Page 42 of Fire on the Moon

“Use your tee shirt to hold the knob,” he said, hearing the weakness in his voice.

“What about the other flowerpot?”

“Did it shatter after it hit the glass?”

“Yes.”

“Leave it.”

Francesca gave him a sharp look. “You’re going into shock. You need to lie down.”

“Yeah,” he admitted

She put her arm around him, holding him close, and it was tempting to lean too much of his weight on her. Once outside, they crossed the yard and headed down the sidewalk, hip to hip, two lovers out late, perhaps coming home from a party.

“Anybody looking at us?” he asked.

She surveyed their surroundings as they walked back to their rental. “Not unless they’re hiding behind the window curtains.”

That was a possibility, of course. He said only, “Okay. Good.”

They kept heading toward the car, and he wished he hadn’t parked so far away. He had been holding himself together with spit and packing tape, but the tape was beginning to shred. He gritted his teeth, hoping he was going to make it out of the neighborhood under his own power. When they finally reached the Chevy, he unlocked the passenger door and collapsed into the seat, struggling to keep himself from revealing how little reserve he had left.

She gave him a long look. “I guess I’m going to drive.”

###

Francesca closed Zane’s door, walked around the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. When she saw he hadn’t hooked his seat belt, she reached across him, pulled out a length of shoulder strap and struggled with the metal catch, cursing silently when she couldn’t quite snap it into place.

After she finally hooked it, she took care of her own belt and started the engine.

“Turn off the recorder on the phone,” he whispered.

“Oh, right.”

She closed the app. She had to get out of the neighborhood, but she wished she had a better idea of the way home.

She kept expecting to see police cars coming in the other direction, speeding toward Tuckerman’s house. But they were the only ones moving through the early morning hours as she headed toward the highway.

When she cleared the neighborhood, she wondered what she was going to do next. Zane had been driving, and she hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to the route. She wasn’t even sure if she could get back to the last place they’d been—the bar.

She could feel the burner phone in her pocket. Probably it didn’t have a navigational app. But she knew the marina was on a river off the Gulf. What was it called? Cypress Grove? No Cypress Creek. Maybe she could look up the address in a phone book, for all the good that was going to do her.

As she drove slowly west, she kept sliding glances at Zane. He had cranked back his seat and was lying with his eyes closed. Maybe if she kept going toward the coast, she could figure out where to find the marina, but that would be wasting time when she should be seeing how bad his wound was and tending to him.

It made her stomach knot to think about bothering him when he needed to sleep, but she knew she wasn’t going to get home without some help.

Angry with herself for being a total screwup, she asked softly, “Are you awake?”

He stirred in his seat and opened his eyes, looking disoriented, but he answered, “Yes.”

She dragged in a breath and let it out before admitting, “We went to the bar first. I don’t know how to get back to the marina.”

“Can you get to Route 41?” he asked in a slurred voice.

“I’m not sure.”

“Give me a minute.” He winced as he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his personal phone, not the burner. As she drove, he got his nav app and turned it on. It was already programed for the marina. After setting the phone in the cup holder near the dashboard, he collapsed into the seat.

---