don’t see either of the guards or the older nun…I forgot her name. I turn around in a circle, and that’s when I see it: the bottom end of the magazine, sticking out from between the leaves of a droopy, flowy plant sitting atop some filing cabinets.
Checking to be sure the girl is still helping the kid, I grab the gun, attach the magazine—just to be on the safe side—and stick it back in the belt of my pants. I hope by the time they notice it’s missing, Merri and I will already be out of here.
After maybe twenty minutes of searching, I pause in the middle of some hallway and let out a deep breath. Meredith is here. Missy King is Meredith Kinsey. I almost can’t believe it. I wonder again how she came to this fate—but does it matter? Am I still trying to ease my guilt? I pick up my pace and keep on the lookout for nuns, for anyone who can direct me to Meredith.
The building is actually four buildings: one that was apparently the old cafeteria, and was all but decimated by the bomb; another in the front that serves as the clinic; another pod serving as the sanctuary; and still another unit with the dorms. I've wandered into the church pod.
The carpeted halls are dark and smell like old Play Doh. I pass a young nun who is busy cleaning; she glances at me, then hurries by. An older nun chases a little girl who laughs ecstatically as she rushes past. I just keep moving, reminding myself that I’m doing nothing wrong. Another hall, a sharp right turn, and I see signs for the sanctuary. I peek inside, hoping to find Merri praying, but it's empty. The painted porcelain crucifix on the far wall glows under two weak lights. It kind of creeps me out. I cross through a hall at the back of the clinic, and I'm pretty sure that this will lead me to the dorms. Where I hope to find Merri.
I'm feeling more and more stressed thinking of where the cartel is right now, when like an apparition, I see a swatch of reddish hair flying down the hallway right in front of me.
I pick up my pace, and I'm about to shout Merri's name when she ducks her head, and I notice the way she's dressed: black sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, plus sneakers. And she's creeping, like she doesn’t want to be seen.
Interesting.
For a half second I hope maybe she's looking for me, but then she goes down another hallway, pushes through a door, and disappears.
By the time I finally get the nerve to follow her into the room, at least a minute has passed. It’s dark when I walk in. Then I notice movement, and I realize a window is open. A window is open, revealing a small swatch of the deep pink sky, and Merri is halfway out of it.
I don't think before acting. I close the distance between us in half a second and wrap my hand around her upper arm. “What are you doing?” I have a sick feeling in my stomach when I ask this. I've built Merri up to be innocent—the opposite of everything I'd thought about Missy King—but what if she's really some kind of drug runner or something?
Then she looks up at me, and I know I'm wrong. Her eyes are huge, her mouth a worried twist. And when she speaks, her voice is barely more than a rasp. “Are you here to take me to Jesus?”
“What? Fuck no! I already told you that I'm not.” I tighten my grip around her soft, warm arm, trying to tug her gently toward me, but her hands cling to the window frame.