Page 313 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
My feet slow, this whole situation suddenly feeling very real.
Am I really going to let this enormous man drive me somewhere? What if he isn’t actually a security guard? What if he’s just some random dude with a hidey-hole on the other side of the mountain where he plans to fatten me up like Hansel and Gretel before feeding me to the coyotes?
He motions toward the passenger seat. “This will be faster than walking.”
I take a step backward, then lower my camera into the bag secured across my shoulder and around my hips. “I don’t—” The words catch in my throat, and I swallow against the knot there. With the adrenaline firing in my brain right now, I probablycouldoutrun this guy. But then I see a flash of blue through the trees—a police car making its way down the drive leading to the house. It’s only visible for a moment before it disappears again. Weirdly, this brings me comfort. If I’m not getting away from this guy, I’d at least choose real jail over a hidey-hole.
“Ma’am?” the guy says.
I breathe out a resigned sigh and climb into the utility vehicle beside him.
“Who lives here anyway?” I say as we make our way up the trail. “You could have just asked me to leave, and I would have. This seems like a lot of fuss over a few pictures.”
He eyes me warily. “Very funny,” he says, no trace of actual humor in his voice.
Very funny?
Fear tightens my gut, but I do my best to will it away. All I’ve been accused of is trespassing, something that, even with official charges, only carries a fine.Annnndpossibly thirty days in jail. But probably—hopefully?—it will just be a fine. It’s not like I have an actual criminal record. I’m a model citizen! A distracted scientist who ignored private property signs because she was so focused on finding the ever-elusive white squirrel.
A surge of satisfaction pulses through me.
I actually found him.
I resist the urge to look through my pictures to see if I captured a clear image before the Incredible Hulk scared me half to death. I’m desperate to know, but I don’t want to get into any more trouble than I already am.
The ground levels out before us, then turns to pavement, and Brucey Hulk eases us to a stop directly in front of a Polk County Sheriff’s car, lights still flashing blue in the fading afternoon light.
The house looms in the distance, thoughloomsisn’t really the right word. Itisbig, as big as I thought it was when I was seeing it across the ravine and through the trees, but from this angle, it’s surprisingly pretty, its muted browns and greens and grays blending into the surrounding mountainside like it somehow belongs here.
I’m still bitter I lost access to seventy-five acres of forest land so someone can live here, but even I have to admit—the house is really lovely.
The doors on either side of the cruiser open, and two deputies climb out.
Okay.
I’m also bitter that I’m about to get arrested.
This is really happening.
I’m going to have a mugshot and ink smears on my fingertips. I’m going to be given one phone call on a sketchy payphone while a heavily tattooed man waits behind me, telling me I’d better hurry up or else.
Will I have to wear an orange jumpsuit? Or stripes? Do they still make prisoners wear stripes?
Apparently,wordshave been exchanged during my existential crisis, and now one of the deputies is moving toward me, his mouth set in a grim line.
Next thing I know, my camera bag has been lifted over my shoulders and is in the hands of giant Mark Ruffalo.
And I’m in handcuffs.
Real. Actual. Handcuffs.
“Do you understand your rights?” one of the deputies says from behind me.
“My rights,” I repeat. IknowI should be listening, but Hulky Banner has pulled out my camera and is scrolling through my pictures. If he would just turn to the side a tiny bit, I’d be able to see the digital display on the back. Even just a flash of white would make me happy—
“Ma’am, are you listening?” the deputy repeats.
“Yes, but—I’m sorry, can you just tell me if I managed to get a picture of the squirrel?”
