Shadows of Sherwood (21 page)

398.26 ML

“What happened?” Key asked. “Who's the old lady?”

“Eveline,” Robyn said, leading him down the hallway. “All I know is, it was important to talk to her.” The encounter had left her feeling full, even though their conversation had only added more questions to the ones Robyn already had.

Key's hands were empty. “Where are the apples?” Robyn asked.

“I gave them away,” he answered. Adding thoughtfully, “I think you're onto something with that idea.”

As they entered the storeroom, Robyn informed Key, “Eveline told me we can take anything that we need from here.”

“Um,” Key said, when they saw the room. “Wow. Anything?”

They were surrounded by shoe boxes. Columns of them, stacked on shelves stretching six or eight feet high. A couple of quick glances showed that the boxes actually did contain shoes. Behind that were crates piled with tubes of hair gel, boxes of hair color, and massive bottles of conditioner. Hair products galore, ordered by the dozens. The room clearly held the overflow supplies from both the braiding salon and the neighboring shoe store.

Robyn stared at the inventory with her hands on her hips. “What are we supposed to do with a thousand stilettos and a vat of industrial-strength detangler?”

“Build a torture chamber?” Key suggested. His voice made it sound like he was already standing in one.

Robyn laughed. “Let's call that plan B.”

“There's no lock on this door,” Robyn said. “I think that means we can come back anytime.” She picked up a copy of the shoe catalog.

“We don't need this,” Key mumbled. “The image is seared on my eyeballs.” But he took it anyway, stuffing it into his back pocket.

Robyn unfolded the scrap of paper from Eveline and showed the message to Key:

398.26 ML

“That's a call number,” Key said. “For a book in the library.”

The sun sank lower in the sky. In the distance, the towers of Nottingham Cathedral turned to shadows against the red-gold-purple skyline. Robyn and Key rushed to meet Laurel back at the tree house before true dark. The library would have to wait until tomorrow—feeling their way through the night woods would be hard enough, let alone finding the carved arrows.

Laurel was already waiting when they arrived. The rice was a tad crunchy, perhaps, but it did the trick. They shared a can of beans along with it, dividing the food into bowls Key had woven out of strips of thick green leaf. Under the circumstances they all were grateful for a half-warm meal.

As she did the previous night, Laurel snuggled close to Robyn under the thin blanket they shared and dozed off immediately. Robyn wondered at the small girl's willingness to trust so instantly. She rested her cheek on stacked hands and tried to close her eyes.

Key sat gazing through the plastic ceiling at the moon. Robyn wanted to ask him why he would bother to look at the moon if he wasn't able to read anything from it. But the words never made it to her lips, as she slipped off to sleep.

At first light, the trio headed down to the library. Passing the wall of wanted posters in the entryway, Robyn was reminded of her recent afternoon in jail. Once again she
felt grateful that the guards hadn't processed her; otherwise, she'd have ended up fully identifiable in the system. Laurel, too, glanced nervously at the display. Key didn't even give it a glance; he just proceeded through the vestibule and held open the door. Robyn and Laurel stepped aside for a frazzled-looking mother with a squirming toddler in one arm and a bag of books on the other exiting the library. The kid shrieked and wiggled, as if trying to escape over his mother's shoulder. His waving arms strangely reminded Robyn of her mother, on the security video, moving in the MP's arms as they lugged her out of the house.

The blinking posters punctuated the memory, sending a surge of energy through Robyn. Mom was still alive somewhere. Apprehended. And Dad—he'd left Robyn instructions and she had done nothing so far but fail him.

Perusing the wall, Robyn's eye fell on the poster for Floyd Bridger. Though she had only seen him briefly, Robyn knew she would never forget his face. Especially with that notable Y-shaped scar on his jaw. There could be no confusion. Beneath his face, they had a list of his crimes: theft, assault, resisting arrest, political agitation, inciting rebellion . . . and murder.

Murder? Wow! If Bridger had really done all these things, he sounded like a seriously bad guy. But he had seemed so kind and thoughtful that day in the square. His eyes, as the MPs dragged him away, had looked anything but scary—they looked scared. Robyn's gut feeling told her to remain on his side.

Where was Bridger now?
Robyn wondered. Clearly, the MPs had not yet caught him. Robyn felt good for a moment, knowing she had helped him get away. She wished there had been something she could do for Nyna Campbell, too.

Gazing elsewhere along the wall, Robyn noticed for the first time the bold display of APPREHENDED suspects. She did a double take: one of the pictures was of the mother and children she'd run into last night! The banner beneath the picture read, APPREHENDED: THEFT OF GOVERNMENT PROPERTY. The date stamp was last night.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Unintended Consequences

“Oh no.” Robyn clamped her hand over her mouth. The MPs must have caught the woman with the stolen items Robyn gave her.

She'd gotten an innocent homeless family arrested! But here in public, Robyn had to control her reaction to the terrible news.

“What?” Key said, responding to her soft gasp.

Nor could she fully explain to Key what was troubling her. Not with people passing through the vestibule behind them. “This happened last night,” she whispered pointedly, nodding toward the screen.

Three innocent people! Because of her recklessness. Robyn felt horrified, ashamed.

Key draped an arm across her shoulder. “Next time, we do it my way,” he said. “They might not even notice anything missing.”

Robyn nodded, trying to swallow the horrible knot in her throat. Key's plan sounded slow and boring, but if it worked,
well, fine. Robyn never wanted a mistake like this to happen again.

She forcibly tore her attention from the APPREHENDED list. She couldn't afford to let guilty feelings affect her behavior. It wouldn't do to appear suspicious in such a public place. Together they moved farther into the library.

Key knew his way among the books. He turned and wound smoothly until they landed in the correct section. Trailing behind him, Laurel touched the spines of the books in a strange, almost sad, way. The small girl drummed the fingers of one hand against her mouth, running the others along the book spines.

“This is where it should be.” Key slid his finger into a gap on the shelf. “But there's nothing here.”

“Oh.” Robyn's shoulders slumped. She struggled to contain her dismay. No book. Another dead end. She was no closer to finding her parents. No closer to understanding Dad's message.

Robyn crouched down on the floor. She leaned against the books and closed her eyes. Her parents had placed all this faith in her, and all she'd done was let them down.

There were real people—a mom—in real trouble now, too, because of her. It made Robyn's stomach ache. Those two boys? Robyn knew what they must be going through. If her own mom was alive, like Eveline thought, she was probably somewhere behind bars. Somewhere horrible.

“I just want to sit here a while,” she told the others. “You guys can go. I'll meet up with you later.”

She expected one of them to say okay, and then to hear footsteps leaving. When she heard nothing, she opened her eyes. Laurel was sitting cross-legged right next to her. Key lay on his side, sprawled across the aisle, looking relaxed but alert. His bent knees rested near her hip, and he had his head propped up on his palm down by her feet. He gazed solemnly at her, completely still.

“It's okay, guys. Just go,” Robyn said. She needed some time alone. Everyone she was trying to help, she ended up letting down. Key and Laurel should get out of the way before they got hurt too.

Laurel leaned in, inches from Robyn's face. “What is wrong?” she said, very seriously.

Robyn laughed. She couldn't help it. The comically-intense, concerned expression on Laurel's face raised her spirits considerably.

Key also cracked a smile. Laurel leaned back, surprised and confused. “What?”

“I—” Robyn began. Laurel obviously cared, and she wasn't going to leave Robyn alone.
I've never had a friend before
, the girl had said. Robyn hadn't, either. At least not the kind of friend with whom you could break out of jail, share a tree-house bed, and plan criminal activity. Exactly the kind of friend Robyn had always wanted.

Robyn decided to speak the thought that had been forming in her mind. It was a little bit crazy, maybe, but it could
solve everything at once. “I want to help the woman from last night. She's in jail because of me.”

“How can we help her?” Key said.

“She's going to disappear,” Laurel added.