Page 93 of The Hitchhikers

CHAPTER 33JENNY

Car doors slammed.

Then a deep male voice. “Bones. How are you doing, old buddy?” Bones’s barking changed into excited whines.

Simon held up two fingers to her and mouthed, “Two.” He slid down into a crouch, pulling her with him. Maybe they should hide behind something. She gestured to the armchair.

“Stay still,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

She nodded, pressed her forehead into the hot skin of his shoulder. Her legs felt wobbly and weak, like all her muscles had turned to liquid. She held the rifle with the butt on the floor so she could use it for balance. Simon had turned his head and was looking toward the door.

Male voices, talking. Getting closer. Heavy steps on the porch. Bones’s collar jingled as he pranced around, still making happy whines. Jenny was shaking now with full body trembles. She clenched her jaw and tried to stiffen her muscles.

Two raps on the door. Jenny flinched, jolting into Simon.

“Ruth? William? It’s Constable Jack and Constable St. Pierre. Donna asked me to stop by and make sure you’re all right.”

Blood whooshed in Jenny’s ears. It was happening. They were going to be caught.

“I don’t see them out in the fields.” This voice was younger, with a French-Canadian accent. “Want me to have a look around in the barn?”

“Let’s give them a minute to get to the door.”

More knocking. Footsteps. She couldn’t tell who was moving.

“See anyone?” The older voice again. Was the younger cop looking in the window? He might be close. Simon was holding his right arm bent, with the handgun against the wall. She had an image of him suddenly turning and standing up to shoot through the glass.

“Can’t make out anything through the curtains.” The boots moved away.

“Donna will have my head if I don’t lay eyes on them myself.”

“Your wife, she’s very worried, eh?”

“We’ve never known Ruth to skip the fair. She wins first place for her pie every year.”

Jenny looked at Simon. Ruth hadn’t mentioned that Donna was married to a cop. She also hadn’t said anything about winning ribbons.

More knocking. Louder now.

“William, it’s Constable Jack.” The cop’s voice was loud, resounding.

Jenny dug her fingernails into her palms.Please, please, just go away.

“Better have a look inside. Something’s not right.” Sounds of the door handle being turned. “Huh. It’s locked. Key’s probably around. Check under the pots.”

No, no, no. They couldn’t come inside.

Simon dove for the armchair, his knees sliding across the wood floor, and gestured for her to follow. They crowded behind the chair, but it wasn’t wide enough for them both. She kept the rifle pointed up and held on to the barrel.

Simon looked around the side of the chair, then back at Jenny. “It’s too tight. I’m going to the other window,” he whispered.

Before she had a chance to register what he had meant, he crawled away. She moved over to his spot and watched him cross in front of the door. Now he was below the opposite window.

She felt exposed behind the chair. Even without Simon it was too small. Did she have time to hide behind the couch? There was a gap between the back of it and the china cabinet. She scooted toward it and had barely made it when she heard the metal slide of a key.

The creak of a door.

Jenny tried to squeeze herself into a tight ball. The rifle was flat on the floor beside her. She couldn’t shoot a cop. She didn’t want to shoot anyone.