No cover here, and with the lights on, no concealment, either. He turned right and fast-walked to the end of the short corridor, staying on the edges of his feet to muffle the sound of his footfalls on the waxed floor. He paused and darted his head around the corner. The long corridor was empty.
It would have been convenient to have some information about where to find Gallagher and her son. But Manus himself didn’t know. He had told her not to stay in her office, which was smart. Beyond that, though, they could be anywhere. Of course, human behavior was far from random, and could be rarely lined up neatly with would be. Here, the primary question was, Where would be most comfortable for a mother to spend the night with her teenaged son? Places with a couch. And common places, rather than someone else’s office, which psychologically would have felt like an intrusion. It would have been easy enough to just call the woman and provide the bona fides Dox had communicated over the secure site. But Manus had told her to leave her and her son’s cellphones in her office. Again, smart, but also again, the security came with complications.
He moved forward, the Glock up, checking signs. BARBARA CLOONEY—ENGLISH. JERRY SACHSEL—MATH. MARIA TRZEPACZ—SOCIAL STUDIES. He tried doors as he moved. They were all locked.
He was a third of the way up the corridor when a door opened on the left twenty feet ahead. A man stepped through. He was wearing a UPS uniform.
chapter
forty-six
EVIE
Evie and Dash got to the top of the stairs just as the door opened below. She grabbed Dash’s shoulder and pulled him behind one of the shelves. It was shadowy, but there was enough light from outside to see. She pressed her fingers to his lips.
Why? he signed.
There’s a man downstairs. We can’t let him hear us.
Maybe they could have made it to the second-floor doors. But it was hard for Dash to move quietly—he had no way of gauging whether he was making noise. And in that silent space, there was no way they would be able to make it through the doors without being heard.
A man stepped in, silhouetted by the corridor light. Peeking through the books, she could make out only his shape, not his features.
“Anyone in here?” he called out, holding the door. “We got a 911 call.”
Yeah, Evie thought. I’ll bet you did.
“Evelyn Gallagher?” the man called out. “Are you in here?”
She looked around wildly. There was a metal cart just behind them, its three shelves loaded with books. The floors were carpeted. But if the wheels squeaked . . .
“Evelyn?” the man said. He let go of the door and it closed behind him with a firm clang, cutting off the light from the corridor. He walked to the checkout desk and glanced behind it.
She wondered why he wasn’t turning on the lights.
Because then you’ll see he’s dressed as a UPS man, not as a cop.
But that wouldn’t last. When he didn’t see them, he’d abandon the act.
She looked at Dash and signed, Don’t move! Then she got on her hands and knees and crawled toward the cart.
“Evelyn?” the man called out again. “The dispatcher said we could find you here. Come on out, ma’am, you’re safe now.”
She reached under the cart and felt for the wheels. They were aligned in the wrong direction. Of course. She rotated them a hundred and eighty degrees. The cart was heavy, and she grimaced with the effort of moving the wheels without making noise.
“It’s really all right, ma’am. You can come out.”
For a second, she felt herself wanting to believe him. The alternative was too terrifying.
No. That is never going to happen to you again. Never.